Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Felix was fucked. Like seriously screwed.

It was supposed to be a quick job, in and out of the mansion before anyone would find out he had been there. In fact, this was supposed to be one of his easier jobs. All he had to do was grab a few files from the owner's desk, and if he slipped a few shiny objects into his pockets in the process, well, that was for him to know. 

He had been preparing for this for almost a week beforehand, reviewing the layout of the home, entrances, security measures, and having the foresight to shut off the power so that he wouldn't have to worry about cameras or other security issues. He even waited for the storm outside in order to make everything plausible. What he hadn’t prepared for, though, was the owner to walk in on him climbing out of the window, much less with a gun in hand. He couldn’t make out the other’s features very well in the dark, but the silhouette that was bulging with muscle was enough to tell him a close combat fight (his specialty) was not going to be easy–not to mention the literal gun in the man’s hands.

It was 3 in the morning, for fuck sakes! Most of the families Felix had stolen from before were knocked out by the time he put his plan into action. Fucking insomniacs.

It hadn’t been the first time he had stolen from the high class, entering luxury homes far more often than he would admit to any cop. There was a reason why he was hired for so many jobs, and he knew his reputation superseded him. Maybe a bit cocky, but he’d been in the business for long enough that he knew what he was doing. So as soon as he saw the glint of the metal in the moonlight, he didn’t waste a second dropping from the second-story window. He originally was going to try to climb down the thick vines that engulfed the side of the home, but there was no time for that now. 

The fall wasn’t too high, but in his haste, he landed wrong on his ankle, it twisting painfully underneath him, the rest of his body weight collapsing on top of it. No fucking files should be worth this. Still, they were safely tucked away into his backpack, so at least his injuries weren’t all for nothing.

A sharp cry escaped his lips before he could control it, and he scrambled to get up, stumbling briefly before sprinting towards the high fence that surrounded the mansion. The sound of gunshots cracked behind him, presumably where he had just been lying seconds before. That had been way too close for his liking.

He could hear shouting all around him, security outside now fully alerted of what had just gone down, because that was exactly what Felix needed right now. The fence was made of thin metal, its tips sharpened like skewers. It was also higher than what he had usually climbed, and if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through him, he definitely wouldn’t be able to do jack with his twisted ankle. He immediately threw his backpack over the fence before quickly taking off his jacket and throwing it over top to blunt the spikes. The storm had given him some cover, but it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out where he was, especially with his bright blonde hair screaming look over here! Plus, now he was going to be even more soaked since he had nothing to shield him from the elements. 

Grabbing onto the metal bars that connected the fence, he hauled himself up, his boots slipping from the rain-slick surface. It only took him a couple more seconds than usual to get on top, and thank god for that, because if the sound of shouts coming closer were anything to go off of, he reckoned they found where he was.

More gunshots went off, one narrowly missing its target and grazing across his temple. The sudden impact made him lose his balance from where he was perched on top of the fence, almost falling completely before grabbing onto the edges and sliding himself down, snatching his belongings and quickly making a run for it. He really needed to start reading more into the people he steals from, because he was seriously unprepared for this. 

He hated rich neighborhoods like these. Everything’s so damn confusing, easy to get lost in because it all looked the fucking same. He sprinted down the street, head starting to hurt from how fast he whipped it back and forth.

The security hadn’t given up at the gates, still hot on his tail. Most of them were on foot like he was, but he could hear the distinct rumbling of cars being started in the driveway. He didn’t stop until he found the black sedan parked alongside the road, yanking the door open way too hard and practically threw into the passenger seat, screaming that they needed to Fucking go. 

“What the hell just happened?!” the driver screamed, slamming on the gas pedal as the tires screeched against the pavement. Shots were still coming, one of them piercing through the windshield. Both of them ducked low, trying to avoid the shards of glass and bullets flying everywhere.

“The owners an insomniac, shit, I don’t know! Just get us the fuck out of here already!” Felix yelled, ducking under the dashboard.

“Fucking stupid, I told you this was a bad idea!” he spat, swerving onto the main road. “We don’t need the money, Felix! You and I both know we are more than well off!”

“Yah, watch your language!”

“You are seriously not scolding me for cursing right now-”

“Scream at me all you want when we get back, I don't care! Just focus on the damn road already!”

They weaved through alleyways, taking random roads to do their best in losing them, but the chase was relentless. Felix hated violence, ironic considering his line of work, but he’d much rather slip away unnoticed than face a head-on encounter. He was good at close hand-to-hand combat, taking taekwondo so that he wouldn’t immediately die whilst on the job, but no one wanted to fight fair anymore. He swears, everyone’s always pulling a gun at a knife fight nowadays. He didn’t feel like he had much of a choice at the moment, though. Rolling down the side window, Felix pulled his own pistol out of the dashboard, checking that it was still loaded before slipping his upper body out into the rain. He might’ve been stupid for not carrying it while on the job, but he didn’t want it to ever come down to that. He’d rather take his chances than a life, not to mention he really sucked with guns. It’d be more of a hassle to carry it, in his opinion. 

He had no intention of killing anyone tonight, but they weren’t going to get away if he didn’t slow them down. He aimed his gun at the front tire, taking a shot before ducking back in immediately. It was shaky and definitely didn’t hit. The truck didn’t let up; instead, it returned fire, shooting at him instead of the car. No fair. With a sharp inhale, he stuck himself out the window again, this time shooting nonstop until both front tires burst with loud pops. The truck swerved violently, metal screeching across the asphalt as they crashed-- thankfully not too hard-- into a dumpster down the alley. 

Felix slumped back into the seat with a large sigh of relief escaping his lips. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain in his ankle was becoming more unbearable by the second, a headache blooming behind his eye from the close proximity of the gunshots. His temple was still bleeding profusely from the graze, soaking into his hair and running down the side of his face. He was also drenched from head to toe with rain and sweat. He doesn’t need to look in the rearview mirror to know he looks like shit.

Taking a quick look at his ankle, he decided it wasn’t that bad. He could probably ice it for a couple of hours when he got home and would be fine. He had plenty of injuries from the jobs he’d taken, his body lined with scars and faded bruises. He even had a few bullet wound scars, and it was always a cool story to share at parties. Of course, a condensed version, but he got the same reactions nonetheless.

He took the painkillers out from the cupholder, tossing them back and chasing them with the lukewarm energy drink that sat beside it. He heard gross muttered beside him, and Felix turned to look at the other, a shaky smirk taking over his features.

“What was that, Innie?”

“I said you’re gross.” Jeongin scowled, looking back at him and snatching the can out of his hands, “Could’ve at least asked before you got your germs everywhere.”

“I could be bleeding out for all you know, and this is how you treat me? How hurtful,” Felix pouted, clutching a hand to his chest in mock defense.

Jeongin glanced over, momentarily alarmed, then sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re fine, you know head wounds bleed more. Stop being dramatic.”

“No respect for your hyung,” Felix tsked, reaching out to grab his bag from underneath the dashboard. “One of these days I might really be, and you’ll be too busy breaking my heart to notice.”

“Whatever,” Jeongin sighed, “did you at least get what you came for? Or was that all for nothing?”

“Yep,” Felix replied, popping the P while waving the bag triumphantly, “gonna make bank tomorrow, Innie.”

“Do you even know what you just stole? Or, better yet, who you stole from?”

“Nope. You know I don’t ask questions. Kinda wish I did, though.” Felix said with a bitter laugh, “The guy's silhouette looked like he could snap me in half, but I couldn’t see his face since it was pitch black.”

“Which you’re welcome for, by the way.” Jeongin pointed out.

“Aww, I am,” Felix coos, ruffling the younger's hair. Jeongin recoiled with a grimace and swatted his hand away. “So grateful for my little hacker.”

Jeongin had been studying coding and IT since last year, starting his sophomore year of university, and it came in handy when they pulled off heists like this. Of course, college didn’t cover how to hack people’s home security; but it made learning how to a hell of a lot easier.

With someone helping from the sidelines, Felix didn’t have to stress as much about making plans. Not that he’d ever admit it to Jeongin’s face –god forbid the kid got a complex– but Felix was pretty sure he’d be dead by now if it weren’t for him. 

But Felix did all of this for them. They would have never been able to live as comfortably as they did now if it weren’t for the jobs Felix would take. They’d still be stuck in that group home, counting down the days until Felix turned 19 so that they could leave. It was rough living in the Korean foster care system, but they had both known each other since they were young and made a promise to each other: that no matter what, they would leave together. 

Because of their “upbringing,” Felix had always been good at slipping things when nobody would notice, and it kept them floating for a bit. Sometimes, he’d take things with no real value just to make his maknae smile, small distractions from the uglier part of their lives. But Jeongin wasn’t stupid. He knew where the bruises would come from, he knew why Felix would bump into strangers so often. Felix knew he knew too.

But Jeongin pretended for his sake, and thank god, because he tried his damned hardest to sheild that part of their lives from him. Felix wasn’t much older than Jeongin, only by a year, but he did everything he could to make sure Jeongin wouldn’t have to face the same things he had. 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

When he inevitably got caught–because of course he would with his luck–it was by someone who happened to be pretty high up in one of the many mafias that ran rampant in Seoul City.

Fucking perfect.

But how was he supposed to know? He was only sixteen when it had happened, nowhere near the under-city with his more than lacking thievery skills, and the man couldn’t have been older than thirty. When felix thinks about mafia members, he thinks of old wrinkled men with scars across the eye and slick black hair, not some guy who looked like a fucking k-pop idol.

It was at a subway station, the car jam-packed with people from rush hour trying to get home. The man’s looks were a bit jarring, the fitted suit jacket and leather pants along with various accessories clashed harshly with his neon green hair, but he looked rich–the sparkling watch on his wrist only further proving his point–and that’s what mattered to Felix.

It was a sharp contrast to his own outfit; the once-black, ripped jeans, dulled from too many washes, sagged on his malnourished figure. He wore a loose black hoodie to match, the hood hiding his face from view. He guessed his hair wasn’t much better than the man’s, his bleached blonde locks that fell loosely around his shoulders also a stark difference to the sea of black hair from everyone else. It probably wasn’t smart to steal with such a distinct appearance compared to others, but it could also work to his advantage, because who’d be dumb enough to do that, right?

When he looked at the outfit compared to his own, the only thing he felt was pure envy. The man clearly had enough money to splurge on something as useless as a luxury watch, while Felix could only afford enough for the essentials.

It’s not fair. That was all it took to convince him to pocket said watch. In his mind, it felt like he was putting them on equal footing. The suit might still make him look rich, but not as much as that watch did. It was quite a remarkable piece, the lights above making it glint even with it being shielded from the sleeve of the man's blazer. He didn’t know any expensive brands, but he didn’t need the details to know he was going to get a hefty payout from the pawn shop he frequented. Just the thought of the prize money was enough to make his mouth water. 

They both stood in the aisle with a hand wrapped around the bars above them, and were stuck against each other– scratch that, he was more or less smothered into the man by how crowded it was. All it took was waiting for the others around him to shove him even closer so that it’d be reasonable if he bumped into him, discreetly unhooking the watch draped across his wrist. He mumbled a sorry as he slipped it into his hoodie pocket, hiding his growing smile with a ducked head before making his way to the screen doors so that when they opened, he’d have a better chance of escaping. 

He thought he was so slick, too, barely able to contain the giddiness from scoring something like that as he stepped out onto the platform. It might’ve been his best loot yet. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but he didn’t care, opting to figure it out when the time came.

In the midst of all the excitement, he failed to notice when the same man had walked out of the car behind him until a hand slipped its way on the back of his neck, grabbing onto it rather harshly. Felix paled as the man continued to drag the two of them through the crowd, the broad smile on his face only deepening his dread. If any onlooker were to glance at them, they might’ve thought they knew each other– maybe having a good time, at that. In reality, Felix was seriously considering throwing himself onto the train tracks.

“I’m assuming you don’t know who I am, right?” the man smirked, and when Felix frantically shook his head no, he only chuckled before his grip tightened slightly. 

“No? Allow me to enlighten you then,”

He leaned in closer, his tone almost mocking as he said, “I’m known as G.D. by most, ring any bells?”

Felix blinked up at him, confusion written clearly across his face, and he only laughed louder.

He kept walking, steering Felix effortlessly down the stairs into a quieter section of the station. The crowd thinned, voices and train announcements fading behind them. His brain was scrambling to catch up. G.D.? That was only supposed to be a name people whispered, some kind of myth. He wasn’t real, or at least not someone you met in person unless you were already dead.

He swallowed hard, pulse pounding in his ears. “I–I didn’t know..” he managed to say, voice hoarse.

“Ooh, got a deep voice there.” G.D. cooed.

“But obviously,” he continued, rolling his eyes. “If you did, you wouldn’t have touched my wrist. Pretty ballsy for someone so clueless.”

Felix’s stomach turned. “Look, I’ll give it back. I w-wasn’t even gonna pawn it, I just–”

G.D. stopped suddenly, turning to face him. He didn’t let go of Felix’s neck, just held him there like he was pinning down a cat by the scruff. “You think I care about the damn watch?”

Felix didn’t answer. What was he supposed to say to that? Almost everyone he had gotten caught from before were livid, some giving him a few bruises in the process. He’s never had someone say they didn’t care. It was even more confusing because apparently, this man was the leader of one of the biggest– no, the biggest mafia in Seoul to date. Shouldn’t he be begging for his life by now?

“I’ve had people killed for less than what you just did.” G.D. tilted his head, smile widening impossibly more like Felix’s life was just some fun little game. And maybe it was to him. “But I don’t think I’m gonna do that with you.”

That should’ve made Felix feel better. It didn’t.

“W-what…” he clears his throat, “what are you gonna do then?”

G.D. finally let go, smoothing out the front of his jacket. “That depends. How good are you at staying alive?” He suddenly turned his neck to look behind him, and Felix realized they weren’t alone. “What do you think, T.O.P.? He seems pretty expendable to me.”

He had to hold back the shiver that ran up his spine. Expendable. He was so, so fucked.

A man stepped out from a doorway farther back from where they’re standing, most likely one of the staff rooms. He was tall and had a lean frame, but despite not showing any visible muscle, he was still intimidating. His outfit mirrored G.D.’s almost exactly – same blazer paired with leather pants – but where G.D.’s hair was neon green, this man’s was a blinding shade of pink. It was absurd. For supposedly dangerous mafia members, they really did not fit the stereotype. The bright colors almost felt like an insult to the situation, mocking him. 

The man’s face was entirely blank, and his gaze flitted over Felix as if he were mentally tallying all of his weaknesses.  Felix fought the urge to shrink back. If it were possible to make himself smaller than he already was, he would’ve vanished on the spot. He really wanted to leave; he felt like he had just walked into predator territory, and he was the main course.

“What’s your name, kid?” the man, T.O.P., said, giving Felix a sideways glance.

“F-f…” he coughed. It probably wasn’t smart to tell them the truth. It also probably wasn’t to lie. He can’t compromise all the time, though. “Yonbok. Lee Yonbok.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Thinking back on it now, it was probably one of the better turning points in his life. Petty theft could pay good, sure, but after paying off his “debt” to the leaders, he stayed anyway, his profit tripling in size. 

He had a feeling that if he backed out now, though, his boss’ would be less than forgiving. He’d heard what happened to the last guy who tried, a member named Seungri. No one ever said it outright, but the silence around his name said enough, and Felix wasn’t eager to meet the same fate. They had other leaders too, Taeyang and Daesung, but they seemed to be more shy and kept a safe distance from the younger, having a cordial relationship with Felix.

After nearly half a decade of working for them, he learned they weren’t always that scary. They could be if they wanted to, of course, G.D. leaning into a chaotic, unhinged type of approach, while T.O.P. kept all of his emotions hidden behind that insane poker face. Honestly, Felix wasn’t sure which was worse. But once you peeled back those carefully crafted personas, they were actually both complete dorks. 

They wore matching outfits and reenacted old Kdramas together, It felt like a fever dream whenever he was in the same room with them. They could pass off as normal people, and it was odd putting his hyungs with the people he met at that subway. He likes to think of them as separate people, switching on when the time came up.

They also had an unexpected soft spot for him, constantly doting over their “precious maknae.” It still felt weird being the youngest after all these years. He was so used to being the one taking care of others, not the other way around. 

His hyungs still hadn’t met Jeongin, and Felix made sure of it, keeping him far out of their reach. If he ever had to mention him, he always referred to him as I.N., hence the nickname Innie. As they got older, Jeongin had started helping with the heists, and Felix couldn’t have been more grateful. But it was always from the sidelines. No matter how much the younger argued that he was grown now and could handle himself,  Felix would never put his kid brother in that type of danger. He might’ve cared for his bosses, sure, but Jeongin’s safety came first, and they weren’t safe. They still didn’t even know his real name. As far as they were concerned, he was still just Yonbok. 

Even though the jobs he would take on now were a hell of a lot more dangerous than when he was younger, it was still better than when he and Jeongin were kids.

When everyone's stomachs cramped from hunger, Felix always made sure he and Jeongin had something to eat. He tried to get food for the others, too, but Jeongin would always be his priority. At one point, when he’d finally saved enough, he bought them both cheap flip phones so they could stay in contact when one of them got placed with a different family, always meeting back at the group home when it would inevitably not work out. They were flimsy and way too old for the era they were in, but they worked. 

That was when Felix realized Jeongin had a love for technology. He started picking up cracked phones off the street or pulling busted ones out of people’s bags, and Jeongin would fix them like they were fresh out of the box. He’d take them apart, study every piece, and put them back together better than before. That talent quickly turned into another side hustle to bring in money, keeping the prices cheap so they would attract more customers. It was a perfect alternative to him tagging along on theft jobs, so you’d never hear Felix complain. Now that they were older and far richer, they opened a tiny repair shop in one of Seoul’s rougher neighborhoods, using it as a cover-up to launder the money they made from Felix’s heists. 

By day, they were poor tech nerds. By night, thieves. Pretty clever, if you asked him.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

They pulled onto a random street and killed the engine once they were sure no one was tailing them. Taking a glance back at the shattered rear windshield, Felix grimaced. They’re going to have to replace it again. 

It’s such a pain having to clean up the broken shards, not to mention the cost of replacing it so often. People should be more considerate while trying to kill him. Probably need to find a new shop while they’re at it. The last place they’d gone to had to be getting suspicious with how often they showed up with bullet holes and busted glass. Add that to the list. 

Ignoring that for now, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out the files he managed to grab before everything went to shit. The manila folders were bent and the papers inside were crinkled because of the jostling in the bag, but nothing an old dictionary back home couldn’t fix.

The job this time around had paid significantly more than usual, so he was a bit curious to see why. Typically, G.D. sent him after things with clear monetary value– jewels, tech, cash. So a stack of papers instead had piqued his interest since the beginning. He figured taking a peek wouldn’t hurt, considering he always took a quick glance through whatever he’d take from people while on the job, but if he would be, he’d just lie. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Jeongin muttered, eyeing Felix as he thumbed through the documents.

Felix flipped on the overhead light, casting a yellow glow across the pages. “Yeah? Well, satisfaction brought it back.” Felix winked, then let out a low whistle when the blueprints came into focus. 

“Huh… looks like some type of layout for an auction house.” He tilted the folder toward Jeongin. ”You know anything about this, Innie? Also, im gonna need you to shove all of this onto a drive later.”

Jeongin leaned over, squinting at the pages from the driver’s seat. “Not off the top of my head, no, but if it’s the one I think it is, it’s not just any auction house.”

Felix raised an eyebrow, fingers pausing on a floor plan marked Vault Access Restricted. “Go on…”

“There’s a private one in Gangnam that runs under the table. Sells black market stuff to the ultra-rich, like G.D.; in other words, mafia members. They got art, tech, weapons, you name it. It’s practically a fortress.”

Felix snorted, tapping the edge of the folder. “Figures. G.D. really knows how to ease a guy back into work after a break.”

“Break?” Jeongin scoffed. “You got shot at. Twice.”

“Semantics,” Felix said with a grin, that familiar gleam of excitement lighting his eyes. “Besides, it sounds like fun.” 

Jeongin didn’t respond right away, watching the way Felix’s eyes scanned every detail like he was already plotting a way in. “Fucking klepto,” he muttered. Then, quieter: “Just… don’t get too cocky, hyung.”

Felix flashed him a sideways smile. “I never do.” 

“You always do.”

Felix groaned dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back into the passenger seat with a long stretch, arms behind his head. “Come on, it’s not like I'm going to get many chances for something like this. This is a thief’s wet dream, Innie. Im not passing this up, ankle be damned.”  he cracked an eye open to peek at the younger, slugging his shoulder when he noticed his frown. “Besides, don’t you wanna know what it’s like to hack a mafia auction house?”

That did it. Jeongin’s lips twitched, the worry slowly morphing into the same excitement that Felix knew mirrored his own expression.  “Okay… that does sound kind of badass.”

Felix grinned, victorious. “Knew it.” He glanced out the windshield, then back at his kid brother. “Now, c’mon. I think nearly getting murdered is the perfect excuse to celebrate, don’t you?”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Bang chan was pissed. 

He’d never had something happen like this before. Sure, sometimes he had petty thieves try to break in; it came with owning a mansion. He’d dealt with those before, but that was always for cash, and he never kept anything of monetary value at home. 

And when those amateurs showed up, they were disposed of quickly, a bullet between the eyes and a call to get rid of the body. But not this. The thief didn’t just survive, he got away with something. That was genuinely a first for him. Chan had gotten the call not long after power returned to the estate: the target was gone, and his security team needed to be picked up. The car they’d chased him in had crashed; flat tires, courtesy of a few well-placed shots. Thankfully, no one was hurt, only a few scrapes and bruised egos.

Worse yet, someone had hacked into the home’s system and shut everything down. Lights, locks, cameras. That should’ve been the first red flag.

They were only able to save very minimal shots through the camera because of a backup protocol Jisung had installed. All of the emergency power would go straight to the camera’s so that if needed they would have evidence. Except even the backup power had been hit, so they were screwed altogether. 

At first, Chan didn’t think anything important was missing, noticing a few worthless knick-knacks around his office were gone. But then he opened the bottom drawer of his office desk, and his blood ran cold.

The folder was gone. 

The blueprints were gone.

Not just any blueprints, either– the auction house blueprints. Of course, this couldn’t be just a normal break-in; it had to be a full-on heist. How did anyone find out about that? Everything important was gone, along with sensitive files stuffed with buyer information, private schedules, vault codes. Shit that no one outside the very few mafia rings around the city should’ve even known existed. He almost threw up when it clicked. He was so dead.

This was a targeted attack. One of the other mafias was planning to crash the auction, that much was clear. And when it blew up, because it would, he’d be the one holding the matchbook.

And if he figured it out this fast, so would everyone else. Chan dropped into his chair, hands braced against the edge of the desk as the weight of it all settled in.

He was so fucking dead. Hyunjin was going to kill him with his bare hands.

Not long after he had a minor breakdown, the sound of footsteps echoed down the marble hallway. Chan didn’t even bother looking up. He knew that walk by heart, having been around it since they were kids. He’d known Hyunjin since they were in middle school, along with the rest of the members in their syndicate. They weren’t members of the mafia yet, obviously, just heirs by family connections at that point. But when Hyunjin’s father, the leader of STRAY, had been brutally attacked and left in a vegetative state, Hyunjin had taken over as a high schooler, no siblings to take his place. And when he asked Chan and the others to stand with him, none of them hesitated.

Those first couple of years had been hell. No one took them seriously. They were just a bunch of kids, and with STRAY’s leader out of commission, they were a prime target for a bunch of nobodies to try and take his place. But it didn’t take long for people to learn the hard way that they weren’t just riding off of the Hwang family’s reputation; they were there to stay. They had been ruthless, strategic, and impossible to kill. They weren’t given much choice for anything else. People started following them willingly after that, and they quickly rose to the top. Now they sat as the second-largest mafia in South Korea, just a hair behind BANG. Loyalty replaced fear. They had connections, territory, and power. No one messed with them unless they had a death wish. Which is why this situation is so jarring. Who would be that stupid?

He knew almost everyone in his life by the sound of their walk, a survival skill he’d picked up from years of being too aware of his surroundings. Even his body guards foot steps had been accustomed to. That’s how he knew someone else had been in his home, noticing the echo of too deliberate footsteps towards his office. Sometimes, insomnia came in handy. If he hadn’t already been awake, he might not have noticed anything was amiss until morning. He just wished he had noticed sooner; if he had been even a couple seconds faster getting to his office, he would’ve placed a bullet in that fuckers skull, saving himself the scolding he was about to get.

When the footsteps finally came to a stop, the double doors slammed open.

“Where the fuck were your people looking?” Hyunjin’s voice was calm. That was worse than yelling; Yelling meant you still had room to argue, calm meant a decision had already been made.

Chan slowly rose from the chair, clearing his throat. “I was just about to call you.”

He knew his dongsaeng was just stressed and that he wouldn’t actually hurt Chan. Maybe. But that didn’t make him any less terrifying. The soft edges to the boy Chan had grown up with had long since been carved away by age and responsibilities no teenager should’ve carried. Hyunjin still looked like downright ethereal, though, maturity making him look like a damn fallen angel. But there was nothing soft left in his presence anymore.

There would be moment’s when hyunjin would be free enough from his responsibilities to enjoy time with their group, laughing and relaxed. Those days were when chan was his happiest, and he knows the other members feel the same way. But then something would come up, and the kind loving boy they knew would disappear as quick as it came. Chan wishes he could be the leader instead of Hyunjin, he would do anything to help his dongsaengs. But he can’t, so instead he took on the role as the co-leader, but to everyone else he was still second-in-command. He tried to take on all the responsibilities, making Hyunjin more of a public figure, but he can’t shoulder the work load by himself, as much as he hates that. That’s why he tried to take over the auction house, and that obviously backfired.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, stepping fully into the room, shutting the doors behind him with a sharp click. His all-black outfit looked more fitting for a funeral than casual: a tailored jacket, polished boots that caught the light, not a single strand of his long brown locks out of place. He looked more annoyed than furious, which wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

“You were going to call me,” Hyunjin repeated, stepping further into the room. “After someone hacked and broke into your house, stole my files, and nearly blew up our auction. That about right?”

Chan swallowed hard. “It wasn’t just the auction files,” he admitted. “They took other documents, too. I think it was a targeted job.”

“No shit.” Hyunjin let out a slow breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need your theories, Chan. I need a name, a face. Anything actually useful.”

Chan hesitated, lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without a word, he turned back to his desk and tapped a few keys. The mounted wall screen flickered to life with a still frame. It was the only clean shot they’d managed to recover. He was glad jisung had built that protocol, barely working enough for him to secure the corrupted security footage. The image was blurry, grainy from the data loss, but clear enough to make out some basic details.

A slim figure mid-motion, caught in the act of glancing over his shoulder. Black hoodie. Small frame. Light-colored hair spilling loose around his face, messy and soft-looking despite the chaos he’d caused. The shadows made it hard to tell, but he couldn’t have been more than twenty.

Hyunjin stared. Then blinked. “That looks like a fucking teenager.”

Chan let out a low, bitter laugh. “He was. Probably only twenty now. But you, of all people, should know not to underestimate kids. He’s been in and out of the underground for years, mostly in smaller circles from what I’ve gathered. Goes by Yonbok.”

Hyunjin’s expression hardened when the name registered.

Yonbok.

They’ve heard the name before, mostly rumors passed between smugglers and information brokers. A street rat turned myth. It said he was untraceable, untouchable, and lucky in the worst way. There was no information about him past the heists he managed to pull off, and when you looked his name up in the system, he was nowhere to be found. Not even a birth certificate. Maybe he was a foreigner like Chan. And now, apparently, he had been brave enough, or stupid, depending on how you looked at it, to rob one of the most dangerous families in Seoul.

Hyunjin only leaned in further, squinting at the pixels like he could see through the screen before turning back to Chan. “You’re telling me this.. Street thug, managed to hack into your home security system, which I know is secure because I had Jisung develop that myself, and broke into your house unnoticed?”

“Well, when you say it like that..” Chan sighs, leaning back into his desk chair. ”Yes…”

Hyunjin stood upright and smoothed out the creases in his sleeves, his gaze thoughtful for a moment.

“Then find him,” he said finally, no room to debate. “And when you do, because you will, I want him alive.”

Chan frowned. “Alive? After this?”

Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed.

“I want to look him in the eye before I cut off his fingers.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

As soon as Hyunjin left, Chan got to work. It sounded like he was on a tight schedule, so he called in the other members to get this going as smoothly as possible. 

Jisung was the first to arrive. He sauntered in without knocking, sitting himself on top of Chan’s desk as if he owned the place. He had a cigarette behind his ear, a wore a grey turtle neck and simple black slacks, along with a thin zip up. There were dark eyebags under his eyes, and his skin that was once a rich honey now looked sickly pale. He probably hasn’t left his house since the last meeting, and that crushed chan. He needs to do better, he needs to force Jisung out of his cave and he needs to spend time with the rest of the members. But it’s so hard when he was practically running the mafia by himself. It was his choice, of course, but it didn’t change the fact he felt terrible not being there for them. Maybe he’ll invite them over more when he’s working, and they can go out after. Yeah, thats a good idea. He’ll need to do that more.

 The thief’s blurred profile still glowed on the wall screen behind him, flickering faintly from the corrupted feed. Jisung studied it with a furrowed brow as he picked the cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it, the ember flaring orange in the dim light as he took a large inhale of smoke. Another habit Chan should end.

“You think he knew who he was robbing?” Jisung asked around the cigarette, exhaling a slow drag. “Takes a lot of balls to pull a stunt like this. I mean, come on, he got around my system. That thing’s been air-tight for years.”

Jisung was the mafia’s head in technology. He wasn’t sure when it started specifically, but he had been working with his father at some sort of tech repair company as an intern before they were looped into the syndicate, and Chan guessed it was comforting to him. None of them were the same people they had been all those years ago, so having something to remind you of your past life was something vital. Chan himself made music that would never see the light of day, and the 5 other members had something of their own. Hyunjin’s had been art, the man locking himself away for hours in his studio. Chan remembered when they were younger that he had been gunning for art school.

And now Jisung sat at his desk in a too lifeless mansion, theorizing why the thief whose life had an early expiration date messed with them, and the only thing Hyunjin planned on painting any time soon was Yonbok’s blood on the walls.

“Why wouldn’t he know that? How else would he have found out about the blueprints?” Chan scoffed. He opened the window once the smoke started filtering through the air.

Looking outside the window only made him angrier as he thought back to the night before. There were bullet holes covering the lawn where Chan had tried to end the night, or a life, quickly. It was around 7 A.M. now, and sleep was officially off the table. He sat back down on his chair, taking a sip from the mug on his desk, grimacing at the lukewarm bitterness. He hated coffee, but it was that or suffer from how rowdy it would be later when everyone else arrived. Maybe thats why he never invited the kids around often.

Jisung shrugged, taking another drag, “From what I've heard? The guy doesn’t ask questions. Just takes the job, gets it done, and disappears. Probably didn’t even know what he was grabbing, just that the paycheck was fat.” 

He leaned forward, squinting at the photo just like Hyunjin had done. “Purely an adrenaline junkie if you ask me. The man’s breaking into highly secured mansions for the love of the game.” His voice sounded amused, but his face remained blank when he tilted his head. “It doesn’t exactly scream ‘hacker,’ though.”

Then, suddenly, he shoots up, snapping his fingers repeatedly while looking at Chan, “Ooh, wait! Didn’t your guys mention something about a getaway driver?”

Chan’s gaze sharpened. “Yeah. Tires were blown during the chase. Said the kid was halfway out the passenger window when it happened, so he couldn’t have been driving.”

“Damn,” Jisung snickered, “hanging out the side of the window and they still missed? You really gotta upgrade your security, man.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying,” Jisung sang, entirely unfazed. “So now we know he’s got backup, that’s progress. What would you do without me, huh?” 

“Live in peace?” Chan sighed, rubbing at his temples.

“Wrong!” Jisung barked with a buzzer noise. “Without my software, this entire operation would’ve crumbled years ago. I’m the backbone, hyung. You should be more grateful that you have such a genius in your ranks.”

“Your genius got smoked by a kid with sticky fingers and a hoodie.”

“Wow.” Jisung clutched his chest, scandalized. “Discrediting my years of flawless security over one outlier? That’s cold. I’m revoking your tech privileges.”

“Tragic,” Chan deadpanned. “Guess I’ll just hire some random street kid next.”

Jisung scowled, blowing a dramatic puff of smoke. “You're lucky I’m too loyal to quit.”

Chan let out a low chuckle. “Have you heard anything? About a partner, I mean.”

“Nope,” Jisung said, blowing out a puff of smoke. “But let’s be honest, people barely remember I exist. I’m in that server room more than my own bed.”

Chan cracked a grin despite himself. “Fair point.”

The humor faded slowly as their eyes drifted back to the screen. The blurry profile of Yonbok stared back at them, about to become their next problem.

The sound of boots clicking against tile drew their attention toward the doorway.

Minho also stepped in without knocking, a tablet tucked under one arm and a cup of something iced in the other. He was in a suit, for some odd reason, but chan decided not to comment on it. Minho’s expression was unreadable as always, sharp eyes scanning the room, landing on the frozen image still glowing on the wall before flicking to Chan.

“I already saw the photo,” he said before anyone could explain, handing the tablet off to Chan. “Ran it through everything we’ve got. Nothing. Not facial, prints, not even a passing resemblance in the system. He’s either a ghost, or someone’s been scrubbing his trail for a long time.” 

Minho worked as a detective in the police department, which made every time they looked into personal records slightly more legal. It also helped them keep an eye on whatever they were investigating, so they knew when they needed to cover their tracks more. Hyunjin made sure there were no cracks in their operation, chan’ll give him that. 

He took the tablet, frowning as he skimmed through the search results--dozens of blanks and failed matches. Minho wasn’t the type to exaggerate, which made the silence in those files even more infuriating.

“Jisung thinks he’s not working alone,” Chan said, setting the tablet down. “There was a driver. He thinks it may be who hacked my security.”

“Figures,” Minho muttered, crossing the room to lean against the far wall. “I cross-checked the report your guards gave. Tire blowout during pursuit, shooter was in the passenger seat. That means someone else was behind the wheel. Nobody pulls off a hit like that solo, unless they’re suicidal or stupid. He didn’t look like either.”

Jisung grinned. “See? I’m not just a pretty face.”

“You’re barely even that,” Minho muttered, sipping his drink.

“Okay, rude.” jisung pouted before his eyes lit up with mischief, “that’s not what you said last night!”

Minho simply scowled, but he didn’t deny it either.

Chan ignored whatever that was, muttering under his breath that they should get a room while rubbing at his temples. The morning light filtering through the window only made his headache worse. “So we know he’s not working alone, but we’ve got nothing solid on him. We’ve got no record, and no clue how he actually bypassed the system.”

Jisung hopped off the desk and stretched, flicking ash into a tray that hadn’t been emptied since last week. “So, what now? We just throw darts and hope one hits something?”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “You want to waste more time guessing, or do you want to find someone who might actually know who Yonbok runs with?”

“Like who?” Chan asked.

Minho smirked. Chan already knew he wasn’t going to like this.

“There’s a guy in Itaewon. Broker. Woojin. He deals in names. If Yonbok’s done work for anyone in this city, Woojin’s caught wind of it.”

Chan looked up sharply. “Didn’t we burn that bridge years ago?”

“We set it on fire,” Minho corrected. “But lucky for you, I’ve got a fire extinguisher. He’ll talk to me.”

Jisung scoffed. “Only because you saved his dog.”

Minho shrugged. “Respect where it’s due. That Pomeranian was bleeding out.”

Chan sighed, standing up. “Fine. You talk to Woojin. Jisung, I want you in the system again. Cross-reference any known associates from the last four years with black-market tech runners, drivers, whatever you can find. Someone helped him. I want a list.”

Jisung gave a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.”

Chan rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright. However, we won't make a move until everyone is here. We don’t know how deep this goes yet, and I want all eyes on it.”

Minho nodded once, folding his arms. “Fine. But the longer we sit on this, the more time Yonbok has to disappear.”

“Let him run,” Jisung said, already tapping away at Chan’s laptop, not even asking for permission. “Rats make mistakes when they think they’re in the clear.”

Minho’s gaze lingered on the grainy image on the screen.

The elevator chimed, followed by the heavy stomp of boots down the hallway.

“–I’m just saying,” Changbin’s voice was heard clear as day even before the door opened, “if I wasn’t stuck babysitting diplomats all night, there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place. My job is to keep things like this from happening, but you insisted I show up with you. One solid punch to the jaw and the kid wouldn’t’ve made it past the first floor.”

He barged in without knocking, just like everyone else. Chan really needs to start teaching them about respect, because he can feel his eye twitching. Changbin was dressed in baggy cargo pants and a random t-shirt that painted a less than pretty scene between a dinosaur and the fucking statue of liberty, looking like he just threw on the closest pair of clothes he could find. Chan was going to have a stroke.

Behind him, Seungmin strolled looking far more composed, adjusting the collar of his trench coat and sipping from an overpriced coffee cup like he had all the time in the world.

“Well, if you ever let me handle press the way I want to,” Seungmin said dryly, “maybe I wouldn’t have to spend my morning doing damage control over the ‘mystery break-in’ at an undisclosed high-value residence, which, by the way, sounds even more suspicious than the truth.”

Seungmin was a double edged sword, handling both the press and also being their lawyer. He kept them out of legal trouble while also dealing with public opinions. He probably dealt with the most, besides chan and hyunjin. Not that he ever complained.

“Sorry,” Changbin barked, “didn’t realize your PR nightmares mattered more than our actual security breach.”

“My PR nightmares are the reason the cops haven’t shown up with warrants. You’re welcome.”

Jisung looked up from the laptop, grinning. “Morning, lovebirds.”

“Shut it,” they snapped in unison.

Chan sighed into his lukewarm coffee and gestured to the glowing screen on the wall. “Yonbok. That’s the thief.”

Changbin marched over, arms crossed, frowning at the blurry profile. “This guy? He looks like he gets winded walking up stairs.”

Seungmin squinted at the screen, unimpressed. “Or someone who knows better than to fight when he can just outsmart the muscle.”

Jisung let out a soft whistle. “Oooh, spicy today.”

Minho didn’t look up from whatever he was doing on his tablet. “He’s always spicy. It’s the only way he survives press briefings without committing murder.”

Seungmin waved his cup pointedly, not looking away either. “You’ll thank me when your precious intel leak doesn’t end up on the news.”

“Focus,” Chan cut in. “We’ve confirmed he wasn’t alone. Jisung and Minho tracked signs of a driver. Might be someone who helped crack the perimeter.”

“Too coordinated for a solo job,” Minho added. 

“Anyone mention how he even got inside in the first place?” Changbin asked, turning his glare to Chan. “Because I swear, if the staff forgot to lock a service door again–”

“They didn’t,” Jisung said. “Trust me, I built the protocols. Whoever this kid is, he knew exactly what to look for.”

Changbin grunted. “Fine. So he’s smart. I’ll still knock his teeth in if I get to him first.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Please do. We can always use another lawsuit.”

“That’s what you’re for.”

“Wrong. I’m for keeping us out of jail. A role you constantly test.”

Chan rubbed at his temples again, a groan pushing past his lips. This is why they’re never over. “Enough. Seungmin, I want you working angles on known aliases and smugglers that might’ve used Yonbok in the last few years. Anyone he could’ve partnered with. Lean on your contacts.”

“On it.” Seungmin typed a note into his phone. “I’ll ask around, but if anyone catches wind of this, they’ll start hiding fast. Yonbok’s name is already urban legend.”

“Changbin,” Chan continued, “you’re on standby. I want a full sweep of our exterior security and off-grid points. If someone fed this kid access, I want to know who and how.”

“Copy that,” Changbin nodded, already pacing. “And if we do catch him…?”

Chan met his eyes. “We follow Hyunjin’s orders. Alive.”

Changbin looked disappointed. “Tch. Waste of a perfectly good kneecap.”

Seungmin smirked. “What a shame. You’ll have to learn self-restraint.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty. Just never use it around you.”

Jisung leaned back in Chan’s chair, hands folded behind his head. “I give it two days before one of you kills the other. Place your bets.”

“Three days,” Minho muttered, not looking up from his screen. “Seungmin’s annoyingly durable.”

“I’m offended,” Seungmin said calmly, sipping his coffee. “But also flattered.”

Chan stood, clapping his hands once. “Alright. You all have your tasks. We move the second we have something solid. Until then, keep quiet and stay sharp.”

Minho’s gaze lingered on the frozen screen. “The longer he runs, the harder he’ll be to catch.”

Seungmin gave a small, knowing smile. “He’ll slip. They always do.”

And somewhere in the city, the ghost boy named Yonbok was already moving again. They just had to catch up.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Minho didn’t like Itaewon. It was always crowded with too many people, and the pressure of bodies and noise made his skin itch. He passed clubs and food stands, making his way toward a small tea shop near the back alley that looked exactly like it always had. Modest, dusty, and untouched. A carved wooden sign above the door read: Charyeok Tea & Imports, but the inside smelled more like stale incense. It never got any customers, but still somehow stayed open.

At least, that’s what Woojin wants people to think.

The shop was a business front. Customers who did come in were never actually there for tea; instead, they came to talk directly to the owner for information. 

Because of how early it was, there was no one there except for the man himself, sweeping the floors as he faced away from the doors. Minho pushed the door open, the chime ringing through the stillness. The man quickly turned around, a scowl plastered across his face when he registered who it was.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve.” he snapped.

Minho didn’t even blink. “Careful, hyung,” Woojin grimaced while he tilted his head, “we both know I'm a cat person.”

It’s not like Minho would ever actually hurt an animal, but Woojin didn’t need to know that. Minho wasn’t actually as cruel as he acted, but it helped in situation’s like these.

Whatever the man had planned on saying died on his tongue at that, setting the broom aside with a grumble and brushing past him to flip the sign in the window to CLOSED. Wordlessly, he jerked his head toward the back room. The two stepped through a narrow hallway and into a dim lounge lined with battered couches, old rugs, and a humming mini fridge. The moment the door shut behind them, Woojin went straight for the fridge and cracked open a can of soju.

“Bit early to start drinking, isn’t it?” Minho thought aloud, already sinking into one of the low couches.

Woojin didn’t miss a beat. “How’d you feel if I said that about your cats?”

“You wouldn’t make it out the door,” Minho growls.

“Exactly.” Woojin plopped onto the couch opposite him with a sigh. “And I don’t need the mafia on my ass any more than it already is.”

“Fair enough.”

A beat passed, heavy with mutual distaste that somehow still bordered on familiarity.

“Now what do you want, Minho?” he sighed, already sounding defeated.

“Straight to the point, huh?”

“I don’t need your bullshit today.”

Minho held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright. I need names.”

Woojin took a long sip, eyeing him. “And in return?”

“Consider this the favor you still owe me.”

Woojin raised an eyebrow. “How are you so sure I know what you want?”

Minho raised one back in challenge. “You always have names.”

“That doesn’t mean I give them out for free.”

“You owe me.” Minho’s voice dipped a little, him unwilling to back down.

“Who am I talking about, then?” Woojin sighed, leaning forward with his arms on his legs.

Minho unlocked his phone and slid it across the table, screen facing up. The frozen image of Yonbok stared back from the wall screen photo. Woojin glanced at it and frowned.

“Tell me he’s not one of yours,” Minho said.

Woojin didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the photo, brow furrowed like something about it bothered him on a gut level.

“Goes by Yonbok,” Minho said. “No records, fingerprints– Nothing. Broke into a place he had no business even knowing existed.”

“Not mine,” Woojin muttered.

“But you’ve seen him.”

“He works for a mafia, not sure which one, though. But I've heard some things.”

“Like what?”

“He’s 20, maybe 21. Stole from the wrong people when he was a kid and got caught. Instead of killing him, someone saw potential and took him in. Been working jobs since he was, what, sixteen? Maybe younger.”

“One more thing.” Minho picks up his phone and slides to a different photo, this one showing him jumping into a black sedan. “He’s got a getaway driver. Any idea who that may be?”

“Never heard of him working with anyone before, but… there's a rumor about him having someone even more of a ghost with him, I think his name is I.N.– at least, that’s what people are calling him. No records, sightings. No age, photo, description; Nothing. Just a code name. I don’t even think the mafia he's technically working for knows who the hell he is.”

“If you thought finding Yonbok was bad, this guy is even worse. Because if Yonbok is a ghost, this guy’s a shadow. They don’t even know how he's tied to Yonbok. All anyone knows is that he’s only ever mentioned by him specifically. But I can’t think of anyone else Yonbok has any sort of relationship with besides his bosses. Wish I could help more, but that's all I got.” 

The room fell quiet.

Woojin stopped responding after that, verbally or physically. And Minho didn’t press. He hadn’t been around Woojin in years, but he knew that there was no way to break him out of that spell.

He stood slowly, grabbing his phone. “Thanks.”

“Don’t steal anything,” Woojin muttered without looking up.

“I wouldn’t take your garbage even if you paid me.”

Minho slipped out into the alley again, the door shutting with a soft click behind him. The second he was out of range, he popped an AirPod into one ear and hit play on the voice recording he had taken secretly. It was nowhere near enough information, only speculation and basic info, but it was more than they had known before. Now what the fuck were they going to do about I.N.?

Minho walked back through Itaewon, jaw tight. It seemed as if Yonbok had a close relationship with the unknown man, considering he managed to keep him under wraps for so long. If they could find a way to I.N., maybe they had a way to yonbok. But ghosts were hard enough to track. Shadows? Even harder.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix was stupid.

Despite him being known for his genius heists and getting away with it, when it came to self-preservation? Absolutely zero instincts. But that came with the job, in a sense. No one does his line of work without some sort of death wish. But his went further than that.

Which is how he ended up stumbling out of some random, nameless club at seven in the morning with his shoes untied and an ankle that wasn’t doing a great job pretending it wasn’t sprained. His boots scraped along the curb, legs wobbling under his own weight and one hand dragging along the slick wall beside him for balance. Half his shirt was untucked, and he reeked of cologne that wasn’t his. The neon signs outside were still flickering, casting garish blues and reds across the pavement as Felix braced himself on the wall, squinting into the morning glare. 

Jeongin’s gonna kill me, he thought distantly, blinking slowly and unfocused.

They had gone home earlier, dropping off the loot and getting ready for the night out. Felix had been buzzing with leftover adrenaline from almost dying and immediately started digging through his closet.

He didn’t wear much. Just black ripped skinny jeans that hugged his legs and a loose white tank top that dipped low enough under the arms to show off the line of his ribs. The bruise across his temple had started to bloom an ugly purple, so he’d dabbed on concealer on it, albeit half-assed, and smeared on a little eyeliner to draw attention away from it. His freckles were still visible, scattered like stars across his skin, and he left his hair down, streaked with tiny braids and a few metal charms catching the light whenever he moved.

He looked good, and everyone who flirted with him that night said as much. Too bad they’d be missing their wallets by morning.

Jeongin himself wore much less, a baggy gray tee and black cargos, as well as the baseball cap he always wore out. He looked good too, in his own adorable way. He just wanted the drinks anyway, so it might’ve worked to his advantage in being left alone.

Felix lost track of how many drinks he’d had. Somewhere between his fourth shot and third bad decision, Jeongin had peeled himself away from the wall, already done with the night. He didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and shoved his way toward the exit, fingers flying over his phone after watching Felix make out with some stranger, one hand already deep in the man’s jacket pocket. 

— — — 

Innie: 

You’re disgusting 

The cars next to the ramen joint 

Wake me when you want to go home.

— — — 

Felix made a mistake when he took more painkillers before they had left. They worked, but even though he didn’t think he drank that much, he was still a little bit more than tipsy making his way towards the car. 

Felix did try to be quiet, he did! He wanted just as much as Jeongin to sleep, but when he opened the car door, it creaked, and he didn’t have as much control of his body as he thought he did when he collapsed into the passenger seat with the grace of a falling mannequin.

“Shit–” Jeongin jerked upright, hand already grabbing at the pistol that sat in his lap. When his eyes slowly adjusted, he sighed and let go of the piece. “Felix?”

Felix groaned, head lolling back against the headrest. “Hey, baby,” he slurred, a grin curling lopsided across his lips. “Miss me?”

Jeongin blinked at him. Then at the floor, where one of Felix’s boots was half-off and a crushed pack of gum had fallen from his back pocket. His face was flushed, eyeliner smudged, hair sticking to the sides of his neck. He reeked of alcohol and guilt.

 “You’re such a dumbass,” Jeongin muttered, turning the key in the ignition.

“I missed you too,” Felix mumbled, closing his eyes with a tired, drunken hum. “I want Haejang-guk,” he decided, very intelligently.

That’s how they ended up in some half-lit restaurant near their apartment, 3 hours later. Jeongin was slouched over the table across from him, chin nearly in his plate, and his eyelids might as well have been shut. His kimchi toast sat mostly untouched, soggy around the edges.

Felix stared at him, amused. “You look like roadkill.”

Jeongin groaned without lifting his head. “And you smell like regret.”

“Not regret,” Felix muttered around a mouthful of soup, “just tequila.”

He was still riding the edge of a hangover. His head felt fuzzy, stomach weirdly fine, ankle definitely not fine, but manageable. Manageable was the word he used when he wasn’t sure if he was doing okay or spiraling. But it worked well enough that he could walk, and that's all he needed. He had the next week to let it heal anyway.

Outside, the early sun was already burning too bright for the way his skull felt. He blinked through it, then glanced down at the cracked phone screen next to his bowl that had lit up with a text message. 

Felix sighed, propping his chin on his palm. “I have to meet the dragon in, like, an hour.”

Jeongin raised a hand without looking up. “Not it.”

“Wouldn’t take you with me even if you begged,” Felix scoffed. “He doesn’t know you exist. Let’s keep it that way.”

The younger boy finally peeled his face off the table, blinking sleepily. “Yeah, well, if you die, I’m keeping the car.”

“You mean my car.”

“I’ve driven it more than you. It’s mine now.”

Felix cracked a grin. That was the closest thing to a ‘good luck’ Jeongin would ever give. He always acted like he didn’t care, but Felix knew that he was just bad at showing his emotions. He appreciated it when he wasn’t as snarky, though.

He had less than an hour to clean himself up and have to deal with G.D.’s crazy and act like he hadn’t just stumbled through the door of this shitty diner reeking of sweat and booze, all while pretending he didn’t notice how Jeongin kept glancing at his limp ankle every time he shifted in his seat.

“Worry less,” Felix said, downing the rest of his lukewarm barley tea in one gulp. “I’ll be back in time for lunch.”

Jeongin scoffed. “Great. Maybe I’ll even be awake for it.”

Felix stood, wincing slightly as he put weight on his ankle. It was still sore, the pain killers wearing off hours ago. He could still work through it, though; he’s done worse.

“Don’t wait up,” he said, grabbing his jacket. It was still damp with rain from the night before, and he probably smelled like mildew. It was better than nothing, though, because he was starting to get self-conscious about the tank top he still wore.

“Wasn’t planning to,” Jeongin muttered, already sinking back into his toast.

Felix didn’t say anything else as he pushed through the restaurant door, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the morning light. He smirked faintly to himself as he limped towards the car.

G.D. was going to love this. Maybe he’d even get to perform the heist he assumed G.D. was planning. There was no reason why he’d want those documents if not for that.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix winced as he shut the door behind him, the little bell above it jingling faintly before the lock clicked into place. The entrance to their apartment sat just behind the tech shop. The front was all cracked phone screens and vintage parts, but the real systems ran beneath, behind firewalled walls and dead-end tunnels through the dark web.

He staggered past the front counter, pushing open the beaded curtain that separated their workspace from their living quarters. The whole apartment was a controlled mess-- cables snaking along the floors, half-finished projects on the dining table, and Jeongin’s laptop open, playing a muted playlist from the living room floor where he'd collapsed with a blanket. He must have walked back sometime when Felix had left. The diner was a block away, anyway.

They technically could afford a luxury 3-story home in a nicer neighborhood, but Felix didn’t want that. He was used to living in shitty homes, and in a way it was comforting. He’d feel too out of place in a fancy one, he feels out of place just walking by them. He liked it when everything was in disarray, and Jeongin did too, thankfully.

Felix huffed out a breath and shrugged off his jacket, kicking the door closed behind him with his good foot. His ankle was seriously starting to piss him off, and he knew that he should be resting it. But he had work to do, and part of that was making sure he didn’t look like shit.

He moved toward the small bathroom, stripping the tank top over his head with a grimace. The bruise at his temple had darkened since the night before, now edged in purple and brown, scabbing over where the bullet had grazed him. He rinsed his face with cold water, then leaned on the sink, peering at himself in the mirror.

“Not your best look, mate,” he muttered in English, towel-drying his face and digging under the cabinet for concealer. His freckled skin was easy to match; he’d done it enough times before meetings like this. He pulled his hair into a bun, leaving a few of the braids and charms in because G.D. liked flair, and he swapped the tank top for a loose black button-down, enough to cover the slight bruising on his ribs and the angry swelling on his arm from the fall. He popped two more painkillers and downed them with mouthwash. Felix made sure to douse himself in an unholy amount of perfume, trying to mask the lingering smell of tequila. He’d take a shower if there was enough time, but he spent too much of it trying to sober up. The outfit was clean, at least, and he still had time to pull on a pair of boots. Boots that made his ankle scream.

He gritted his teeth and leaned against the table beside Jeongin’s computer. A folder lay open nearby, one of the many Felix had snagged last night. He really hoped G.D. would let him take the heist, because he felt ready for it. He could do this. He was ready. He just had to prove it to his hyungs.

When he stepped back out into the shop, Jeongin was seated behind the counter, yawning into his hand with a cup of coffee and his cap pulled low.

“You look slightly less like shit,” he offered. “Congratulations.”

Felix grabbed his sunglasses from the peg by the door. “Wish me luck.”

“I hope he throws something at you.”

“Jeongin.”

“What?”

Felix smirked faintly, then flicked the lights off behind him as he stepped out into the street.

He took the long route towards the rooftop where G.D. did all of his transactions. He wasn’t in a rush, not when his ankle was screaming with every step and the hangover left a pounding headache behind his eyes. He was so stupid. He’s blaming his dumb decisions on the heist; he always has a little bit of adrenaline left over when they’re done, and it’s worse the closer to death he gets. Who he was last night is not the person who has to deal with the consequences in the morning.

The streets were quieter this time of day, but the sun was too bright for how little sleep he’d gotten. He kept his head low, glasses shielding most of his face. He was almost at the alley behind the apartment complex near his shop when two guys turned the corner, heading right toward him.

He shifted to the side to avoid them, but they slowed.

“Hey–err, sorry,” the shorter one said, blinking like he’d just seen a ghost. “Do we... know you?”

Felix glanced up for a split second. One of them had round cheeks and wide eyes, and the other looked half-asleep and suspicious at the same time. Early twenties, maybe older than him. Not a threat, just confused. But Felix didn't recognize them, like, at all.

“No,” he said simply, brushing past.

The taller one squinted. “You sure? You look really–”

“Don’t,” the other one warned, elbowing him. “Just let it go.”

Felix kept walking.

Weird. Maybe they mistook him for someone else, but that wasn’t a common occurrence with his blonde hair. He didn’t dwell on it, though. He was more concerned about the poorly concealed bruise on his head and how he was going to keep a straight face when G.D. inevitably clocked his limp.

The rooftop meeting spot was empty when he arrived. Wind whipped at the strands of hair that had fallen out of the bun, and the city below was blinding, alive, and far too loud for how quiet his head felt.

G.D. appeared the way he always did, and his smile came slowly, crooked. He looked Felix up and down once, taking in the shirt, the limp, the sunglasses.

“You’re late, Bokkie,” he said, tone light, almost teasing.

Felix held up the flash drive. He had put everything onto it so that it wouldn’t be as much of a hassle to carry it around. “But I brought a gift.”

“Ah. That makes everything better.” G.D. held out his hand, and felix dropped the drive into his palm.

“I decrypted everything,” Felix said. “Double-checked the timestamps. No one’s touched it but me.”

G.D. smiled again, wider this time, but his eyes didn’t warm. He turned the drive over like it might break if it weren’t handled carefully. “And yet... you look like you just got dragged out of a nightclub fire.”

Felix shrugged. “Had a night.”

“Mm.” G.D. tucked the drive away into his coat and stepped closer, a little too close for Felix’s liking, his gaze sharp. “Your ankle says it wasn’t just a night. You’re limping.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re lying.” G.D.’s voice turned quiet, dangerous. Felix hated the mood swings. “Don’t lie to me, Yonbok. Makes me feel unloved.”

Felix didn’t speak, just waited. This was just how G.D. worked; never one emotion at a time. He could kiss you and shoot you in the same breath. Even after working for the man all these years, even growing close to him, you could never be too weary. It was better to just let him do what he wanted and deal with the consequences later. He was better in closed doors around T.O.P., but out in the opened he seemed to get a little more unhinged.

G.D. exhaled through his nose. “What happened?”

“Nothing that matters.”

A beat passed.

Then G.D. laughed, clapping a hand to Felix’s shoulder, the pressure just a bit too firm. “Ah, you’re too proud. You always were. But I forgive you.”

Felix didn’t move. G.D. stepped back, lifting his arms like a conductor before an orchestra. “You did well. Very well. These files… they’re going to help me get my hands on something I've had my eye on for a long time. And guess what?”

Felix raised an eyebrow.

“You get to help me get that.”

“Lucky me.”

“Go home,” G.D. said, all sugar again. “Rest. Ice that leg. You’re too valuable to be limping around like some injured stray; that’s how predators find you. I’ll send you the details later.”

Felix nodded. “Noted.”

“And Yonbok?”

He turned back.

“I saw two men walking towards your shop on my way here,” G.D. said, voice honeyed. “Friends of yours?”

Felix’s stomach went tight. “Don’t have friends.”

“Good,” G.D. beamed. “Keep it that way.”

Felix’ mouth opened before he could stop himself, “G.D. hyung?”

“Yes, Bokkie?”

“Who did i steal from?”

G.D. laughed openly at that, and felix knew he wasn’t going to like the answer “STRAY, of course!”

Felix paled at that. Fuck. What the fuck did he just get himself into? Fuck. 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung hadn’t expected to feel nervous walking into a tech shop. He was constantly surrounded by tech, it had basically become his whole life. But that short encounter with the man outside fucked with him more than he thought. He looked familiar somehow, but he had no idea why. There was nothing remarkable about him other than his blonde hair, but with the influence of K-pop, it was becoming more common nowadays. Changbin had green hair, for fuck’s sake. The man’s face had been covered with those sunglasses, and his outfit stuck out from the poorer district they were in, but he guessed he and Seungmin didn’t look much better, considering the younger had refused to wear anything other than that trench coat. Not to mention the deep ass voice that did not match anything with the appearance. He doesn’t know why his brain focused on that.

He’d only seen the man for a second before he pulled Seungmin away and told him to drop it. They didn’t need to pick fights with strangers, they had enough on their hands. But it stuck in his brain like a splinter.

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, the noise sharp against the low hum of servers and LED fans. The place was compact, half workbench and half storefront, with wires hanging like ivy and shelves full of old phones, camera lenses, and salvaged parts. Organized chaos.

Behind the counter was a boy, maybe their age, maybe younger, with sharp, foxlike eyes that flicked up the moment the door chimed. His jaw was soft, contrasting with the focused edge in his gaze. He wore a baggy sweater with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a well-worn baseball cap tugged low over short, curly hair, and thin glasses that caught the overhead light. He looked up from whatever circuit board he’d been working on, chewing gum slowly as he sized them up.

Jisung blinked. He knew that face.

“Jeongin?”

The boy froze mid-chew. “…Do I know you?”

“It’s Jisung. Han Jisung. We… used to go to school together. You were a year under me at the arts academy, right?”

Jisung had gone to the arts academy for a year, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about. Hyunjin had mentioned it when they were in high school, and since he was the only one who had any free time, he went in place of him. They had more than enough money to waste on something like that. And he hated it. He was no artist, he’d rather write poetry. But it was nice to see normal people outside of the screens he’d surround himself with.

It was there that he had first seen Jeongin. He was shorter back then, with bright ginger hair. Jisung never talked to him, but his looks always caught his eye. He changed a lot in that short year, it seems. He didn’t wear the same cheerful smile, and his eyebags were significantly more noticeable now. It felt like whiplash.

Something shifted in Jeongin’s expression, not recognition, per se, but something. “Maybe,” he said vaguely, setting down his tools. “I transferred out sophomore year.”

Seungmin nudged Jisung’s arm, silently reminding him why they were here.

“Right,” Jisung said, clearing his throat. “Sorry. Uh, we heard this place might do clean data recoveries. No questions asked?”

Jeongin leaned his elbows on the counter, eyes sharpening. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“Just a couple of guys with a corrupted drive and a deadline,” Seungmin replied, sliding a small flash over the counter.

Jeongin picked it up carefully, spinning it between his fingers. “Hm. You’re lucky, I’m good at lost causes.”

“We’ve noticed,” Jisung said before he could stop himself.

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to mean something?”

Jisung hesitated, watching his face. There was something closed off in the way he held himself, nothing like the shy kid who used to trail behind the older boys after piano recitals. He looked… sharper now. Like someone who’d seen too much too fast.

“No,” Jisung said finally. “Just familiar, I guess.”

Jeongin held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before shrugging. “Come back in a day or two. I’ll see what I can pull.”

He turned back toward his workbench, clearly done talking.

Jisung and Seungmin exchanged a glance before heading for the door.

“Hey,” Jeongin called after them, not turning around. “Did you see someone outside earlier?”

Jisung paused. “Yeah. my height, black shirt, sunglasses. Looked messed up.”

Jeongin’s hand stilled over the keyboard. “Huh.”

“Friend of yours?”

“No,” Jeongin said quickly. “Never seen him.”

But the tension in his shoulders told a different story. Jisung didn’t push. He just nodded and stepped outside with Seungmin, the door clicking softly behind them.

“That was weird,” Jisung muttered while walking down the alleyway next to the shop, Seungmin in tow.

“No, it wasn’t,” Seungmin replied flatly. “You’re just too anti-social to understand what basic human interaction looks like.”

He scoffed. “Don’t make this a big deal. Im already nervous from going to some shitty shop to fix the security footage, but apparently you’re too dumb to handle it yourself.”

“Excuse me for having finely tuned instincts for danger,” Jisung huffed. “You want to get murdered in a shady back alley, be my guest. I’m just saying that guy had bad energy.”

“You’ve said that about the cashier at GS25.”

“She did look like she knew too much!”

“She looked like she was seventeen and underpaid.”

“Why must you wound me, my dearest maknae?” Jisung threw his hands in the air. “You can’t blame me for being suspicious when the man is acting suspicious. Dude lied to our faces about knowing that freak with the deep voice out back, how is that not weird to you?”

“I don’t know. Why must you be like this?” Seungmin deadpanned. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to us, hm? Would you tell everyone you know Hyunjin? And I'm literally a week younger than you!”

“You wound me again! I’m bleeding emotionally.”

“Keep it down, Shakespeare.”

“Nobody just goes around saying they know the leader of STRAY, dumbass. You need better examples. And nobody lies for no reason, Min.”

“Everyone lies for a reason. Theirs just might be that you’re annoying.”

“Wow.” Jisung clutched his chest like Seungmin had stabbed him. “You know, it baffles me how you’re still single with that silver tongue of yours.”

“I’m not single. I’m emotionally unavailable and nobody’s good enough for me.”

“You sound like Hyunjin.”

“Don’t bring him into this. He’ll materialize out of sheer ego.”

Jisung snorted, pointing his finger at the taller's chest. “You’re just mad because you secretly want to be him.”

Seungmin blinked slowly. “I’d rather die than own that many silk shirts.”

“Fair point.”

They turned a corner, the narrow alley opening up into a quiet main street. Jisung squinted at the sun like it was personally attacking him.

“God, that’s enough vitamin D for the next year. I’m going to break out in hives.”

“You’re not a vampire, you’re just pale and melodramatic.”

“I’m not pale, I’m aesthetic.”

“You’re allergic to windows.”

Jisung flung his arms out again. “I only took this job because if Hyunjin made me a public figure, I’d jump off a building. Do you know how close I was to becoming his PR puppet?”

“Yeah, I remember. You cried in the bathtub for an hour.”

“They were quiet tears.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “You played Mitski on your speakers. I could hear the violins from the hallway.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “You are heartless.”

“I’m realistic.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“I know.”

They walked a few more steps in silence, the tension slowly replaced with the usual rhythm of their banter. A bus rumbled past them, and Jisung finally exhaled.

“…You think that guy’s going to find anything in the drive?”

Seungmin shrugged. “If he does, we’ll figure something else out. We always do.”

Jisung nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

“And if not,” Seungmin added casually, “you can always fake your own death and start fresh in Japan.”

“…Don’t tempt me.”

Seungmin glanced sideways. “I’m serious. I already made a fake passport for you. It's under the name ‘Hanji Sato.’”

Jisung blinked. “Wait. You what?”

Seungmin smirked. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix got back to the apartment pretty suickly after that, all but running into their apartment. He couldn’t breath. What the fuck was wrong with G.D.? why would he put a target on his back like that? He knew. G.D. knew Felix had broken into STRAY’s mansion. Probably one of their many mansions, but whatever. Who lived there? Was it Hwang Hyunjin? Did it matter? It probably didn’t, the man was going to find out anyways. Because G.D. had set him up. And now he was roped into whatever insane scheme the man had planned next, probably going to break into their auction house for god knows what, and he can’t back out now, because he already agreed to it.

“Fuck!” The word tore from his throat, more a growl than a shout, guttural and cracked from the lack of air. He collapsed on the the couch, ripping the sunglasses from his face and fumbling at the buttons of his shirt with trembling hands.

He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t breathe. The air just wouldn’t stay in his lungs, and what did make it through was quickly expelled. Everything felt too hot, his skin prickled with sweat, the fabric sticking to his back like it was melting into him. He yanked at his shirt, desperate to feel less confined, less trapped.

He was spiraling. Fast. His vision narrowed at the edges, tunneling toward the ceiling above him as his thoughts raced. What was he going to do? He was going to die. Actually die. Before it was just a possibility, now it was his reality. There was no way he was going to walk out of this in one piece. And G.D. was the reason. That man was not his hyung, and if T.O.P. was in on this too– then fuck him. He could burn with the rest of them. And he can’t run, because G.D. will kill him instead. So what the fuck was he supposed to do?

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu—”

Suddenly, a hand was on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers.

Felix jerked so hard he nearly fell off the couch. His wild eyes snapped up to where Jeongin stood in front of him, both hands raised in surrender, like he was approaching a spooked animal.

When did he get there?

“...trying to help” Felix heard Jeongin say, but he didn’t hear it. He couldn’t focus on anything. 

And then a soft hum filtered through the room. It was barely audible, but felix zone in on it like a lifeline. He couldn’t recognize the tune, but it was grounding. Jeongin wasn’t even looking at him when he did it, just focused on unfastening the last few buttons of Felix’s shirt, his touch light and efficient.

He felt himself relax slightly, and Jeongin crouched in front of him, eyes steady beneath the rim of his cap. “Okay. Look at me.”

Felix tried. Failed. Tried again. This time, he met Jeongin’s gaze, shaking and sweat-soaked.

“Breathe in for four. Now. In—one, two, three, four. Hold. Out—one, two, three, four.”

Felix followed, barely keeping up at first, but Jeongin’s voice was steady, deadpan and calm in a way that helped.

“Again. In. Hold. Out.”

They did it a few more times until the room stopped tilting.

“Better?”

Felix swallowed. “A little.”

“Good.”

Without a word, Jeongin climbed up onto the couch and pulled him into his arms.

Felix should’ve pulled away. His shirt was half-off, and he knew he reeked of a mix of booze, sweat, and perfume. He felt disgusting.

But Jeongin didn’t care, he held him anyway, his arms firm around his shoulders, chin resting lightly on top of his head.

It should’ve been the other way around, Felix was the hyung. He was supposed to be the one holding Jeongin, protecting him from shit like this. But right now, all he could do was lean in.

And Jeongin let him.

After a while, Jeongin whispered, “Do you want to tell me what happened? I understand if you need a second.”

Then, with a voice that cracked on the first word, he said, “I’m dead, Innie.”

Felix stared at the blank wall in front of them, voice flat and empty. “G.D. set me up. I broke into one of STRAY’s mansions. And now he’s making me rob their auction house.”

Silence.

The hum of the old server in the back room buzzed faintly.

Jeongin adjusted his arms around him, his tone unreadable. “You’re not dead.”

“I will be. If they catch me, I’m dead. If I don’t do it, G.D. kills me. If I try and fail, I’m dead twice.” Felix laughed hollowly. “I don’t even know who the mansion belonged to. Might’ve been Hwang Hyunjin. Does it matter? They’ll all come after me when they find out.”

He shook his head, eyes unfocused. “Why the hell would G.D. do that to me? He said I was family.”

Jeongin was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “He was lying.”

That broke something in felix, because it was true. He lied to him, and if he wasn’t, felix didn’t want to be apart of that family anyways.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

They stayed like that on the couch for a while. Felix was curled into Jeongin’s side, eyes blank, hands twitching now and then like his body hadn’t quite processed that the threat wasn’t immediate. He felt wrung out, his whole body buzzing with leftover adrenaline. Jeongin didn’t speak much. He just held him, occasionally humming some nameless tune and adjusting the blanket he’d draped over them both.

Eventually, Felix stirred, blinking hard and rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm. His shirt still hung open, clinging slightly with sweat, but the panic had passed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice raw.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jeongin replied easily. “You’d do the same for me.”

Felix looked over at him, the smallest of grateful smiles pulling at his mouth. “Still. That was pathetic.”

“It was a panic attack, felix. You couldn’t control that, and you should be allowed to lose your shit once in a while.”

Felix huffed something like a laugh and finally sat up. Jeongin followed, stretching his back with a groan before getting to his feet.

“Come on. I’ll show you what I was working on. Might help you get your mind off it.”

Felix trailed after him, grateful for something, anything, to focus on. Jeongin led him into the small workshop corner of their apartment, which was cluttered with open hard drives, spools of wire, soldering equipment, and about five half-drunk cans of cola.

Jeongin slid into his rolling chair and pulled a monitor toward him, tapping a few keys. “Client dropped this off earlier. Claimed it was corrupted due to the power getting shut off.”

“Is it?”

“Nah, just needs to be tweaked.” Jeongin popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “It’s always the flashy types that panic over some minor data loss. Honestly, this one’s just needs a little bit of work. I’m running it through a scrub program now.”

Felix leaned against the doorframe, watching as lines of code and corrupted thumbnails began to resolve into clearer images. His eyes narrowed.

“That…” He pointed at the screen. “That looks like the mansion I–” He stopped short, brain catching up to his mouth too late.

Jeongin turned to look at him slowly, curiosity sharp behind his glasses. “The mansion you what?”

“Never mind,” Felix said quickly. “Keep going.”

Jeongin gave him a look, but didn’t press. The software finished loading, and a window popped up; “Recovered Footage - 03/05”. He clicked it open.

They both watched in silence.

The video was grainy, security footage from a high angle. There was a long hallway with ornate marble floors, soft lighting, and expensive art hanging on the walls. After a few seconds, a figure stepped into frame, hood up, face low, but the frame was unmistakable. Blond hair, slight build, ripped jeans and gloves.

Felix’s blood turned to ice.

“That’s you,” Jeongin said, voice flat.

Felix didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the screen in horror as his past self moved through the hall with practiced precision, avoiding cameras, picking locks, slipping into rooms and moving to the next when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

The footage cut to another camera angle, this time, a wide shot of the main office.

It showed him shuffling through drawers, eventually showing the stand-off he had with the owner of the mansion.

Felix felt his stomach drop.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “That’s—”

“The mansion,” Jeongin finished for him, slowly. “STRAY’s mansion.”

They looked at each other.

“…They’re STRAY,” Felix said, throat dry. “They dropped it off..”

“And I’m fixing their damn security drive,” Jeongin muttered.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. so much for a distraction.

Then Felix groaned and sank into the nearest chair, head in his hands. “I’m so fucking dead.”

Chapter Text

Felix felt like he was going a little crazy.

He hadn’t left his apartment since his last meeting with G.D., not even to take out the trash. The walls of the apartment felt too thin, like eyes could pierce through them if he moved too close to the windows, paranoia clinging to him. He was afraid to check the door, afraid to hear a knock. Afraid that the next time he peeked through the beads that separated him from the shop, he’d see Jisung or Seungmin again, learning their names through Jeongin. He prayed they hadn’t put the pieces together when he ran into them before. 

They stopped by after two days to retrieve the drive. Felix hadn’t been in the room when it happened, but he told Jeongin to just hand it over. It wasn’t going to change anything. The footage was already recovered, his face was on it. STRAY’s men had seen him in their house, stealing from one of their many mansions like it was nothing. If they hadn’t figured it out yet, they would. It was only a matter of time. Plus, they would probably get more suspicious if they said they couldn’t fix it. Felix was stressed out enough; he didn’t need to get caught beforehand.

G.D. had sent the information about the auction house anyway, sealing his fate. What did it matter if they had seen his face? They were going to kill him regardless, if G.D. didn't himself.

The message came in the day before, sent through a burner app he didn’t realize was still active. G.D.’s voice filtered through as a voice memo, cheery and almost manic, like a game show host reading off the rules to a game where the only prize was survival.

“Auction House. STRAY’s private vault. Floor 4B. South side, biometric lock. Inside, there’s a case. Compact, titanium. Looks like a makeup kit. You’ll know it when you see it. Get it. Get out. No excuses. You’ve got three days.”

There were no specifics about what was inside. There never were.

Felix knew better than to ask. If it was in STRAY’s private auction vault, it was something important; either a prototype, blackmail material, or something rarer and far more dangerous. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to know. G.D. just wanted it, and he wanted Felix to be the thief.

And the kicker?

If Felix refused, if he backed out or ran, G.D. would out him as the man who infiltrated STRAY’s mansion. All the evidence would be packaged neatly, like a gift. His image pulled from the security footage, his address forwarded to the people he stole from. G.D. didn’t even have to lift a finger; STRAY would do the dirty work for him.

So yeah, it didn’t matter anymore.

Jeongin had tried to ask what was going on, why Felix hadn’t been eating, why he jumped at every sound, why he’d gone completely silent since the drive was recovered. But Felix couldn’t bring himself to explain. What would he even say? Jeongin knew why, but he had never seen Felix like this before, so he couldn’t blame him for the confusion.

He stared at the wall of his bedroom now, where the cracked blinds let in faint bars of streetlight, and tried to keep breathing.

Three days.

He had three days to figure out how to survive this, or to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Hyunjin hated mornings.

He hated them more when they started in boardrooms, with black coffee that tasted burnt and Chan droning on about security measures for an event that wasn’t even happening for three more days.

“We’re expecting reps from BANG, obviously,” Chan was saying, laser pointer tapping the screen behind him where the floor plan of the Gangnam venue was projected. “G.D. confirmed. Which means T.O.P., Taeyang, and Daesung won’t be far behind.”

Hyunjin sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He had barely spoken since they arrived, letting Chan handle the logistics. That’s what second-in-commands were for, aren’t they? No, that was rude. He was just stressed from everything going on lately. He wouldn’t be able to operate anything if not for Chan. he should show him more respect, considering he was his hyung. 

They still hadn’t caught any leads about Yonbok, yet, aside from the now clear security footage they had retrieved from the tech shop Seungmin and Jisung had gone to. Hyunjin was considering hiring the kid who had restored it, because even Jisung didn’t know how to. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone like that in their ranks, and what was the boy going to do? Say no? As if. He reminded Jisung to go down there and retrieve him. 

Now that the footage was clearer, they had a clear sight as to what yonbok looked like. He had bright, large eyes, big lips, and a slim chin and nose. He could be mistaken as a girl, if he tried, with his long blonde hair and slim figure. In other words, he was stunning, which Hyunjin was not used to seeing with thieves. Yonbok was quite a peculiar case in all categories. It made  Hyunjin want to break him just to see what he looked like when he shattered.

The tension in the room was thick, and he didn’t miss the flicker in Jisung’s eye as he scanned the blueprint, the tightness in Minho’s jaw, or the way Changbin kept shifting like he was going to snap if this didn’t get over with.

“We’re not planning for guests,” Minho finally said, voice low, clean-cut. “We’re planning for snakes.”

Hyunjin looked at him then. “You think someone’s going to try something.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement on the others' thoughts.

“I think someone already has,” Minho replied. “We’re still looking into the break-in last week. And that drive was targeted, not random. No one knew about the contents in that file except for the other mafias, and we’ve already confirmed Yonbok works for one.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tensed.

Seungmin, lounging at the far end of the table in a pressed blazer, spoke next, his expression blank as always. “The legal angle is fine. Documents are clean, no paper trail. But I want surveillance everywhere. You know G.D.; he doesn’t breathe unless it serves him.”

“We’ll have a rotating team inside and out,” Jisung added, flipping through his tablet. His tone was clipped, all business. It was different from how he normally acted. “I’ve updated the security encryption on the vault. Dual biometric scan and passcode. No one gets to the auction floor without clearance.”

“And the guests?” Hyunjin finally asked.

Chan nodded. “Confirmed list. Most are expected, but BANG and the rest will bring outsiders. We won’t know who until they arrive.”

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, lips pressed thin. “Then we watch. No room for mistakes.”

Everyone fell quiet. The tension in the air thickened.

“You think they’ll try to steal something?” Changbin asked, cracking his knuckles. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his, because Hyunjin’s already heard the first set being cracked.

Hyunjin looked at him, eyes cold.

“No,” he said. “I think they already have someone inside.”

They didn’t say anything after that, because they all knew it wasn’t just a possibility, it was a promise.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung leaned against the passenger door of the matte black car, stubbing the partially smoked cigarette before pocketing it. “I don’t know why I’m the one doing this,” he muttered as Changbin shut the driver’s door beside him. “I’m a hacker, not a fucking errand boy.”

“Less whining, more kidnapping,” Changbin said with a grin, already halfway to the door. His shoulders stretched the seams of his muscle tee, and Jisung thinks it's so he’ll look intimidating. 

“We aren’t kidnapping him, Changbin. We’re just… offering him a job that he’ll take against his will.” Jisung mumbled. 

“So, kidnapping. Just with extra steps.”

The bell above the shop door jingled as they stepped inside, and Jeongin’s head immediately snapped up from whatever he was working on behind the counter. His eyes landed on them; Jisung, specifically, and they widened, going a little pale, but he quickly schooled his expression. It was odd. Did he figure out who they were? Or did he go snooping where he didn’t belong? Jisung liked the boy to a certain extent from school, but he was seriously fucking suspicious.

They calmly made their way to the front, and by that time, Jeongin seemed to get over whatever was troubling him.

“Need another drive fixed?” he asked, assuming they were there for another repair.

Instead of gum, he twirled a lollipop in his mouth today. He wore a similar outfit as before, same glasses and baseball cap, but today he was in a graphic tee and baggy cargo shorts. He looked like a child, in an endearing sort of way.

“No,” Jisung said, voice smooth as he leaned on the counter. “Today’s special. We’ve got something better.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “Better than broken tech?”

“A job offer,” Changbin said, stepping up beside him, crossing his arms and making the muscles in his arms pop. Jisung was right; it is an intimidation tactic. “Our boss wants to see you. Personally.”

“What makes you think I want to work for a bunch of people I don’t know?” Jeongin snorted, crossing his arms right back. He was nowhere near as buff as Changbin, but there was an air of defiance and straight disrespect radiating off of him.

Jisung sighed. He really didn’t want things to escalate, and while Changbin was a total sweetheart on the inside, he takes his job very seriously. Jisung wouldn’t be surprised if the man ended up knocking the kid out if he refused to cooperate.

“Just come with us willingly, please. I don't want things to get–err, violent, I guess.” Jisung smiled tightly, and he watched Jeongin’s eyes widen at that. 

God, they really were kidnapping him.

“How long am I staying there then?” Jeongin asked, voice tight with tension. He looked like he was going to bolt, but then his eyes widened again, and suddenly he seemed calm. Like he wasn’t getting kidnapped right now. “Just curious.”

Everything about this situation was rubbing Jisung the wrong way. What is up with this kid?

“I’d say pack your bags, kid.” Changbin smiled, seemingly unaware of how odd the interaction was. Maybe Jisung was just antisocial. Every time he brought his concerns up, everyone told him he was crazy. He needs to relax. If Hyunjin wants to trust him, he will too, then. But if something wrong happens, he is so rubbing it in their faces that he was right.

“Alright. Give me a sec.” Jeongin suddenly darted into the back room before either of them could react.

— — — 

As soon as Jeongin was out of sight, he darted into Felix’s room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

Felix startled, nearly knocking over the pile of files spread across his lap. “Jesus fucking– Jeongin?!”

“Felix,” Jeongin gasped, leaning against the door, “they’re here.”

“What?!” he screeched before clamping his hand over his mouth, forgetting how thin the walls were. He switched to whisper-shouting, scrambling off his bed. “What the hell do you mean they’re here?!”

“Jisungs here with some random guy,” Jeongin groaned, wiping a hand down his face. He crossed the room in two steps, grabbing Felix by the shoulders. “Okay. Please, don’t freak out.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Why would I freak ou–”

“I’m serious, hyung, don’t freak out,” Jeongin insisted. Then, in one breath, like ripping off a bandage: “JisungsaidthatHwangHyunjinwantstomeetmeandoffermeajobandIdon’thaveachoice.”

Felix stared blankly at him for a second. Then: “HE SAID WHAT?!”

Jeongin winced, bracing for impact. “Told you you’d freak out.”

“Don’t give me that shit right now, Yang Jeongin.” Jeongin physically recoiled. Not the full name. 

“Ive been keeping you out of everyone’s radar for fucking years – years! – And now you’re caught up in this anyway. I mean, fuck, what are we going to do?” Felix ripped himself away from Jeongin’s hold and started pacing, yanking at handfuls of his hair. It was clear he was on the verge of another panic attack.

“Hyung,” Jeongin stepped forward again, gentling his voice as he grabbed Felix’s arms. “Breathe. Just listen to me, okay?”

“This could be a good thing. With me working on the inside, I can help with the heist. This is a good thing.”

“You’re insane,” Felix muttered, but he wasn’t yelling anymore.

Jeongin quickly gave the older a tight hug before walking out of the bedroom, heading to the cluttered desk. He grabbed the small tracker he built from scrap parts, shoved it into his shoe, then snatched two prototype earpieces he’d made, originally going to use them on one of Felix’s heists.

“This is how we’ll contact each other, I’m sure they’re gonna take my phone the second I’m in. I've already taken too much time. Help me pack?”

And he did. Felix didn’t answer, just moved. They quickly threw together a bag, working in sync. The panic still hadn’t left Felix’s eyes, but he didn’t say a word. As much as he was worried about him, Jeongin knew that they had to hurry up. They might think he bolted, and he really didn’t need them coming back and finding Felix.

Once Jeongin had everything, he turned to the hallway that led towards the shop, then hesitated. he turned around and gave Felix a forehead kiss, pressing their heads together before backing up. He hated physical affection, but Felix had always been his one exception, even if he didn’t act like it. Whenever the older had hugged him, he felt as if he’d melt into the touch. “We’ll be okay. I love you, hyung.”

Felix’s voice broke just a little. “I love you too, Innie. Please, be safe.”

And with that, he stepped back out into the shop.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The walls of the shop weren’t thick.

Jisung could hear it all, from the muffled thud of running feet to the frantic voice shouting in the back. A voice that sounded suspiciously like the guy they’d seen behind the shop last time. “Never heard of him” my ass. His fingers drummed restlessly on the counter. His cigarette was long gone, but he wished he still had it.

Changbin raised an eyebrow. “That sounded like a fight.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Jisung’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing at the beads that separated them from the back room. “He ran off immediately. What if he bolts?”

Changbin leaned his back against the counter, arms crossed. “I think you’re being paranoid.”

“No, I’m being realistic,” Jisung muttered. “He could be calling someone. Or warning them.”

Changbin tilted his head, clearly considering it now. “You think he knows?”

“I think we’re being played,” Jisung muttered. “Hyunjin’s gonna lose his shit if we bring back someone who’s already compromised.”

Before Changbin could answer, the bead curtain rattled. Jeongin stepped out, casual as anything.

His face was smooth, voice too even. “Sorry. Had to grab a few things.”

Jisung straightened, not hiding the suspicion in his tone. “You were gone a while.”

Jeongin didn’t miss a beat. “I wasn’t expecting a surprise trip. Had to pack some clothes, close out a few things.”

“Mhm,” Jisung hummed, eyes narrowing. “Sure that’s all you did?”

Jeongin’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “What else would I be doing?”

Jisung opened his mouth to press further, but Changbin clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Kid’s coming. That’s all we were told to do.”

Jisung didn’t move right away. His gaze stayed locked on Jeongin, like he could get the kid to spill if he stared hard enough.

Jeongin met it head-on. “Lead the way,” he said lightly.

That definitely wasn’t normal.

Jisung continued to stare at him, trying to read whatever the hell was going on behind those stupidly round glasses, but Jeongin’s expression was unreadable now. Whatever wide-eyed panic he’d shown earlier had been scrubbed clean. He’d made a decision, and Jisung had no idea what that was. He hated not knowing things.

“You’re taking this pretty well for someone who was about to get chloroformed five minutes ago,” Jisung said suspiciously as they made their way to the exit, trying to instill some sort of fear into him. 

He looked so relaxed, and it made Jisung want to tell Changbin to knock him out instead. He needs to get his anger issues in check, but everyone making him feel like he was crazy for being suspicious made him want to rip his hair out. 

Jeongin grinned, lollipop stick poking from his mouth. “Maybe I like danger.”

Changbin chuckled like he thought the kid was funny. Jisung wanted to strangle them both. Jeongin followed silently, slipping out the door into the late afternoon sun. He didn’t look back once, but Jisung did.

He stared at the building for a few seconds too long, something gnawing in his gut. Something about this whole thing was off.

And if Jeongin thought he could pull one over on them, he was going to learn real fast. Jisung didn’t trust anyone blindly, especially not cute kids with lollipops.

They stuffed Jeongin in the back of the matte black car, and he didn’t complain, just buckled in like it was an Uber ride. He even pulled out his phone and started tapping away like it was just another Tuesday.

Jisung snatched the phone from his hands, glancing at it momentarily. “You texting your mom or something?” Jisung asked dryly, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“No,” Jeongin replied. He looked like he got caught off guard from the sudden movement, but other than that, he didn’t seem actually surprised that he took it. “Just letting my roommate know I won’t be back tonight.”

“Ah,” Changbin clicked his tongue as he started the engine. “So that’s who was screaming at you.”

Jeongin shrugged, “Well, he wasn’t exactly thrilled that I'm getting into a random stranger’s car.”

“Reasonable,” Changbin said smoothly, pulling away from the curb. “Everything’ll be explained soon.”

Jisung sent a quick text to Hyunjin that they got the kid, and there were no fights. Jisung was kind of excited to see what Hyunjin thought of Jeongin. Maybe he’d be confirmed about his suspicions. Regardless, he’s still curious about what was planned. They haven’t tried to recruit anyone except for normal employees in years.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The ride was unbearably tense. Less from the man behind the wheel, more from Jisung. He was giving Jeongin serious whiplash. Three days ago, he was all smiles and talking about when Jeongin went to art school last year, and now he’s acting like Jeongin was gonna jump them with a knife.

He didn’t know where they were going specifically, but he assumed it had something to do with Hwang Hyunjin. He needed to get ready for that, because if he didn’t look shocked or scared, they’d know he already knew who they were. They had already been on the road for around 30 minutes now, exiting the border of Seoul and taking backroads surrounded by trees. He was starting to not be able to hide how nervous he was, shaking his leg and chewing anxiously on the already finished lollipop stick. When Jisung glanced back at him, he smirked. Jeongin guessed this helped with passing, even though he wished he could wipe the grin off the man's face. Probably not a good idea. He bet Jisung felt the same way about him earlier.

They eventually pulled up to a brick-columned fence, with high metal gates featuring intricate designs in front of them. Cameras surrounded them, and when they pulled up, the driver rolled down his window to show the watch guard who he was. A couple seconds later, the gates creaked open, and they continued driving. But the problem was, Jeongin couldn't find where they were driving to. There was nothing in sight aside from the fence stretching farther than his eyesight allowed. 

They drove for maybe 20 minutes longer, and when their destination came into view, Jeongin could feel his jaw drop. Calling it a mansion almost felt insulting. This place looked more like a palace. It towered at three stories tall, with architecture that was the perfect fusion of Victorian grandeur and sleek modern elegance. Massive stone walls gleamed pale gray under the last remnants of sunlight, streaked with white accents and black-framed windows that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. There were so many windows. It almost glowed from within, the interior lights twinkling like warm stars behind pristine glass.

It made the mansion Felix had stolen from, the one Jeongin had thought was lavish at the time, look like a summer house. This wasn’t just wealth, it was power. And it was flaunted unapologetically.

The car wound around an enormous circular driveway paved in cobblestone, the center dominated by a marble fountain with a twisting sculpture in the middle; a pair of silver wolves, snarling back-to-back, jaws open in a silent warning. The water shimmered gold under soft, embedded lighting.

Jeongin’s gaze flicked to the perimeter. Guards were everywhere, moving in well-practiced patterns; at the front gate, along the porch, tucked beneath the line of meticulously trimmed hedges that edged the estate. The driveway was flanked by flowers he couldn’t name, in rich reds and inky purples.

He barely noticed the engine had stopped. Both men in the front seat turned around just to grin at him.

“Cute,” the driver snorted, nudging Jisung.

“Never seen a castle before, kid?” Jisung teased, one brow arched.

Jeongin scowled and forced himself to look away, but the heat crawling up his neck gave him away. He hated how easy it was to read his astonishment.

God help him. What had he just walked into?

“Who the hell do you work for??” he sputtered, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. He already knew the answer, but he had to keep the act up. It helped that he was already flustered from the house alone, and it seemed to work, Jisung relaxing slightly and cackling louder.

The driver and Jisung shared a look, mischief clouding their eyes, then Jisung turned back to Jeongin.

“That's the surprise,” he smirked, “you’ll find out where we get there.”

The driver laughed, and it was a weird one, not matching his looks at all. “Try not to get lost.”

They made their way through the gigantic wooden doorway, and if the outside had been beautiful, the inside was downright ethereal. Jeongin couldn’t help the way his steps slowed or how his eyes widened, soaking in everything around him with awe.

The ceilings stretched impossibly high, arched with intricate molding, curved vines along the edges, gold-leafed in places that caught the light just right. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, each dangling piece shimmering like cut diamonds as the light moved.

Original oil paintings lined the walls. Not random, but impressive scenes of wildflower fields, misty mountains, and storms frozen mid-tempest. There were also framed photographs placed tastefully along the halls: men in sharp suits, a younger Hyunjin smiling beside an older man who had the same sharp eyes. 

Red carpets rolled down the corridors like a runway, bordered in black and trimmed with gold. His shoes barely made a sound against them. Beneath the carpeted paths were polished hardwood floors so glossy they reflected the chandelier’s fractured light.

He passed under carved wooden archways that looked older than the building itself, each post etched with symbols and curling patterns. Even the corners of the hallways were finished with warm accents. Vases of fresh flowers, antique bronze statues, and candleholders that smelled faintly of clove and cedar.

Even the air smelled expensive. Subtle cologne, old wood, a flicker of incense somewhere further in.

It was warm. It was stunning. It was also, unmistakably, a home, not just a base. That was the part that unsettled Jeongin most. Even though he knew it was one, it felt so utterly lifeless. There was not a single thing out of place, no implication that it was lived in. as beautiful as it felt, Jeongin still preferred his tiny apartment in the shop. At least then it felt real, not something he could only dream of.

They walked through what felt like a maze, endless halls winding through the mansion, and Jeongin was sure he would’ve actually gotten lost if it weren't for the other two. He had no clue how many turns they took or how many corridors they passed; all he knew was that his legs were starting to burn. He was not built for this much cardio.

Finally, they stopped in front of a massive set of double doors. The driver stepped forward and opened them, and instead of flushing, Jeongin immediately paled. At the far end of the room stood four men, but the one in the center held Jeongin’s attention. No matter how ready he thought he’d be, nothing could’ve actually prepared him to stand in front of the Hwang Hyunjin. There was no mistaking him, either. He was tall, sharp-eyed, and almost absurdly beautiful. He looked like he’d been carved from marble and dressed in power. 

Jeongin's breath caught.

He barely registered the others, though his brain slowly processed them. Seungmin was there, wearing his usual unreadable scowl, and a man with dark hair stood beside Hyunjin, arms folded, the gleam of amusement in his eyes. Behind them all, a fourth figure lingered. He looked vaguely familiar, but Jeongin couldn’t quite place where he’d seen him before.

And gods, he felt horribly underdressed compared to them, all wearing expensive clothing. Designer clothing, sleek tailoring, crisp cuffs and shining buttons. Jeongin, with his graphic tee and cargo shorts, suddenly felt like a little kid who’d walked into a boardroom.

“Come in, come in,” Hyunjin beckoned with an easy smile, like this was some casual dinner party.

Jeongin, very much frozen to the floor, didn’t move. Not until the driver nudged him hard enough to jolt his body into motion.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled into the office. It wasn’t nearly as pristine as the rest of the mansion. Papers cluttered the large mahogany desk behind them, a laptop still open and glowing. A couple of jackets were slung lazily over the backs of the leather love seats along the wall. There was the faint scent of coffee in the air, something surprisingly… normal.

Still, every inch of Jeongin’s posture screamed stiff and uncomfortable. He could feel the eyes on him, amused and assessing. Swallowing down his nerves, he gave a shaky bow. “H-hello, Hwang-nim.”

Hyunjin waved a hand dismissively. “Please. Just call me Hyunjin. I hate the formality.”

“Right… sorry. Hyunjin-nim,” Jeongin corrected, voice a little too tight. “I was told you wanted to meet me?”

Hyunjin clapped his hands together once, sharp and cheerful. “Yes! I wanted to commend your work with tech, and extend a formal job offer.” His grin widened. “But before that, it’s only right to introduce you to your future coworkers, don’t you think?”

There was no room for argument; Jeongin could feel the command beneath the charm. Whether he wanted this or not didn’t matter; he was already in the lion’s den.

“S-sure,” he swallowed thickly.

Hyunjin gestured to the people around him. “You’ve met Jisung, whom you’ll be working closely with, and Seungmin. And the man next to you is Changbin-hyung. He’s more muscle than tech, but don’t let that fool you. He’s a sweetheart when he wants to be.”

Jeongin didn’t miss Jisung’s scoff behind him.

Hyunjin continued. “Now, over here–” He motioned to the man leaning coolly against the wall. “–is Minho-hyung.”

When Jeongin focused on the man, he realized he was the head detective of the police department. Fuck. The head of the entire precinct.

Minho gave him a lazy two-fingered wave, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips as Jeongin stared at him in horror. The smirk deepened slightly. He knew Jeongin recognized him and was clearly entertained by it.

How deep did this corruption go?

“And finally,” Hyunjin said, resting a hand lightly on the shoulder of the man beside him, “this is Bang Chan, my second-in-command. You’ll probably be reporting to him more than me. He keeps everything running smoothly when I’m... busy.”

Bang Chan gave him a warm smile and a small bow, surprisingly polite, compared to the rest. There was something calming in his presence, but Jeongin didn’t trust it. 

“Now then,” Hyunjin said briskly, already turning toward the door. “I’d love to chat more, but I’m afraid it’s getting late. I’d rather you get settled now so that you’re ready for tomorrow. If you need anything, I’ll be here in my office. Dinner will be brought to your room.”

With that, Minho, Jisung, and Seungmin left silently. Changbin gave him a grin before grabbing onto Jeongin’s shoulder and turning to slip out too.

Only Chan stayed behind, and when he turned his head to look at him, he found the man already watching him, with that same gentle look.

Changbin led him back through the mansion’s grand entrance, and this time, they started ascending a sweeping staircase that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. Every step felt heavier, the banister gleaming under the warm golden lights. When they reached the second floor, it was just as ridiculous as the first; floor-to-ceiling windows framed the corridor, with gauzy curtains that fluttered gently despite no breeze. The hallway stretched on and on, carpeted in deep burgundy and flanked with ornate sconces and carved wooden trim. It felt less like a home and more like a hotel.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a dark wooden door.

Changbin pulled it open without ceremony, stepping aside to let Jeongin enter.

The room was spacious and far more than he needed. A queen-sized bed dominated the center, with tall beams rising from each corner. The walls were a muted ivory, and sheer curtains draped over a massive window. Outside, he could see a beautifully kept garden and what looked like miles of empty, well-maintained land stretching into the horizon. It was hauntingly peaceful.

Two closed doors were set into the left wall; probably a bathroom and a closet. Across from the bed was a tall, built-in bookcase that stretched all the way to the ceiling, filled with books he didn’t recognize. Some looked ancient, others brand new. None had familiar titles. It was eerie how well-kept everything was, how pristine and untouched it felt.

“Rest up,” Changbin said from the doorway. “The servants will bring your dinner up soon.”

And then the door clicked shut.

A second click followed.

A lock.

Jeongin blinked, staring at the now-closed door. Only then did he notice the small sliding panel near the bottom, just large enough to pass a tray through.

Welp, he was really stuck now. He let out a low breath and wandered over to the desk by the window. He climbed onto the chair, then the desk itself, trying to open the window, but of course it didn’t open. Just clean, reinforced glass. The view was gorgeous, but the window might as well have been part of a painting.

He stepped back down with a thud, dropping his bag that was still on his back on the floor with a dull sound. He’s surprised they didn’t try to search him, but other than what was hidden in his sock, he had nothing worthy on him. He had already wiped his phone clean of anything that had to do with yonbok, so he wasn’t worried about that, either.

With no other ideas, he turned toward the bathroom.

He was going to have a heart attack from the amount of shock he went through today. The bathroom was sparkling, White marble tiles gleamed underfoot, polished to a shine. The bathtub was enormous – no, it was a fucking jacuzzi. It looked like it could fit a family of four with leg space. A luxury spa tucked away in a mob mansion. 

Jeongin half expected cherubs to descend from the ceiling.

The vanity was just as over-the-top: wide, with twin sinks and mirror lights that framed his tired face a little too honestly. Beneath the countertop were endless drawers, all neatly labeled and color-coded. He opened one full of unused toiletries. Another, fluffy white towels. Another, hair products and skincare bottles that probably cost more than his rent.

“This is the nicest prison room on earth,” he muttered under his breath.

Still, he was tempted. And exhausted.

And if they were going to hold him here like a prisoner, he might as well enjoy the perks.

He tugged the earpiece from the inside of his sock, fingertips brushing the tiny tracker still tucked next to it. That one, he shoved deep into a stack of perfectly folded towels inside the vanity drawer. There was no way he could risk keeping it on him. He had no doubt they’d planted cameras in the bedroom, maybe even a mic or two. But only a perverted lunatic would put one in the bathroom. He didn't get that vibe from Hyunjin, though, more of a lunatic who’d offer you wine and a gentle smile before blowing your brains out.

Just in case, he twisted the tub’s knobs, letting water tumble into the massive jacuzzi. The sound would allow him to have an alibi while also covering his voice. He slipped the earpiece in and pressed his index finger to it, praying to the lord above that the connection wouldn’t be blocked that badly.

“Felix hyung?” he whispered.

Static. Then–

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

The sound of Felix’s voice hit harder than expected. Jeongin hadn’t realized how tightly his shoulders were pulled until now. He could’ve slumped to the floor with the weight of it.

“I’m fine,” he breathed out. “The place is insane, though. Makes that mansion you stole from look like a dorm room.”

“Yeah, well,” Felix muttered, “that’s Mr. Hwang for you.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Jeongin said with a tired snort, trying to keep his voice low but steady. “Apparently, he hates being addressed by his last name.”

“Noted. Any idea what they want from you?”

“Not exactly. Hyunjin said he wants me to work in their tech department. Didn’t say what that actually means, though.” Jeongin sat on the edge of the tub, watching the water swirl higher. It was starting to look like a literal spa retreat. He hated how nice it was.

Felix cursed under his breath. “Just… be careful, okay? If anything feels off, anything—”

“I know,” he sighed, “They got me locked in the fanciest prison room I've ever seen. The bathroom in here is bigger than our entire apartment. No joke.”

“That what I’m hearing in the background?”

“Yeah. I’m about to soak in a goddamn jacuzzi, hyung. Jealous yet?”

“Language,” Felix scolded, but Jeongin could hear the thin smile in his voice.

“Shut up. I’m almost twenty-one.”

“So what? Respect your elders, Innie!”

“Whatever,” he grinned faintly, then lowered his voice again. “I gotta go now, tub’s full. I’ll talk to you when I get the chance, okay?”

Felix’s voice softened, quieter now. “Just.. be safe, I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt because of me.”

Jeongin stared at the steaming water, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will, don’t worry.” 

The line went dead, and the earpiece was stashed in a second drawer with trembling fingers. The bath was ready.

And just like that, Jeongin was alone again.

He turned off the water, steam curling through the air in thick, dreamy swirls. Stripping off his clothes, he tossed them into a corner and stepped into the tub. The heat hit him like a drug, and when he turned on the jets, heaven returned. The tension in his muscles bled out with every pulse of water against his back. For a second, just one, he forgot everything. 

He might’ve slipped under completely if it hadn’t been for the sudden knock on the bedroom door. It jolted him upright.

“Sir, your dinner,” a muffled voice called.

Shit. He reached for the fluffy white robe hanging on a hook, wrapping it tightly around himself as he drained the tub. The water sloshed loudly down the drain, echoing in the glossy white-tiled room. He padded barefoot to the door, the floor cold beneath his feet.

The small sliding door opened, and a tray appeared as if summoned by magic. Jeongin took it carefully, muttering a quiet “thank you” before carrying it to the desk.

He pulled the silver lid off, and immediately his mouth watered. The scent hit first: spicy, warm, nostalgic. Kimchi jigae. 

He sat down, steam still rising off his skin, and dug in. It was simple, but somehow rich, the broth perfectly balanced with chunks of tofu, pork, and sour kimchi that made his chest ache from how comforting it tasted.

“I could get used to prison food,” he mumbled to no one, scraping the bowl clean.

Belly full and limbs heavy, he dropped the empty tray on the floor and stumbled toward the bed. It was massive. Absurd, really. 

And the moment he collapsed onto the mattress, it swallowed him whole. The sheets were cool and soft, probably cost more than his laptop.

His eyes fluttered shut before he could even think of resisting. Sleep claimed him fast, and the mansion was quiet again.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Hyunjin leaned against the cold metal edge of the table, arms crossed, eyes locked on the wide monitor mounted to the wall. The camera feed was crisp; of course, it was. Jisung had built the system from scratch. It showed Jeongin, freshly showered and wrapped in one of the guest robes, as he padded barefoot across the plush carpet to receive his food.

Everyone, except Chan, who stayed behind to work on planning the auction, was packed into the server room.

“He’s skinny,” Changbin noted from the leather couch behind him, one leg slung over the other. “Thought he’d be taller, honestly.”

“His file says he’s nineteen,” Seungmin added, seated beside him, arms draped over the back of the couch, looking like a bored puppy. “Well, twenty now. Still has the baby face of a high schooler. Orphan, too.”

Minho, standing silently by the server stack with his usual unreadable expression, sipped something from a metal thermos. “He didn’t hesitate to come with, did he? That’s either guts or stupidity.”

“Or both,” Jisung chimed in from his desk, fingers flying across his mechanical keyboard, updating Jeongin’s access logs and surveillance zones. “He definitely stalled back at the shop, possibly calling someone. I’m combing through wireless signals right now to see if he pinged anyone.”

“I’m telling you,” Changbin said, tapping his temple, “He was about to bolt. Kid looked like he was thinking through five escape routes the second we told him to get in the car.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything yet. He just watched.

The screen showed Jeongin at the desk now, eating like he hadn’t had a hot meal in days. His shoulders were still tense, though. Every few bites, his eyes flicked toward the window, or the camera he probably couldn’t see, but suspected. Smart boy.

Jisung hummed. “He didn’t flinch in the car when I prodded him, either. Kept his story straight, didn’t try too hard.”

“Meaning what?” Seungmin asked.

“Meaning I don’t think this is his first time being caught in shit like this.”

Hyunjin finally straightened up, eyes still on the screen. Jeongin had just finished eating and dropped face-first into the bed, utterly exhausted.

“…He’s too calm,” Hyunjin said, finally. “I expected begging, or at least panic. But he doesn’t seem to mind being trapped here.”

“Maybe he doesn’t realize who you are,” Jisung offered with a smirk.

Hyunjin raised a brow. “You all saw how he reacted when he saw me earlier.”

That made everyone go quiet for a beat.

“Yeah, alright,” Seungmin muttered. “That’s a little weird.”

“But he’s still here,” Changbin said. “And if he wanted to run, he had a chance. I didn’t lock the window.”

“You didn’t–” Hyunjin turned slightly, giving him a look.

“I knew it didn’t open,” Changbin grinned. “Relax.”

“Asshole.”

Minho chuckled quietly.

Hyunjin turned back toward the screen again, watching as Jeongin shifted under the sheets. Even in sleep, the kid’s brows were drawn together, like he was waiting for something bad.

“I want to know who he called, if he did,” Hyunjin said finally. “And what he said.”

“I’ll get it,” Jisung assured him, pulling up a wave graph. “Give me a few hours.”

“Don’t give him too much leash,” Seungmin added, “but don’t tighten the chain either. See what he does when he thinks no one’s watching.”

Hyunjin nodded slowly.

“Let’s see if the tech whiz turns into something useful,” he murmured. “Or if he’s just another liability with good cheekbones.”

“Pretty and dangerous,” Jisung muttered under his breath. “You’ve got a type.”

Hyunjin didn’t rise to the bait, just smiled.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix was still freaking out.

The call with Jeongin had calmed him for all of ten minutes, just long enough to confirm the kid was alive, sarcastic, and smart enough to use the bathroom as a cover. But the second that call cut off, leaving only white noise and silence in its place, the dread came crashing back.

He’d bitten the inside of his cheek raw. His fingers jittered over the keyboard, trying to plot a clean point of entry into the auction house systems. But everything he ran into had more security than the last. Firewalls that bit back, traces that looped and reset mid-run. He had never been as good as Jeongin with computers, only using them to play video games. But the deadline for the auction was getting closer by the second, and if he didn’t come up with something–

An idea hit him. A stupid, dangerous, terrible idea.

He grabbed his phone and dialed. Once, twice. Three times. and then—

Click.

“Yesss, Bokkie~” came that unmistakable voice.

G.D.'s voice was syrupy, laced with that lazy, delighted purr that made Felix’s skin crawl. He could practically hear the man grinning. It was 2:37 in the morning, G.D. sounded wide awake, like he always did. Felix wasn’t entirely sure the man even slept. He answered every call like he’d been waiting for it.

Felix swallowed the sour taste in his mouth.

“G.D. hyung,” Felix forced the words out. The word hyung nearly choked him, but skipping it wasn’t an option with someone like G.D.

There was a pause. He could practically see the smile stretched in that silence.

“That's better,” G.D. purred, pleased. “What can I do for my favorite little thief?”

“I was wondering,” Felix said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice, “Is there… any chance you can get me on the guest list for the auction?”

Another pause.

Then a low, delighted laugh. “Straight to business. I’m heartbroken.”

“I’m serious.”

“Of course you are.” There was the sound of a lighter flicking. A slow drag. “Mmm. Couldn’t be too hard, but unless you want a bullet between the eyes, maybe showing up as Yonbok isn’t your brightest idea, sweetheart.”

“I know,” Felix muttered, jaw tight. “Put it under Kim Felix.”

“That’s an English name, isn’t it? Why the switch in language?

“Because I could be a foreign buyer, and no one would be wiser.”

That drew a surprised chuckle.

“Aren’t you clever?” he cooed. “You know, I forget sometimes how smart you are. All those curls and pouty lips draw the attention away from that big brain of yours. That’s what I love about you.”

Felix stayed silent, stomach twisting.

“I’ll get the ID made,” G.D. continued casually, “but you might want to do something about your hair, pet. The blonde’s pretty, but it’s practically glowing in the dark. Makes you look like a little fairy. Wouldn’t want our enemies snatching you up before I get to see you again.”

Felix reached up automatically, grabbing a lock between his fingers. The soft gold caught the glow of the monitor. Shit. G.D. was right; his looks were far too recognizable. Too bright, too noticeable. Too… him. He really didn’t want to dye it, but he didn’t have much choice.

“Yeah. I’ll fix it,” he muttered.

“Good boy. And once you’re all dolled up, send me a picture.” G.D.’s voice dipped low, amused and half-feral. “Sweet dreams, Bokkie. Don’t disappoint me.”

The call clicked off before Felix could respond.

He sat there for a second, blinking at the dark screen. Then he slowly set the phone down, palms sweaty. He exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Felix continued to look through the files, going over the floor plans. He had a way in, now he needs a way out. It’d be too stupid to wing it like he usually did, so he had to be smart and actually work through it.

Felix leaned forward, eyes locked on the blueprints glowing from his monitor. The faint hum of the computers was the only sound in the shop, save for the occasional creak of wood or the wind brushing against the alley outside. The apartment was dark, lit only by the harsh blue light of the screens, and that suited him fine. Darkness helped him think.

The vault was deep underground, accessible only via a secured staff elevator. He’d traced the wiring, followed the elevator's route, and confirmed that it stopped nowhere else but the basement and the private upper floor. Luckily, once he was down there,  getting to the vault would be simple. Not easy, but pretty straightforward. A single, heavy door reinforced with steel and locked with dual biometric security--thumbprint and retinal scan. High-end, elite-grade bullshit.

Felix exhaled slowly, pushing his sweaty bangs off his face. 

Most of the basement-level staff had biometric clearance. That meant he didn’t need a specific person, just a person. Long enough to scan them in, anyway. Or, worst-case scenario, keep a piece of them. He didn’t like violence, but he wasn’t above it either. If it came to slicing off a thumb or gouging an eye, he’d do it with zero regrets.

He continued scrolling down the map, shifting focus.

Then he saw it. A janitor’s closet, buried at the far end of the basement hallway. It was barely the size of a crawlspace, but at the top of the wall, set high and narrow, was a small window that led outside. He looked everywhere else, but that seemed to be his way out.

He made a face, leaning back in his chair. It would be an uncomfortably tight squeeze. He was glad the loot G.D. asked for would be easy to haul, but carrying anything would be difficult while trying to fit through a hole barely bigger than his shoulders. But he could make it work.

The biometric locks, though… everything in the basement required them. Meaning if he did take a finger, he’d need to carry it the entire time. He wrinkled his nose. Gross.

 But now that he had an actual plan put together, he needs to get everything else ready for it.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix found himself in Itaewon, a plastic bag filled with hair dye in his hand as he entered a random expensive suit shop. He didn’t know the dress code, but he assumed any nice suit would do.

The shop's entrance was intimidating: floor-to-ceiling glass, gold lettering etched into the windows, mannequins styled in designer silk and tailored wool, each looking more expensive than his entire apartment. He hesitated only briefly before pushing the door open, the bell above giving a soft, melodic chime.

Inside, it smelled like polished wood and money. Warm lighting spilled from antique chandeliers, gleaming off crystal mirrors and racks of meticulously arranged suits. The silence that followed his entrance was instant and suffocating.

Two store attendants, both dressed sharply in matching black vests, looked up from the counter. Their smiles faltered the moment their eyes landed on him.

Felix felt the judgment radiating off of them. He wore a simple black hoodie. Not dirty, just… lived-in, with scuffed sneakers, a little rainwater at the hem of his jeans. The plastic bag with drugstore dye in his hand didn’t help. He might as well have walked in with a flashing sign that said “poor.” He didn't think to dress up, but now he kind of regretted it.

“Can I help you?” one of them asked, tone brittle.

“I need a suit,” Felix replied simply.

“For yourself?” the other one asked, as if the concept was offensive.

Felix blinked. “Yes. Obviously.”

The attendants exchanged a look.

“Our pieces start at two million won,” one of them said. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable elsewhere.”

There it was.

Felix smiled tightly, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. He let out a huff of air through his nose, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck, the same frustration that came with being underestimated. Just once, he wanted to walk into a place and not be treated like street trash. It shouldn’t matter what he was wearing; he was still a human being. It wasn’t fair.

He reached into his hoodie and pulled out a black card, courtesy of G.D. The attendants’ faces shifted instantly from dismissal to panic, then to eagerness. He was gonna have fun with them trying to lick his shitty shoes.

“I think I’ll manage,” Felix said, voice colder now. “Or should I take my money to your competition across the street?”

“Ah– uh, no, sir, of course,” the first man stammered. “Right this way. My apologies for the… misunderstanding.”

Felix followed them through the showroom, biting his tongue until it hurt.

They led him into a private fitting room, plush and lined with velvet. A third attendant was called in, a tailor, who wordlessly pulled out measuring tape and started wrapping it around Felix’s limbs. The process was quick and clinical, and despite the sudden shift in tone, Felix could still make out the fake courtesy they showed him.

“You’ll want something classic,” the tailor said. “Black tie, single-breasted, clean lines. But we can play with texture… perhaps silk lapels?”

“I just need something expensive, I’m not walking a runway.” Felix muttered.

“Understood,” the tailor nodded. “We’ll keep it understated, then, a timeless feeling to it.”

“Perfect.”

If it wasn’t too fancy, he could use it again in the future. That’s if he lived, of course, but whatever.

The fabric they laid over him felt like water; soft, cold, and impossibly light. The pants were tailored immediately, pinned and marked in silence. The blazer was tight around his shoulders and hugged his waist perfectly after only a few minutes of adjustment. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as they worked, half dressed, and arms out like a scarecrow. He looked sharp. He also looked like someone who belonged. That thought disturbed him more than it should have.

When they finished, the suit was a work of art. Felix ran his fingers down the lapels, letting the silence settle. It was a nice navy, a version of his favorite color. The slacks were the same shade, and they fit snugly around his thighs. The tailor got one of the attendants to bring in a pair of shoes that accented everything well.

“Would you like it bagged, sir?” the first attendant asked, still eager to make up for their earlier mistake.

“Yes, please.” Felix waved a hand, not looking their way. He was usually more respectful to workers, but they started it. Only fair if he treated them the same.

And as he left the store, plastic bag still in hand, now paired with a suit that cost more than some cars, he let himself feel just a little smug. If they only respected wealth, he could play at that game.

The air outside was cooler now, dusk bleeding into full darkness, the streetlights buzzing to life one by one. He blended into the crowd easily. The plastic bag of dye still swung at his side, but now that he had an actual decent suit, he had no qualms about passing off at the auction. But something was missing.

A man in a suit without a watch looked incomplete, in his humble opinion, and Felix needed every detail to be perfect.

His eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and unassuming. Itaewon was crawling with men who liked to flash money they didn’t earn. It didn’t take long to find one.

A businessman, mid-forties, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, and a briefcase in one hand, his other wrist flicking every so often to check the time. His suit was tailored but old-money – conservative, he settled on. The watch was chunky and gold, and definitely real. Rolex, probably. Over the years of working for G.D., he learned a few things. It gleamed under the lights with the arrogance of someone who never had to worry about getting robbed. A rookie mistake. But the man didn’t have to worry, Felix would make sure he learned.

He quickened his pace, matching the man’s stride from behind. He waited for the crowd to thicken near the crosswalk, and waited for the man’s hand to drop, distracted by the phone call.

One second. That’s all he needed. His fingers slipped under the cuff and unclasped the watch in one smooth motion. He palmed it and quickly slipped it into his hoodie, pulling out his phone just in case, not even breaking stride. The man didn’t notice a thing.

By the time the businessman made it across the street, Felix was already ducking into a side alley, checking his prize under the dim flicker of a neon noodle sign.

He was right, it was a Rolex. Day-Date, real gold. Just what he needed.

God, it felt good stealing for himself for once, no planning required. He desperately wished he had left G.D. when he had the chance, but he was blinded by greed and the man’s insistence on family. And he really did feel a part of the family, up until last week. But he had no freedom, no reign. Christ, he wouldn’t have been free even if he left. G.D. didn’t like not having what he thought was rightfully his, and Felix fit into that category. Maybe he should take a trip back to Australia. He shook the thought off and slid the watch into his jeans. 

No one who looked at him in two days would dare question his place in an auction house lobby, or anywhere else for that matter. He didn’t smile, but he allowed himself a breath of satisfaction as he turned the corner and spotted the discreet wooden sign swinging above the narrow entrance of Charyeok Tea & Imports. The shop barely stood out from the street, nestled between clubs and food stands, but that was the point, or so he was told. A neutral ground, cozy and forgettable to the untrained eye.

Felix ducked inside, a bell chiming overhead. He pulled his hood down further and rolled his shoulders back, smirking. Now it was time to make a deal.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The shop was completely empty, not even the owner out front, but the OPEN sign was still on display. The air inside smelled faintly of jasmine incense and the tiniest hint of tea, and overhead, soft amber lighting cast long shadows along the walls. He sat down at a booth, placing his bags down beside him and pulling the watch out of his pocket as he waited.

Seeing it was almost nostalgic. It wasn’t the same one G.D. had, his much more expensive, but regardless, this would’ve made younger Felix’s jaw drop.

He stared at it, letting his thumb swipe over the glass.

He missed being that reckless kid who didn’t know better. He missed being a dumb teenager taking care of his maknae, and was allowed to steal what he wanted when he wanted to. A lot changed, though some stayed the same. He was still the same kleptomaniac he was before, with good instincts and fast hands. But now, everything cost something. Most of the time, it’d cost your life.

He spaced out while staring at the watch, snapping out of it when a man stood in front of him. He’d never been here before, but he had a gut feeling it was Woojin. The man was wearing a normal outfit, just a plain black shirt, faded jeans, and boots that had seen better days. Nothing about it screamed shop owner, but there was something about the way he stood that told Felix everything he needed to know.

When they made eye contact, the man’s eyes grew wide, and Felix let a lazy smirk tug at his lips, tucking the watch away with practiced ease. He still had a knife tucked into the back waistband of his jeans, not that he expected to use it, but caution was a habit now. When his life wasn’t in immediate danger, however, he liked being recognized. He felt like a fucked up celebrity sometimes.

“Woojin, I presume?” he asked, rising to his feet.

The man was a couple inches taller than him, broader in the shoulders too. His face reminded Felix of a bear. Chestnut brown hair fell just above his ears, slightly tousled. At first glance, nothing about him really stood out, but then Felix noticed there was a scar that was long and pale, snaking from the underside of his jaw all the way towards his collarbone.

The man simply nodded, then turned towards the narrow hallway behind the counter. Felix followed, his footsteps soundless against the faded wood. The shop reminded him of the tech shop in a way, except this place wasn't cluttered with old wires or half-fixed circuit boards. Instead, it was quite neat, the yellow walls matching the warm lights overhead. 

When they stepped into the back room, though, it did a complete 180. The walls turned from drywall to exposed gray stone, the overhead lights faint. Two beat-up couches sat across from each other, sagging under their own weight. There was an old wooden table between them littered with half-crushed cans of soju and an ashtray full of old butts. This felt more realistic to Felix.

He sank into one of the old couches, the cushions groaning beneath him. They smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and dust, and Felix craved the taste of those damn cancer sticks. He hadn’t smoked in a while, but he needed his lungs if he was going to run as much as he did for jobs.

Woojin, silent as ever, moved to the corner and opened the humming mini fridge. The soft clink of glass against glass was the only sound in the room for a moment before he pulled out two cans of soju. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed one to Felix. The younger man caught it with ease, glancing at the label. No name brand, just cheap convenience store stuff. He cracked it open anyway, figuring it was a peace offering.

Woojin dropped himself into the opposite couch, arms spread lazily across the top. He took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact.

“So, yonbok,” he drawls, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiled and took a sip of his drink, letting the alcohol burn a bit before answering. At least he didn’t have to explain who he was.

“Heard you know a lot of things about a lot of people,” Felix said simply, “And I need to know some of those things.”

Woojin snorted, tipping his can slightly in mock salute. “That I do. But you should also know I don’t give it out for free. That being said, what are you offering in return?”

Felix tilted his head, expression unreadable. “Well, how much do you know about me?”

“Next to nothing,” Woojin replied with a dry chuckle. “That’s what makes you interesting. It’s rare these days to find a ghost, especially with someone who's been in the business for as long as you have.”

Felix’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So how about this?” he said, setting his can down on the cluttered table between them with a soft thunk. Then he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands loosely clasped. “I answer your questions – within reason – and you answer mine. Though I should warn you, anything you get from me stays in this room.”

Woojin’s gaze sharpened a fraction, weighing the risks. Then, slowly, a grin curled across his face. Felix knew the man wouldn’t refuse; people like him are too curious for their own good. He was like that, too, in a sense.

“Deal,” he said.

Felix extended a hand, and Woojin clasped it without hesitation. His grip was firm, Felix noted. Their hands parted, and the deal was struck.

“So,” Woojin said, relaxing back into his seat again, “let’s start small. Who are you trying to find?”

Felix leaned back, the ghost of a smirk returning to his lips as he picked up the can again.

“STRAY.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty on them,” Woojin said smoothly, “But let’s start with you. Who do you work for?”

Felix didn’t hesitate. “I’m BANG’s personal thief,” he said, letting it sink in for a moment. “And I’ve got all day.”

Woojin’s lips twitched. “Good. Then let’s get into it.”

He cracked his knuckles absently, then began reciting names with what Felix detected as familiarity, but something bitter behind it. Interesting. “You already know about Hyunjin. Most do, at least. He’s the one people see. But STRAY runs deeper than a pretty face. Six of them, currently. Though…” he paused, watching Felix closely, “word is, they’re about to make it seven.”

Felix stiffened before he could stop himself. It was a split-second thing; a twitch of his eye, a tiny shift in posture, but Woojin caught it, and they both knew it.

He hadn’t heard from Jeongin all day. The silence buzzed louder than ever in his ear, where the hidden earpiece remained tucked beneath the fall of his hair. Did word really spread around that fast?

“Bang Chan,” Woojin continued, voice low and calm, “is Hyunjin’s second-in-command. Loyal to the core. Minho is their inside man, the head detective in the police department. There’s Changbin, personal bodyguard and head of security. Jisung, who handles security and tech. You’ve seen his work, I assume.” He took another sip from his can, eyes glinting. “And finally, Seungmin, their lawyer with a spotless record and dirt on every judge in Seoul. ”

Woojin let that settle for a beat, then raised an eyebrow. “Now, that’s a decent bit of info. I think that earns me something bigger, yeah?”

Felix’s gaze narrowed, wary. “Such as?”

“Who was your getaway driver?”

The air between them thickened. He should’ve known he would know about that, considering he already had information on the “seventh” member in a day.

Woojin tilted his head, clearly enjoying the rare win. “Touchy subject?” he asked again, though his tone didn’t sharpen. It stayed infuriatingly calm. Polite, even, like they were chatting about the weather and not about someone Felix would kill to protect.

Felix didn’t answer. He ran a thumb along the edge of the can, the faint sound of aluminum crinkling under pressure. His jaw clenched, something dark flickering behind his eyes. “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Woojin huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “Cute. I didn’t think you’d actually tell me, but you’re smart, so you probably know I already have my suspicions.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees now, mirroring the way Felix had sat earlier. 

“You know what I think?” Woojin asked softly. “I think it’s I.N.”

Felix’s grip on the can tightened.

“Yonbok ‘never’ works with anyone,” Woojin continued. “But then, suddenly, there’s this kid; shows up the same nights you do, vanishes just as fast. And the name is only ever heard from your mouth.“ 

Felix smiled, something sharp and thin and dead in the eyes. “That’s a nice story, Woojin. You should sell it to someone who cares.”

Woojin’s grin widened just slightly. “You care. That’s the problem.”

The room was quiet for a moment, the buzz of the fridge in the corner suddenly too loud.

“…Fine,” Felix finally said, albeit reluctantly. “He’s just a kid. Quick, smart. That’s all you get.”

Woojin gave a satisfied hum, leaning back again with a lazy stretch. “That’ll do, for now. Your turn.”

“Anything you want to share, I'm all ears.” Felix leaned back into the seat.

“Alright, well, STRAY are already hot on your tail. Minho, the detective I mentioned, came in here a couple of days ago asking about you.”

“And what did you tell him?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“Basics,” Woojin replied with a shrug. “Your age, mafia-affiliated, how long you’ve been in the business. You know, useless stuff.”

Felix let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I also mentioned my theory about I.N. being the driver.”

His breath caught again.

Woojin smirked, raising his can. “Relax. I said theory. I only gave him speculation.”

Felix exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to collect himself.

“My turn,” Woojin said, setting his can down and leaning forward again. “Been wondering for a while… why aren’t you anywhere in the system? No fingerprints, no birth records. No anything.” 

Felix’s mouth twitched, just a hint of amusement breaking through the tension. “Did you really think Yonbok was my real name?”

Woojin huffed. “No. But I figured there’d be something.”

Felix shrugged, nonchalant. “That’s the point. I made sure there’s not. But I’m also a foreigner.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well,” Felix said, clapping his hands lightly against his knees as he stood, the soft thud echoing in the quiet lounge, “I think that’s all I need for now. But if you ever wanna trade stories again, let me know.”

He grabbed his plastic bag and stuffed the watch back into his pocket, slinging his hoodie’s hood back over his head.

Woojin raised his can in a lazy toast. “Pleasure meeting you. Hope to hear from you again soon, if you're alive.”

Felix smirked, only looking back once as he walked towards the exit. “Likewise.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix made it back to the tech shop just before a storm rolled in, harsh wind slapping the door shut behind him. He locked it, tugging the blinds shut for good measure, before making his way toward his apartment and into the small bathroom in the back.

He tossed the plastic bag onto the sink counter, pulling out the box of drugstore dye. It was a brownish Black, the only color that wouldn’t draw any more attention to him than how long it was. The platinum-blonde had been a statement, unapologetic and a little reckless. But now he needed to disappear.

He peeled off his hoodie and shirt, eyes catching on the faint scabbing just above his eyebrow in the mirror, a quiet reminder of how quickly his life went to hell. He should’ve listened to Jeongin, because if he had, he’d never be in this situation. He ran the water, checked the temperature, and ripped the dye box open. Gloves on, no hesitation.

The smell hit first, chemical and sterile, as he mixed the solution and started working it through his hair, watching the pale blonde disappear in inky waves. The person staring back at him in the mirror was slowly transforming. His face, still sharp and boyish, now looked colder, framed in black. Less Felix, less Yonbok. 

The dye stained his scalp and fingertips despite the gloves, and he let out a soft curse under his breath as a bead of it dripped down the side of his face. Still, he kept going, coating every strand. Thirty minutes later, after rinsing and toweling off, he looked at himself again.

It was strange. He looked… older. He hadn’t had his natural hair color since he was 14, so it felt almost foreign to him. He felt like he was a natural blonde, and now it was gone. God, if he makes it out of this, his hair is definitely becoming more fried, because he already misses the light locks. Felix blinked once, then reached for his phone, snapping a picture. Now, G.D. could make the ID.

Then he shut the mirror and walked out without looking back.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin woke up in silk sheets and silence.

For a moment, he forgot where he was, his body sinking into a mattress so soft it almost felt like a trap. The room around him was dim, lit only by the faint morning light bleeding through gauzy curtains. Not a single sound. No traffic, no electronics humming. Just stillness.

Then it hit him.

The mansion.

He sat up too quickly and groaned, rubbing the side of his neck. His muscles were still sore from the night before, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the stress or the spa tub. Maybe both.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up slowly. A set of clothes had been laid out on a bench at the end of the bed: a dark, high-collared dress shirt, slacks, and sleek black shoes. Nothing flashy, just formal. On his desk was a tray, which he assumed was his breakfast.

Jeongin ran a hand through his hair. Someone must’ve come in while he was sleeping. He didn’t love that.

He got dressed quickly, buttoning the shirt up with careful fingers. The material was soft and expensive. It fit him perfectly, and he wondered how they had gotten his measurements. He would’ve remembered someone wrapping a tape around his chest while he slept. Right?

His gaze shifted to the bench where the clothes had been neatly folded, and he immediately noticed the clothes he had come in with were missing.

 “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. that was his favorite outfit too. 

Along with his clothes, his bag he had brought, was also gone. They must’ve searched it. Thank god he didn’t bring anything incriminating with him–

 His stomach dropped.

The tracker and earpiece. 

He fought to keep his expression calm, forcing a blank look onto his face. If he was being watched, and he had no doubt he was, they couldn’t know he was panicking.

As calmly as he could, he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him with a soft click. The moment he was out of sight, he dropped to his knees and yanked open the towel drawer.

He exhaled a long, quiet breath of relief.

They sat exactly where they had been last night, untouched. But they wouldn’t be safe for long. He needed somewhere else to hide them, because if they were going through his things while he slept, they’d find this in no time. He pried open the vanity cabinet beneath the sink, reaching toward the top and sticking the tracker against the underside, where it wouldn’t be visible unless someone got a flashlight and craned their neck. He closed it just as quickly, making sure it didn’t slam.

He hesitated, then slipped the earpiece into his left shoe. It would press against his heel and probably be gross by the end of the day, but at least it wouldn’t be found. He could suffer through a blister or two if it meant his only way to talk to Felix wasn’t compromised. 

Once everything was hidden, he stood up, adjusted the towels to look untouched, and turned on the sink, a few splashes of cold water helping to calm his nerves. Then he reached for the toothbrush laid out neatly beside the faucet.

As he brushed his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror. He was practically unrecognizable from the boy who used to steal phone chargers from convenience stores just for fun. 

Everything about this felt so wrong.

After composing himself in the mirror, Jeongin stepped back into the bedroom, his footsteps light against the floor. The breakfast tray was still where he’d left it, perched neatly on the small desk by the window, steam curling gently from beneath the silver lid. He paused, gave a quiet, awkward thanks to no one in particular, and sat down.

When he lifted the lid, his stomach answered for him with a loud, undeniable growl.

It was a simple meal: two golden hotteok glistening with syrupy filling, and a pair of tightly rolled egg rolls, still warm. Modest, but so fucking delicious. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that first bite. The hotteok nearly melted in his mouth. It was soft, warm, and had just the right amount of sweetness to it. The egg rolls followed, crisp on the outside with savory fillings that made his eyes flutter shut for just a second. It might’ve been the best thing he’d ever tasted. He couldn’t help the way he stuffed everything into his mouth, taking huge bites. When he finished, he wiped his hands on the napkin and gently placed the tray back beside the door, careful to make it look undisturbed.

And then, he waited.

He sat back on the edge of the bed, fingers twitching in his lap, the earpiece pressing faintly against his heel in his shoe. His eyes drifted to the door, the tray, then to the window.

They kept mentioning “tomorrow” last night, and he had to admit, he was more than a little nervous.

Jeongin swallowed. Whatever tomorrow meant, it was today now.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Everyone was stuffed into the surveillance room again, including Chan this time. The live feed showed the strange boy sitting cross-legged at the desk, a tray of food in front of him. He gave a quick, quiet thanks to no one before he picked up the hotteok with his chopsticks and quite literally shoved the entire pancake into his mouth. It was cute, but so odd.

Hyunjin blinked.

“…Is he starving?” he asked, genuinely amused as he tilted his head at the screen.

Jisung, never one to let a question go unanswered, rolled his chair forward. “Checking his financials.”

“Wait– what?” Changbin snorted. “You can just–?”

“He walked in here without credentials,” Jisung replied as his fingers clattered over the keyboard. “If we’re letting someone like that sleep under our roof, I’m digging.”

It only took a few seconds. Lines of code blinked past the screen before Jisung brought up the results. A bank account popped up. Name: Yang Jeongin.

Then everyone went quiet.

The number in the savings field made even Seungmin’s eyes widen.

“…That can’t be right,” Changbin muttered, leaning in.

812,000,000 won sat idly in the account. It was nowhere near the amount Hyunjin and the rest had, but it was still insane for someone like Jeongin.

“Now, do you guys believe me that there’s something up with this kid?” Jisung’s voice pitched up, eyes wild as he scrolled through the history. “He’s a fucking orphaned college student working at a failing tech shop, how the hell would he have this type of money?”

No one answered right away.

The feed still showed Jeongin in the guest room, wiping syrup from his mouth like nothing was wrong, like he didn’t have nearly a billion won collecting dust in his bank account.

Jisung kept going, fingers dancing over the keyboard as he brought up the transaction log. “No drugs, no weapons, no sketchy sites; he’s clean. Like weirdly clean. He only spends on parts for the shop, computer hardware, and tuition payments.”

“Can you track where the money came from?” Minho asked, his voice calm but sharp with intent. He was standing behind Jisung now, hands braced on the back of his desk chair.

Jisung didn’t answer right away. He was already typing, windows overlapping as lines of code flickered across the screen.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, brow furrowed. “Whoever set this up didn’t want it traced. The money’s clean on the surface, but that’s exactly what makes it weird. College kids don’t have sponsors.”

“Maybe he inherited it?” Changbin offered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“No inheritance records,” Jisung shot back, not even looking up. “No wills. He’s an orphan, remember? His parents died in a car accident when he was twelve. It was ruled clean, no money left behind.”

Chan glanced at Hyunjin, whose arms were crossed tightly now, a crease between his brows. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That someone’s been funding him,” Hyunjin said. “Quietly. And not just anyone, but someone who knows how to stay off the radar.”

Minho leaned in a little further. “Can you crack it?”

Jisung’s fingers paused for a breath before diving back into the keys.

“…Give me an hour.”

“Changbin, take him to the living room. We’ll be there shortly.” Hyunjin waved his hand, still looking at the screen where the boy sat at the edge of the bed, fingers twitching idly.

Changbin groaned under his breath, already turning toward the door. “Why is it always me playing errand boy?”

“Because he’s seen you before and he needs a friendly face,” Hyunjin said, voice casual. “And Jisung’s elbow-deep in code right now.”

Changbin paused, hand on the doorframe. “Anything specific I’m supposed to say to him?”

Hyunjin finally glanced over, eyes sharp. “Yeah– don’t mention the account. Or any of what we just found.”

Changbin raised a brow. “You don’t think he deserves to know we’re breathing down his neck?”

“We still need him for the auction house,” Hyunjin said smoothly. “If he thinks we're onto him, he might be… difficult.”

There was a beat of silence before Changbin shrugged and walked out. “Fine. But if he freaks out, I’m knocking him flat on his ass.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked back to the screen. “Only if he tries to bolt.”

As it clicked shut behind him, Hyunjin finally leaned back in his chair, exchanging a glance with Chan.

“You think he knows we’re watching?”

Chan hummed thoughtfully. “If he does, he’s playing it cool. But if he’s hiding eight hundred mil like it’s pocket change, he’s not just some street rat who got lucky.”

Minho finally let go of the chair, straightening up with a sigh. “Then we don’t spook him. Not yet, at least. We keep him close. Find out who he’s working with.”

“And if he isn’t working with anyone?” Jisung asked, without looking away from the lines of code scrolling by.

Hyunjin’s voice was calm, but cold. “Then we figure out what he’s hiding. Everyone has something.” He turned slightly, eyeing the feed again. “And if he doesn’t… We’ll just have to make him ours.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Changbin’s footsteps echoed dully against the polished floors as he made his way down the hallway, still annoyed. Of course, it had to be him. It was always him, dragging people around, playing babysitter, or worse, muscle-for-hire. He wasn’t exactly opposed to rough work, but babysitting kids? That wasn’t in the job description.

He adjusted his black jacket as he reached the door to Jeongin’s room, pausing for a moment with his hand on the knob. Through the door, he could faintly hear movement, maybe pacing. Whatever the kid was doing, he didn’t sound calm. Great.

“Friendly face,” Changbin muttered to himself, deadpan. “Right.”

He opened the door slowly, not barging in, but not exactly gently either. Jeongin looked up from the bed, a flicker of something crossing his face– surprise, maybe?

“Morning, sunshine,” Changbin said, voice flat as ever. “You’re wanted.”

Jeongin blinked at him, brows drawing together. “By who?”

“Hyunjin,” Changbin replied. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “And no, I don’t know why. I’m just the errand boy, apparently.” he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice at that. 

The younger boy didn’t move right away, just stared for a second too long. There was something twitchy about him. Changbin narrowed his eyes slightly but kept his expression neutral. He didn’t trust him, not one bit. But it’s okay, because he knows the feeling’s mutual.

“You good?” he asked, a little more serious now. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Jeongin said quickly, standing up and brushing invisible dust from his pants. “Just wasn’t expecting company.”

“Get used to that,” Changbin muttered, stepping aside so Jeongin could walk out. He gave the kid one last look as he closed the door behind them.

He didn’t like how jumpy he was acting. And he really didn’t like that he suddenly had 812 million won in his account.

Hyunjin had said not to confront him yet, but if this kid so much as twitched wrong, Changbin was ready, friendly face or not.

As they made their way down the hall, Jeongin stayed a step behind Changbin, his hands tucked into his pockets, head slightly lowered. It felt purposeful, like he was trying to go unnoticed even though all eyes were on him. He had seen the same thing with low-life alleyway punks, and once with a killer. This kid was creeping him out.

“You settle in okay?” Changbin asked without looking back.

Jeongin let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “As much as you can in a place where you wake up with all of your things missing.”

Changbin smirked. At least the kid wasn’t dumb. “Yeah, about that. Security does sweeps. Standard stuff. Nothing personal.”

“Sure,” Jeongin said, and the edge in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

Changbin glanced over his shoulder briefly, his voice casual. “You hiding something?”

Jeongin met his eyes without hesitation. “Should I be?”

They stared at each other for a beat. Changbin grunted in response, turning back around.

“Just keep your head down and follow the rules,” he muttered. “You do your job, nobody bothers you.”

“And if I don’t?” Jeongin asked.

Changbin didn’t answer right away. He stopped outside the wooden doors that led to the living room and finally turned to face the kid. “Don’t test how far that question goes.”

Jeongin didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked almost amused.

Changbin pushed the wooden doors open, them groaning in weight. “Inside,” he said.

Jeongin stepped through without hesitation.

The room was as imposing as ever. Hyunjin stood near the center, arms crossed, flanked closely by Minho and Seungmin. Bang Chan was seated behind them, casually scrolling through something on his phone, but he looked up the moment they entered. Jisung was nowhere to be found, presumably still trying to track how Jeongin got his hands on that kind of money.

Jeongin didn’t speak. He glanced at each of them with careful precision, then offered a deep bow. He didn’t even look around the room this time.

He was calm, a contrast to what they had seen on the cameras. A damn good actor, and Changbin hated it. He had a feeling the others felt the same way.

Hyunjin stepped forward with one of his signature smiles, “Nice to see you again, Jeongin. I trust you settled in without issue?”

“Yes, Hyunjin-nim,” Jeongin replied smoothly. “Though I would appreciate having my belongings returned.”

This kid is such a suck up, changbin thought, but kept it to himself. This was nothing like who he met at the shop, and honestly, he wants that version back. He caught a glimpse in the hallway, though, and that defiance was still there, simmering beneath the surface. He was just smart enough to hide it in front of Hyunjin, because one wrong move and he’d be buried in a ditch somewhere.

Hyunjin chuckled lightly, “Of course. They should be returned to your room shortly, but they have to be checked thoroughly before then. Standard procedure, I’m sure you understand.”

“I do,” Jeongin replied. “May I ask why I’ve been brought here, then?”

Hyunjin gestured casually, as if they were discussing lunch plans and not recruitment into a criminal operation. “We told you there’s a job, didn’t we? I figured it’s only fair you know what it is.”

“We have an auction coming up soon, and I want you working with Jisung on security. You’ll have your own areas, of course, we want to see what you’re capable of on your own.”

He smiled again, and this time it was more pointed. “There’s an auction coming up, a big one. I want you to work security with Jisung. You’ll have your own section to cover. Think of it as a field test; we want to see what you’re capable of on your own.”

Jeongin perked up at that, and for the first time, Changbin saw him smile. It was all teeth, and adorable.

It was weird, though. Changbin narrowed his eyes. Why was he so excited? No one was ever that happy to be put on surveillance duty, especially for an event this dangerous. From behind Hyunjin, Seungmin seemed to notice too. His eyes narrowed subtly, analyzing.

Jeongin bowed again, then looked up. “Will I be paid for this? Or is this an initiation of sorts?”

“You’ll be compensated once everything is over,” Hyunjin said smoothly.

“Understood,” Jeongin said, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

The room quieted for a beat.

Minho’s gaze hadn’t left him once. Chan had gone still again, phone screen forgotten in his hand. Changbin could feel the same tension tightening his own shoulders.

Hyunjin gave a final nod. “You’re dismissed. Seungmin will walk you back.”

Jeongin bowed a third time, then turned on his heel without another word.

As the doors shut behind him, Changbin let out a quiet breath through his nose. “He’s too calm,” he muttered.

Hyunjin didn’t respond immediately, gazing lingering on the door thoughtfully.

“He’s exactly what we need,” he said at last. “But the question is, what does he need from us?”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

When the door clicked shut behind them, Jeongin’s whole demeanor flipped. The obedient posture, the formal tone; gone. He slouched, exhaling like he'd just finished a performance, and glanced sideways at Seungmin with thinly veiled boredom.

“Do you have gum?” he asked, deadpan.

Seungmin simply shook his head no, turning and walking away, Jeongin following closely behind him.

Jeongin trailed after him. “Well, do you have candy or something? I’m desperate, man. You guys took mine with the bag, and I swear I'm going through withdrawals. I might die.” He scratched at his arm in exaggerated distress.

“Are you always this annoying?” Seungmin asked flatly.

“Yes,” Jeongin answered without hesitation, voice completely serious.

Seungmin paused mid-step, sighed through his nose, and pinched the bridge of it with two fingers. He had a feeling Jeongin was going to act like Jisung.

 “Great,” he turned toward the hallway leading to the kitchen, not that Jeongin knew where it was. “If I give you something, will you shut up?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeongin said, giving a dramatic salute like a soldier reporting for duty.

Seungmin didn’t respond. He just kept walking.

Behind him, Jeongin muttered, “Your hospitality rating just went up to a 2.5.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes so hard he swore he saw the inside of his skull. He scowled under his breath, “So we’re rating this now. Perfect.”

They reached the kitchen, sleek and modern with matte black counters and a brushed steel fridge that probably cost more than Jeongin’s whole apartment. Seungmin moved toward a drawer without hesitation and pulled out a small tin. He tossed it toward Jeongin without looking.

Jeongin caught it with both hands and popped it open as if it were treasure.

“Lemon drops?” he said, surprised. “What are you, eighty?”

“They’re Seungmin-proof. Nobody ever asks for more.”

“That’s because they taste like shit,” jeongin snorted.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Then give them back.”

Jeongin shoved two in his mouth immediately. “Too late. These are now a peace offering. You can’t take them back.”

“Peace offering implies we weren’t at peace,” Seungmin said, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “This is more like a hostage negotiation.”

Jeongin leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Harsh, but fair. So, when do I start?”

“Start what?”

“The whole auction security thing. I’m assuming this isn’t just some glorified internship.”

Seungmin gave him a sidelong glance as he poured water into a kettle. “You’re observant for a kid.”

“Not a kid,” Jeongin said, popping another lemon drop. 

Seungmin decided to ignore that comment.

“You’ll be with Jisung tomorrow,” he said. “He’ll go over what he’s set up so far. Hyunjin wants to see what you can do, so don’t be dumb.”

“Define dumb,” Jeongin replied, grinning.

“Don’t lie. Don’t steal. Don’t flirt with the boss. Don’t touch anything you don’t understand.”

Jeongin huffed. “That last one feels targeted.”

“It is,” Seungmin said, turning to face him fully. “Just do your job, and maybe you’ll walk away from this with all your teeth.”

Jeongin mock-checked his reflection in the kettle. “I’d like to keep my face intact. It’s kind of my whole brand.”

Seungmin didn’t smile, but his mouth almost twitched.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Just don’t get cocky.”

Jeongin gave him a little mock bow. “Thanks for the candy and life advice, Mr. Sunshine.”

Seungmin pointed toward the island next to the stove. “Sit, before I decide to see if Changbin needs a new punching bag.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Jeongin sat down on a bar stool, still sucking loudly on the lemon drops.

Seungmin side-eyed him before going back to the kettle, the steam letting out a loud hiss. He whispered to himself, quiet enough that Jeongin wouldn’t be able to hear him. “This kid’s going to be a problem.”

But the corners of his mouth curved up just a little anyway.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The door clicked shut behind him, and Jeongin stood at the door for a couple of seconds. Just as Hyunjin had said, his bag was back, neatly placed at the foot of the bed. He crossed the room quickly, tossing the lemon drops onto the desk before digging through the bag. A second later, he pulled out another lollipop and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied sigh.

He quickly started unbuttoning his shirt, finally checking out the closet.

Lavish was an understatement.

 It was a walk-in closet, with rows and rows of clothes, some still with tags on them, hung perfectly spaced. At the far end, a polished shoe rack gleamed under soft overhead lights, full of expensive brands Jeongin didn’t care to recognize.  He dropped the shirt on the ground, flicking through the options halfheartedly, wrinkling his nose at their pristine collars and delicate fabrics. He didn’t care if they saw him or not; they were the weirdos for watching in the first place. He looked through the options for a second, but nothing suited his taste. It was all annoyingly expensive, and he himself was more of a casual dresser. 

With a snort, he grabbed a pair of fluffy slippers from the bottom rack and walked back out shirtless, lollipop hanging loosely from his mouth like a cigarette.

The bathroom welcomed him with silence. He locked the door behind him, twisted the tap on the tub, and let the room fill with the hiss of hot water. Then, finally alone, he crouched to retrieve the real prize.

His shoe.

Specifically, the left one.

He peeled back the insole and dug out the tiny earpiece, still warm and slightly damp. “Disgusting,” he muttered, wiping it off with a towel like it had personally offended him. “Sweaty surveillance tech. Real professional.”

Once satisfied, he pressed the tiny bud into his ear and perched on the edge of the sink, voice low and cautious.

“Lixie?”

Static. Then–

“Took you long enough,” came Felix’s voice, dry and sharp as ever. But Jeongin could hear the tension under it.

He let out a breath through his nose. His shoulders dropped, and the corners of his mouth curved into the kind of smile he didn’t show anyone else. He’s not used to being away from his hyung, them being attached at the hip since they were tweens, and he couldn’t help the way his body sagged at the sound of his voice.

“I couldn’t risk it,” Jeongin murmured. “There are cameras everywhere. I think they’re watching me 24/7.”

“I know, I know, I just–you can’t blame me for getting antsy.”

“I’m the same way, don’t worry,” Jeongin said, spinning the lollipop between his teeth. “But I’ve got something. Good news.”

“Jeongin, you know I hate suspense.”

Jeongin smirked. “My ‘first’ assignment is working security at the auction house.” He made air quotes even though Felix couldn’t see him. “Starts tomorrow. I’m officially in.”

“Oh my god, this is perfect.” Felix let out a shaky sigh. “G.D. is making me a new ID and getting me on the guest list, so everything is set.”

Jeongin leaned back against the counter, letting the steam from the tub curl around him.

“Oh,” Felix added, suddenly sheepish. “There’s just, uh… a couple of things we need to keep in mind.”

Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “Felix.”

A beat.

“I might need to cut a few fingers and eyes out,” Felix said in a tone that tried for casual but failed spectacularly. “But hey! I’m officially not blonde anymore!”

“You WHAT?!”

Felix coughed. “I look very mysterious with black hair, thank you. And technically, I didn’t do anything yet.”

Jeongin groaned, rubbing his forehead. “You better not show up to the auction looking like you crawled out of a horror movie.”

“No promises,” Felix said cheerfully. “But I’ll be there. Right on schedule.”

“I swear, every time we speak, you give me a mini heart attack.”

“It's my charm, baby,” he could practically hear the wink in Felix’s voice.

“Gross. Never call me that again, I might get sick,” he exaggeratedly shuddered.

“It’s my charm, baby,” Felix replied smoothly, and Jeongin could practically hear the wink in his voice.

“Gross. Never call me that again, I might get sick,” Jeongin said, shuddering dramatically even though no one could see it. “I’ve already had to stomach Hyunjin’s fake politeness and Seungmin’s death stares today. I’m at my limit.”

“Oh no,” Felix gasped mockingly. “You’re suffering. Poor baby.”

“Stop,” Jeongin groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled around his lollipop. “Remind me again when you’re not possibly dismembering people in my name.”

“That’s teamwork, sweetheart.”

Jeongin dragged a hand down his face. “I’m hanging up now.”

Felix laughed, and just like that, some of the tension in Jeongin’s chest eased.

“I’ll call you tomorrow after I suffer through Jisung’s suspicions, okay? Make sure to get some dinner in you.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“I mean it, Felix.” Jeongin’s voice grew stern. “You need energy if you’re going to pull this off.”

“Stop acting like my dad.”

“You don’t have a dad?”

“Exactly,” Felix said with a light chuckle. “So stop trying to fill the role.”

“Felix–”

“Don’t worry about me, Innie. I’ll eat a full-course meal, dessert, and all. Now go get your beauty rest.”

Before Jeongin could argue, the line cut off with a soft click.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. A flicker of a smile tugged at his lips despite the ache behind his eyes.

Just one more day, and he’ll see Felix again. Even if it’s just through a computer screen.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After the line disconnected, Jeongin sat still for a moment, the silence in the room settling over him like a heavy blanket. The familiar buzz of tension had dulled now that he’d heard Felix’s voice, but it wasn’t gone. He doubted it would be, not until this was all over.

With a quiet sigh, he stood up and padded over to the tub. The bath had filled while they talked, steam curling lazily in the air, fogging up the mirror. He stripped the rest of the way down, dropping his clothes into a careless heap, then stepped in, hissing a little at the heat before easing in slowly.

The water was hot, just shy of scalding, and it seeped into his muscles, unraveling the day’s tension bit by bit. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle again. He decided to forgo the jets today, just wanting to soak. Here, at least, in this small, locked space, he could breathe. No cameras, no suspicious stares. Just steam, heat, and quiet.

He dunked his head under for a second before surfacing again, slicking his hair back with both hands. The ache in his shoulders lessened slightly. Despite everything, this place knew how to keep up appearances. Even the bathwater smelled like expensive soap and mint.

After twenty minutes or so, washing himself thoroughly with a shower, he finally got out, wrapping himself in one of the fluffy robes and toweling off his hair. He changed into a pair of sweats and a soft, oversized T-shirt he’d dug out of the bottom of his bag, then ran a comb quickly through his damp hair.

Back in the room, he popped another lollipop into his mouth and slipped out. He noticed after he had gotten back that no one locked the door this time, which he was thankful for. The halls were mostly empty at this hour, as he padded down toward the kitchen on quiet feet, slippers muffling his steps. He made it a point to memorize what he could of the layout earlier, so he didn’t struggle to find it that much.

The kitchen was still warm from earlier use. There was a plate of covered leftovers sitting on the island with his name on a sticky note with Seungmin’s name written next to it. Jeongin smiled faintly at the sight.

He lifted the cover and found a still-warm meal: a bowl of seasoned rice, a few pieces of fried chicken, and some kimchi on the side. Simple but comforting. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, sat at the island, and ate slowly, savoring each bite like it was his last.

Afterward, he rinsed his dishes, dried them, and placed them neatly on the rack, and padded back toward his room, head slightly bowed, posture relaxed.

But his eyes were sharp, flicking toward every camera he passed.

Let them watch. He’d give them exactly what they wanted, for now.

And tomorrow, he’d give them a little more.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It seemed to be a common theme for everyone to shove themselves into the surveillance room, watching the boy intently when no one was with him. Jisung, cramped in his usual chair, felt the edges of irritation crawl up his spine. This was his space, and it felt like everyone was lining in for movie night.

On the screen, Jeongin rummaged through his bag and pulled out an obnoxiously large handful of lollipops. He unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied sigh, like he was getting his fix. 

Seungmin’s flat voice cut through the quiet. “Does he have an oral fixation or something? I swear, he looked like he was going to die if I didn’t give him something to keep his mouth preoccupied earlier.”

“Stole my lemon drops, the bastard,” he added, like it was the ultimate betrayal.

The kid started unbuttoning his shirt, and a chorus of awkward coughing erupted as everyone hastily looked away.

“Jesus, does he not know we’re recording him?” Jisung scratched at the side of his neck, guilt prickling at his skin.“I feel like a pervert…”

Minho was the only one to not look away, entirely unaffected. Jisung should’ve expected that. “No, he knows. This is just his way of flipping us off.”

Jisung made a face. “Honestly? Respect.”

Jeongin disappeared into the closet, shirt hitting the floor, and for a beat, no one said a word. The camera angle caught more than anyone expected. His torso was a map of scars: fine lines, rough patches, old wounds barely healed. Some looked fresh. Most of it looked like shrapnel damage. His back was considerably worse, upper arms, shoulders, and neck to waist scars in long, jagged lines, smaller ones across the sides of them. It looked brutal, and Jisung couldn’t help the sharp inhale at the sight.

The worst part of it was that Jeongin looked entirely unaffected, as if he forgot they were there and that everyone could see them.

No one moved.

“…That’s not from candy withdrawals,” Seungmin muttered, voice low now.

“They’re not self-inflicted either,” Chan said. “You’d have to try really hard to carve those angles into yourself. And some of them look like skid marks.”

Minho leaned forward slightly. “He’s been in the middle of something. Gunfire, maybe. But that doesn’t explain the other ones.”

Jisung stared at the screen, unsettled. The way the kid moved like all of this was normal, like pain was background noise.

Everything about this kid was confusing. 

“Who are you?” Jisung murmured under his breath.

“Was he in the car crash?”  Hyunjin asked, his tone unusually quiet from where he sat beside Chan, eyes fixed on the monitor.

“What do you mean?”

“You mentioned his parents died in a car crash.” Hyunjin reiterated, “Was he in it?”

Silence fell across the room.

Jisung shifted, pulling open a separate folder on his terminal. Minho’s clearance had granted him access to the unredacted police files. It took only seconds to locate the report, but it felt longer with everyone’s eyes on him.

He clicked it open, eyes skimming the screen.

“…Yeah,” he murmured. “He was.”

Hyunjin leaned forward slightly. “Details?”

Jisung hesitated before reading. “Drunk driver, highway 17. Midnight collision. The other car– Jeongin’s –was hit head-on. The engine caught fire almost instantly.”

“Jesus,” Seungmin muttered.

“The parents were killed on impact,” Jisung went on, jaw tight. “But Jeongin… he was ejected. Thrown across the asphalt, skidding a few meters, and landed hard, mostly on his back and shoulders. That's the only reason he was able to avoid the fire, but he was unconscious when the paramedics got there. Multiple contusions, a fractured clavicle, and spine trauma. It’s a miracle he lived.”

“No wonder we didn’t put it together,” Chan said quietly. “If the worst of the damage is along his back, and we’ve only seen him head-on…”

“And he still walks around like he owns the place,” Seungmin added, voice unreadable.

Jisung sat back slowly, the weight of it all settling. “He would’ve been what… twelve? Thirteen?”

“Twelve,” Hyunjin confirmed. “He disappeared off the radar after being discharged. No foster home records. No relatives listed. Just vanished.”

“Until now,” Chan murmured. “And somehow with a stream of quiet, clean deposits going into his account.”

“Which means someone took him in,” Minho said. 

They all stared at the screen again, where Jeongin’s room remained still. Just the faint background noise of water running through pipes. The bath, probably.

No one spoke for a while.

Then Jisung said what they were all thinking. “So he’s not just some brat with good instincts.”

“No,” Hyunjin said softly. “He’s a survivor.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A little while later, Jeongin emerged from the bathroom, a puff of steam following him before the door clicked shut. He looked impossibly small in the oversized clothes, baggy gray sweatpants that pooled around his ankles, and a T-shirt that swallowed his frame. With his damp hair falling in uneven strands around his face, and the collar of the shirt stretching wide across his collarbones, not a single scar was visible. Just another kid trying to stay warm.

He grabbed another lollipop from the pile on the desk, unwrapped it lazily, and popped it into his mouth before padding out of the bedroom.

No one had spoken after their revelation, just watching the kid as he made his way to the kitchen. Now that they were watching more intently, they noticed he winced whenever he looked up at the cameras, or how his back stayed incredibly stiff while walking. But other than that, there really were no tells that anything had happened to him. 

Jeongin entered the kitchen and slowed when he spotted the food someone had left out for him. His face lit up with a small, genuine smile. He didn’t question it, just accepted the quiet kindness.

Seungmin let out a huff from behind Jisung, but he didn’t turn around.

On the screen, Jeongin hopped up onto the kitchen island, legs swinging a little as he picked at the kimchi first, the lollipop still tucked in the corner of his mouth. Still quiet, still alone, still being watched. And yet… Jeongin just sat there, eating like he belonged.

Jisung swallowed thickly. He wasn’t sure who Jeongin really was yet. But the kid was starting to unnerve him in a way even trained killers couldn’t.

Chapter Text

Jeongin woke up to the taste of sugar still clinging to his tongue and a vague ache of stiffness in his back. The bed here was too soft, making every ache in his body more prominent. It’s ironic, but he wished he were on his spring twin back at home. He was used to getting jabbed by them, so it wasn’t too uncomfortable for him.

For a moment, he stared at the desk across the room, disoriented by how quiet everything was. He missed waking up to morning traffic, Felix trying and failing to cook breakfast for them. He missed Felix. He missed him a lot, actually. Homesickness was starting to get unbearable, and it wasn’t a great feeling. Maybe he should ask if they could drop him off at the shop, some excuse about needing his supplies. What he really needs is his hyung, and if he doesn’t see him now, he might never again. He doesn’t like to think negatively about those types of things, but when two mafias are threatening your life, your chances of getting alive are slim, no matter how slick Felix might be. Christ, Jeongin himself might not make it out of this, but he wouldn’t want to without his hyung.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he flexed his fingers. The faint pull in his shoulders reminded him he was still healing, still bruised in places that didn’t always show. The T-shirt he’d slept in was oversized and wrinkled, hanging off one shoulder. Baggy sweatpants sagged low on his hips, barely clinging to him. It was comforting to be engulfed like this, to not worry about wandering eyes. He didn’t care about his scars, but other people did, and they always made it some big deal. It was uncomfortable as all hell when that would happen, so he avoided it as much as possible. Most of his scars stopped a bit above his elbows, so if he really needed to, he could wear a simple undershirt under his tee and it’d be fine.

Sometimes he’d forget they were there, almost rolling up his sleeves in public more times than he could count, but when he’d go through the motions, the stretched skin would remind him just in time. It was exhausting trying to hide something so big all the time, but it was even more having to deal with people.

He reached beneath his pillow for the earpiece but didn’t slip it in yet. He just ran his thumb over the smooth casing, grounding himself with the familiar feel of it.

With a sigh, he sat up, hair a mess and T-shirt wrinkled. He grabbed another lollipop from the pile on the desk, green apple, he noted, and stuck it between his lips before slipping into the bathroom first, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and eventually making his way to the closet. The clothes were still too flashy for him, and he’d rather wear his own. That could be another excuse to see Felix. But he grabbed the plainest thing he could find: dark jeans, a hoodie, sneakers with no obvious branding, and got dressed quickly, ignoring the sting where fabric met damaged nerves.

He didn’t flinch, letting them watch. They’re the perverts if they did, not him. Before he left, he took a deep sigh, getting ready to put on the facade again. He just wanted to go home already. One day. Just one more day, and he and Felix could disappear into Malaysia, forgetting their lives before. That’d be so nice.

By the time he stepped into the hallway, he was chewing the stick of his now-finished lollipop and debating whether to throw it on the ground or tuck it in his pocket. He chose the latter. No need to piss off Seungmin first thing in the morning. He simply popped another one in his mouth from his pocket, grape flavored this time.

The halls were mostly empty, though he was sure there were cameras around each corner. He offered them all a lazy smile when he passed, just for fun. Not all of it was a facade, he just really liked fucking with people sometimes.

When he arrived at the kitchen, it was empty, warm, and already smelled like miso soup and freshly cooked rice. Someone had been thoughtful– or just assigned the task, more likely. He had to remind himself that they didn’t like him, just did whatever Hyunjin asked of them. That, unfortunately for them, included taking care of Jeongin.

A full tray of food sat on the island, covered with a mesh lid to keep it warm. His stomach let out a low gurgle, and he figured it’d be good if he didn’t survive on sugar all day.

He sat where he had last night, swinging his feet idly as he pulled the lid off and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. There was doenjang jjigae , steamed rice, a rolled omelette, and a side of kimchi . It was simple, but comforting. He picked at the rice first, still chewing on his lollipop with the other side of his mouth.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled to himself, glancing up briefly at the ceiling camera like it was a person.

No answer, of course. But he didn’t need one; he could feel their eyes on him.

They were watching again, and that was fine. Because Jeongin was watching them, too. But hey, why not give a show in the meantime?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung leaned back in the chair, the surveillance room too quiet without the usual bickering and comments. None of Minho's snide remarks, Seungmin muttering under his breath, or Hyunjin trying to play god in the corner. Just Jisung, the low hum of the monitors, and the steady tick of the second hand on the wall clock behind him. He missed this. They were no doubt going to crawl back in here eventually, ready to watch their favorite show as of late, so he was trying to enjoy it to the fullest, even though he hated mornings.

On the central monitor, Jeongin wandered into the kitchen, hair messy and a lollipop already hanging out of his mouth like it was a cigarette he never planned to quit. He looked like he’d rolled straight out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. Jisung decided not to watch the camera after last night, guilt flushing his neck. He knew that Jeongin did it on purpose for that exact reason, but he’s not like Minho. He can’t even watch his own boyfriend change, feeling like he was a creep. 

Jeongin wore baggy pants and an oversized hoodie. Just the kid. Jisung watched him sit on the counter like he’d done it a thousand times, feet swinging like a bored teenager in a friend’s house. Chan always got on him about respect, and now he could kind of understand. The kid acted as if he owned the place after two days, and he was kind of impressed with the amount of balls he must have, acting so cocky in a house full of mafia members.

He zoomed in slightly on one of the corner angles. Jeongin’s left shoulder twitched as he reached for the chopsticks. It was small and barely noticeable, but after years of watching body language, Jisung knew what pain looked like when someone was trying to hide it.

The case file sat open beside him, pages spread like a crime scene. Jisung had read it twice. He didn’t want to read it a third time, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Thrown from the car. Highway burns, internal bleeding. And somehow, Jeongin walked out of that alive.

Jisung exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair. Even if the kid was weird as all hell, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy. How much physical therapy did he go through to get to this point? Nerve damage, especially to that degree, isn’t pretty. And yet, Jeongin seemed unfazed by it. He seemed unfazed by everything, actually.

“I don’t get you,” he muttered to the screen. “You know we’re watching, yet you still look us in the eye.”

He tapped his pen against the desk, thinking. “And someone’s sending you money,” he added quietly.

That part had been confirmed last night. There were still plenty of things he couldn’t trace, like the assumed phone call in the shop, but he was better at digging through these types of files anyway, so he wasn’t surprised.

 Maybe he didn’t make a phone call. 

He dug into the account trails, traced a few encrypted signals, and while they couldn’t pinpoint the sender yet, the fact someone was regularly funding Jeongin each week meant one thing:

He wasn’t working alone. Or he had a sugar daddy, but Jisung didn’t want to think about that. 

That was two things.

Jisung shook the thought out of his brain and leaned forward, elbows on the desk, lighting a cigarette. Maybe he should try lollipops instead of cigarettes, like Jeongin. It’s diabetes or cancer. He picked cancer, taking an extra-long drag.

He watched as Jeongin picked up the rolled omelette, inspecting it with the same judgment he gave the hallway cameras. His mouth moved. He was talking to himself again, he noted. Jisung turned up the audio a bit, catching a muffled thanks, looking at the camera. Odd. Everything about this was odd. 

Jeongin didn’t say much at first, but Jisung watched anyway, waiting for him to start doing something interesting; checking the drawers, stealing snacks, anything to give them more data. It's hard to get a read on someone when they never do anything. But instead, the kid looked directly at the camera, straight into the lens as if he saw Jisung on the other end.

Jisung leaned forward.

Jeongin tilted his head slightly, the way someone would if they were trying to figure out if they were being listened to.

Then he said, casually, “You’re watching, right?”

Jisung blinked, stunned. The room suddenly felt colder, despite the static hum of the monitors. His hand hovered over the keyboard, but he didn’t pause the feed; he wanted to see where this headed. Sure, Jeongin would send a few cocky smirks at the cameras, or do things specifically to make them regret watching him, but he never tried to talk to them through it.

Jeongin continued, voice light, almost teasing. “You’ve been watching me since I got here. I figured I’d return the favor.”

There was a glint in his eyes, as if he was getting off on freaking Jisung out.

“I hope you’re not Jisung,” he added. “He’s too far in my business for my liking.”

Rude.

“Wouldn’t be in your business if you weren’t so fucking weird ,” Jisung bit back, as if Jeongin could hear him.

Jeongin chewed slowly on the omelette, eyes never leaving the lens.

Who the fuck does that? This felt like rage bait to Jisung, or maybe the kid really was just bored. But still, he hadn't seen anyone else stare down surveillance like this except for Hyunjin. And at least when Hyunjin did it, it made sense; he’d often talk to Jisung through the cameras instead of walking to the security room instead. Or, god forbid, use a phone.

“You could’ve picked a better angle, though,” Jeongin added, waving vaguely at the ceiling. “My left side’s not as pretty.”

Jisung huffed a breath, almost a laugh, though it came out more like disbelief. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated. Maybe both.

Jeongin popped the rest of the lollipop into his mouth, then muttered just loudly enough to be picked up, “Tell your guy Seungmin thanks for the food. Not the lemon drops, though. Those were ass.”

He hopped off the counter, back to the fridge like nothing happened.

Jisung leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed, lips parting as he muttered to himself:

“…What are you?”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Seungmin had been halfway through reorganizing the records in his office when Jisung messaged him a simple:

“Kitchen. Now.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just sighed, shoving the last folder onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary, and made his way down the hall.

He pushed open the kitchen door just in time to catch Jeongin closing the fridge, a rice ball already in one hand and the remains of a lollipop stick sticking out of his mouth like some kind of toothpick.

“You always eat like it’s your last day alive?” Seungmin asked dryly, arms crossing as he leaned against the doorframe. 

Jeongin didn’t even flinch. “Speak of the devil! I just told cameraman over here to thank you for the food,” he pointed back to the camera in the corner of the kitchen. 

Ah, so that’s why Jisung wanted him in here. 

Seungmin stepped forward, grabbed an apple from the counter without breaking eye contact. “You talked to the camera.”

Jeongin shrugged. “I figured someone was bored. Thought I’d help.”

Seungmin sighed, biting into the fruit. “You knew someone was watching, and you still ran your mouth?”

“Look,” Jeongin leaned on the island, chin propped on one hand. “The least you could do is stop pretending the cameras don’t go both ways. It gets boring in here, I thought I’d have a little fun.”

Seungmin chewed slowly. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Jeongin shrugged, “but you guys brought a broke college student to do you’re dirty work, so really, who’s the idiot here?”

“Broke, huh?” Seungmin scoffed.

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

There was a pause, just long enough for Seungmin to decide whether it was worth the effort to argue. He really was the idiot, because if Hyunjin had heard him, he was probably screwed. 

Seungmin blinked. Then blinked again. “You talk a lot for someone who has no idea where the security room is.”

Jeongin grinned, wide and unbothered. Successfully distracted, or maybe he avoided it on purpose. “You’re assuming I care where it is.”

“Well, considering that’s where you’re supposed to report this morning, I’d say you should care a little.”

Jeongin tilted his head innocently. “Oh? My bad. No one gave me a map.”

“That’s because we’re not a hotel.”

“That’s disappointing, I was promised five stars.”

He sighed, gesturing toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the security room before you end up in someone’s office by accident and get shot.”

Jeongin gave a dramatic bow. “My hero.”

“If you talk the whole way there, I will shove you in a broom closet.”

“You’d miss me.”

Seungmin didn’t answer, just walked off. Jeongin followed with a bounce in his step, the rice ball half-eaten in one hand and absolutely no sense of urgency in his pace.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung didn’t bother turning around when he heard the approaching footsteps. He could see Seungmin and Jeongin standing in front of it, the older typing a code into a PIN pad and opening the door.

The door clicked open. Jisung swiveled slightly in his chair, casting a sideways glance toward the entrance, scowling as his eyes landed on the younger boy.

To his credit, Jeongin looked genuinely surprised to see Jisung, as if he wasn’t the one who literally ran surveillance. He offered a sheepish smile and muttered Sorry .

Seungmin didn’t even look at Jeongin, just gave Jisung a deadpan look and jabbed a thumb in the boy’s direction. “If I have to spend one more minute with him, I’m quitting.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, the door hissing shut behind him.

Jeongin clicked his tongue. “I’m not that bad.”

“You really are,” Jisung sighed, already turning back to the wall of glowing screens. Without looking, he pointed to the chair beside him. “Sit.”

Jeongin listened, much to Jisung’s surprise, immediately dropping into the seat and twisting back and forth idly.

Jisung watched him for a second, skeptical. “You’re listening?”

Jeongin gave him a lazy grin. “Don’t get used to it.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and turned back to the monitors, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Right. Well, I’m giving you a test run. One random assignment. You figure it out yourself. You’ve got 30 minutes to beat it.”

Jeongin stopped spinning. “No instructions?”

“I’ll be watching,” Jisung said, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “So don’t do anything stupid.”

“That’s very vague.”

“That’s the point.”

Jisung pulled up a folder and dragged it onto the main screen. A series of codes and surveillance feeds blinked into view– still images, location tags, a map with blinking red coordinates.

Jeongin leaned in, finally looking interested. “Okay… what am I looking at?”

“You tell me,” Jisung replied coolly. “Start digging.”

Jeongin stared at the screen for a moment, eyes narrowing. “This feels like a trap.”

“It is,” Jisung said without missing a beat. “Good luck.”

Without waiting for more, Jeongin motioned for him to move, sliding into place in front of the keyboard. Jisung let him, folding his arms and leaning back to observe.

He expected hesitation, some fumbling, at least a few dumb questions. Instead, Jeongin’s fingers danced over the keys like they knew exactly where to go. He bypassed the bait scripts without touching them, ran silent traces through three ports, and started peeling back metadata as if it were nothing to him.

Jisung frowned, glancing at the clock. Five minutes in.

He was technically supposed to be watching, but he found watching other people code boring. It’s much more fun to be the one doing it, in his opinion. 

He didn’t expect Jeongin to crack it, Jisung set it up personally just to fuck with him. In Jeongin’s position, with Jisung's knowledge, he could probably get it done within the time frame, but even though he was only a couple of years older, he still had more experience, most likely at least.

He started to space out after that, his mind playing scenarios about finally getting Jeongin to crack, proving he was right to be paranoid to everyone else. Oh, he could hope.

After what only felt like a couple of seconds, Jeongin tapped twice on the table and leaned back. He looked up, and the clock showed that only 5 minutes had passed since the last time he had checked. What the fuck?

Jisung blinked. “You’re done?”

“Yup,” Jeongin said, spinning lazily in the chair.

Jisung shot forward, practically shoving him out of the way. “Move.”

Jeongin scooted over with a smug look. “You’re welcome.”

Jisung scanned the logs, his scowl deepening with every second. He cross-referenced the terminal commands, checked the traces, and reloaded the logs.

“What the– how the hell did you finish that so quickly?” Jisung muttered, mouth slightly agape. He had to admit, his ego was a little bruised.

Jeongin just gave him a puzzled look, “What do you mean? Was it supposed to be hard?”

He looked genuinely confused, which only pissed Jisung off more. 

He glared. “What are you, dude?” That seemed to be a common question for him over the past two days.

Jeongin leaned back again, completely unfazed. “Just a broke college kid, remember?”

Bullshit. Jisung didn’t say it, but the thought was loud in his head. He stared at the screen, then at Jeongin, then back at the screen. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jisung gave him a sideways glance. He knew the kid wasn’t broke, so why was he trying to hide it so much? He couldn’t bring that up, though, Hyunjin would have his head.

He sighed, thinking. He needed something to deflect off of, so he wouldn’t spill anything. Then he remembered the lollipops.

“Whatever,” he muttered, before finally looking up at him, “what’s with you and lollipops? Are you a sugar addict?”

Jeongin simply shrugged, looking up at the computer screens. Jisung noticed a slight discomfort at that movement, but it wasn’t easy to pick up. This kid was really good at acting, or just didn’t mind the scars. He reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out another lollipop, strawberry flavored, and unwrapped it with ease.

Jeongin chuckled after a moment, “I mean, I probably do now, but that's not the main reason, no,” he sat back in his chair, “it just keeps me busy, I don’t know. A good distraction sometimes.”

“Couldn’t you pick something less childish, though?” Jisung picked up his open pack of cigarettes, giving it a light shake for emphasis.

Jeongin wrinkled his nose, unimpressed. “Gross. I like having my lungs intact, thanks.”

“Rude.”

Jeongin just ignored him, continuing, “Plus, lollipops are much cheaper and accessible. You can't smoke anywhere you want, but who cares about a stupid lollipop?”

Jisung scoffed, shaking the pack once more before sliding a cigarette out with his teeth. “Yeah, but they make you look like a toddler.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, the lollipop stick twisting between his fingers. “And you smell like a homeless shelter. I’ll take being a ‘toddler’ over ‘carcinogenic.’”

He popped the lollipop back in with a smug little grin. “Besides, have you ever tried hacking with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth? One wrong move and you've got your precious setup on fire.”

Jisung paused, lighter halfway to his lips. “…Fair point.”

Jeongin leaned back again, smug satisfaction written all over his face. “See? Lollipops are the superior oral fixation.”

Jisung groaned. “Don’t say oral fixation ever again while we’re alone in a room.”

“Well, that's what it is, isn’t it? You’ve got one too. I’m just saying, if you’re gonna develop a coping mechanism, at least make it taste like strawberry.”

Jisung lit the cigarette with a sigh, muttering around the filter. “God, you’re insufferable.”

Jeongin grinned wider. “And yet here you are. You haven’t tried kicking me out yet, have you?”

That made Jisung pause, eyes narrowing as he blew out smoke through his nose. Because yeah, he hasn’t yet. 

“Anywho,” Jeongin went on, far too pleased with himself, “since you’re not kicking me out, and I beat your super hard challenge,” his mocking tone made Jisung want to jam the damn lollipop down his throat, “I have a question.”

Jisung didn’t even bother to look at him. “And that is?”

“Could you take me back to the tech shop?” Jeongin asked casually, like he hadn’t just shattered Jisung’s ego, “I want to grab some supplies for work, since everything tech-wise is locked up in here, and I don’t love that. Also, I’d like to be able to wear my own clothes, instead of whatever Versace shit you got in here.”

That made Jisung glance at him. “You do know you’re living in a compound run by a criminal organization, right? This isn’t a weekend Airbnb.” Jisung tilted his head. “Also, if you’re really the broke college student you claim to be, I figured you’d be foaming at the mouth for designer labels.”

Jeongin popped the lollipop from his mouth. “Yeah, well, even prisons let you have your own socks. I’m not asking for a field trip, just a stop by the shop. I’ll be quick, in and out.” he scrunched his nose again, “and I don’t care for rich stuff like that. Not only is it not my style, but I think it's a waste of money.”

“So, what? I’m just supposed to believe that’s all you want?” Jisung asked flatly.

Jeongin leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Believe what you want. I’m assuming you were gonna go through my bag anyway, and I’m going regardless. Asking just seemed more polite.”

Jisung couldn’t help the snort he let out at that. “Yeah, because you know the way back. I bet my whole setup you’d give up before you even make it to the gates.”

“Come on, please~ , Jisung hyung?”

Jisung stiffened. Not the hyung . Being the second youngest meant he never got called that, Seungmin outright refusing to. He didn’t think Jeongin should be calling him that so soon, but he couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction he got from hearing it. He hated how much it worked on him. This kid was a menace.

He sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Hyunjin’s going to kill me,” he muttered, then jabbed the cigarette back between his lips. “Fine. I’ll ask.”

Jeongin’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jisung grumbled. “But don’t make me regret it. If you so much as glance at anything shady, I’ll personally bury you under the shop floorboards.”

Jeongin gave him the toothiest grin. “Aw, so you do care.”

“I care about not being held responsible when Hyunjin snaps your neck,” Jisung replied, flicking ash into the tray. “Now get out before I change my mind.”

Jeongin stood with a stretch, the lollipop back in his mouth. “You’re the best, Jisungie.”

“ Out .” Jisung growled.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Jisung slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. This kid was absolutely going to be the death of him.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin strolled down the hallway with a bounce in his step, the lollipop bobbing lazily between his teeth. The second the surveillance room door clicked shut behind him, his smile faded into something tighter. He kept his walk casual, turning down the hall and into his bedroom. 

Once inside, he locked the door behind him and crossed to the bathroom, the only place he knew that didn’t have a camera. He turned on the sink, figuring it’d be suspicious to take a bath right now, and reached into his hoodie pocket.

The earpiece was warm in his palm, familiar in its smooth curve. He tucked it into his ear and tapped the receiver.

He clicked the receiver on with a soft tap, muttering, “Lixie?”

This time, there was no beat before he heard the other speak up, Felix’s voice ambrosia to Jeongin’s ears. 

“You’re alive. Shocking.”

Jeongin let out a soft scoff, a smile ghosting across his lips. “Missed you, too.”

“If you’re calling this early, I assume you’re not dying,” Felix said, voice crackly but clear. “What’s up?”

“I’m coming back to the shop.”

Silence. Then: “The hell you are.”

“Relax,” Jeongin said, lowering his voice. He moved his hands beneath the stream of water, rubbing them together as if he were simply washing up. “I got permission, kind of. I told them I just needed to grab a few things, some tools, clothes, maybe a snack.”

“You sure this isn’t a trap?” Felix asked, voice sharp now. “They might try to snoop, you’ve been in enemy territory for two days.”

“They’re already snooping,” Jeongin muttered. “Jisung’s bringing me. He said he’d ask Hyunjin, but I doubt they’ll say no. I have a feeling they’re gonna want to go through my stuff, and this is a perfect opportunity.

“That reminds me, did you clear everything from my files? There should be a shortcut on my keyboard for that somewhere.” Jeongin reached for the towel beside the sink, wiping his damp hands slowly, stalling for time. 

“Jisung, that’s the hacker guy, right? And obviously, I'm not stupid.”

“Yep. He hates me, but not enough to not babysit me full-time, apparently.”

Felix let out a breath, then his voice softened, just a little. “Alright, but I’m staying put. If something goes sideways, I’m not letting you be in danger like that.”

“That’s why I’m calling.” Jeongin leaned back against the wall, casting a glance toward the bathroom door. He couldn’t stay here long; it might look suspicious. “Stay home, I’ll be fast. I just… I need to see you before tomorrow. Just in case.”

There was a long pause. Then, quieter: “I always am.”

Jeongin closed his eyes for a second. The ache behind his ribs wasn’t from internal injuries this time.

“You good?” Felix asked.

He hesitated, then rubbed the towel between his hands. “Getting there.”

“That’s not a yes.”

Jeongin pulled the lollipop from his mouth and rolled it between his fingers. “Well, I haven’t punched anyone yet. So, progress.”

Felix chuckled, soft and fond. “Don’t scare the locals.”

“No promises,” Jeongin murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll buzz the earpiece when I’m close. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

“No, duh.”

The line went quiet after that, and Jeongin clicked the earpiece off. For a few seconds, he just stood there in the quiet, listening to his own breathing and the hum of the bathroom fan. 

Then, with a practiced grin, he left the bathroom, making his way out the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. He didn’t remember where Hyunjin’s office was, this mansion was built like a damn maze, but he figured the kitchen would be a good waiting area.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung wasn’t nervous. He was just... tense. There’s a difference. He’d been telling himself that for the last five minutes, cigarette burning low between his fingers, the bitter taste biting the back of his throat.

Jeongin’s smug little grin still burned into the back of his brain, even as he walked the quiet hallway toward Hyunjin’s office. He was still going over what happened in the surveillance room in his head again and again, trying to figure out if he’d missed something. Anything to explain how the hell a kid like that had just walked in and cracked his test like it was nothing.

Jisung had met his fair share of hackers in the past. Hyunjin spent years trying to pair him with one; someone who could lighten the workload, share the pressure, maybe even take over someday. They never stuck around though, mainly because they sucked at it. Of course, STRAY couldn’t have a liability like that, so they didn’t stick around, period.

That’s what Jisung expected when he met Jeongin, some brat with an early grave. They weren’t even sure that he could hack when they brought him in, just that he had some skills behind a screen. 

Jisung gave him the same test he gave everyone else who had been unfortunate enough to meet him. A thirty-minute death sentence wrapped in code, and no one had ever cracked it. That was the point. What Jeongin didn’t know when he had entered the room was that Jisung had a gun strapped under the desk, ready to put a bullet between the eyes before the kid had time to react. It was always a hassle to clean up brain matter that’d get on his monitors, but it was a whole lot less irritating than having someone begging for their life.

He had been prepared for every possibility, except for Jeongin actually beating it, especially not that fast. He made something that was the end of someone else’s life look like a walk in the park, and made Jisung look like a rookie in the process.

He puffed out smoke through his nose and rubbed at his temple with the heel of his hand. He’d need a moment to process that later. Right now, he had to explain to Hyunjin why he was asking for permission instead of telling the kid no and keeping him under lock and key like he was supposed to.

He paused in front of the double doors, flicking the ashes into one of the many trays scattered through the hallway. The place was a shrine to his nicotine habit at this point.

 Then, he knocked twice.

“Come in,” came Hyunjin’s voice, as calm and unreadable as always.

Jisung stepped in, closing the door behind him.

Hyunjin was sitting at his desk, fingers steepled under his chin, staring at his laptop screen like it had personally offended him. Chan sat beside him, sorting through the paperwork that was spread out across the desk. Hyunjin glanced up as Jisung entered, one brow arched in quiet question. 

“Let me guess,” Hyunjin said, voice flat. “You’re here about the kid.”

Jisung slumped into the seat across from the two with a grunt. “He wants to go back to the tech shop. Grab his tools, some clothes. You know, suspiciously innocent stuff.”

Hyunjin tilted his head. “And you’re actually considering it?”

Jisung shrugged, taking a drag from the cigarette. “He asked. I figured saying no would just make him more annoying. And if I say yes, there’s a chance I’ll get to be there while he opens every drawer, so it’s a win-win situation.”

Chan looked up from his papers, not saying anything for a beat, then:
“…You like him.”

Jisung nearly choked on the cigarette smoke, eyes narrowing. “I what ?”

“You like him,” Chan said again, with the kind of amusement only his hyung could get away with. “You’re too easy to read, you know that? You’re doing the whole, ‘ I’m pretending I hate him so I don’t have to admit I’m impressed ’ thing that you do, it’s so obvious.”

“I am not .” Jisung pointed at him like that would make a difference.  “First of all, no . Second, still no .”

“Uh-huh.”

“Third, he’s got skill, okay? That’s useful . Doesn’t mean I like him.”

Hyunjin’s gaze narrowed,  his voice cutting back in. “Then why are you letting him off the hook? You never do that, not even for Seungmin, and Seungmin brings you your cigarettes so you don’t have to leave the house.”

Jisung opened his mouth, then closed it again. Because he didn’t know.

Because, deep down, maybe he was impressed. Or curious. Or, God forbid, starting to think the kid didn’t deserve to be treated like a walking liability. Jeongin was cocky, sure, but he handled the assignment like it was nothing, which no one else had been able to do. 

“I’ll be there the whole time,” Jisung said eventually.  “With Changbin. I know you wouldn’t let me go alone.

“You know I wouldn’t let anything slip. Besides, with Changbin there, you’ll know if anything shady happens. We’re all aware he’s the most committed to his job.”

That earned a twitch of Hyunjin’s lips. He leaned back in his chair, quiet for a long time. Finally, with a sigh, he said:

 “Fine. Three hours. Two for the drive, one for the shop. You don’t leave his side, you don’t let him touch anything we haven’t cleared, and if he so much as looks like he’s about to bolt–”

“I’ll put him in the trunk,” Jisung muttered. “Got it.”

Hyunjin gave a slow, almost reluctant nod. “Be careful, I still don’t trust him.”

Jisung stood, nodding once. “Me neither.”

Chan gave a supportive smile from beside the other, and that made him feel the tiniest bit better. 

As he stepped out of the office, the cigarette now down to the filter, Jisung couldn’t shake the image of Jeongin leaning back in that surveillance chair, a damn lollipop in his mouth and mischief in his eyes like he already knew he’d get his way.

And that was what made Jisung nervous.

The kid was obnoxious, rude, and a liability in more ways than one. He was dangerous, no doubt about that. But for some unknown reason, He was starting to grow on him.

And he didn’t like that.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin had just crammed a second protein bar into his hoodie pocket when he heard the footsteps, quick and impatient. He didn’t have to ask who it was.

“I’ve missed you, dear Jisungie,” he called, voice syrupy with sarcasm.

Jisung stepped inside the kitchen like he owned the place, which, to be fair, he kind of did. Not officially, but when you were the entire security department, it came with the territory. He wore a white turtleneck under a thin jacket, baggy gray trousers hanging low on his hips, a cigarette tucked behind one ear, and wore a scowl like someone had just ruined his entire day. Jeongin assumed it had been him.

“Let’s go,” Jisung said flatly.

Jeongin blinked. “No ‘hello’ ? No, ‘hey, Jeongin, I just begged Hyunjin to let you out for a few hours’? ”

“I didn’t beg.”

“So you’re just letting me leave because you like me?”

Jisung looked like he wanted to hit something. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Jeongin smirked, popping a fresh lollipop into his mouth. Mission accomplished. “Lead the way, chaperone.”

He followed Jisung out of the room, the hallway outside quiet and dim. The mansion was always quiet, which unnerved him more than he liked to admit. Even your footsteps were barely audible. As they walked, Jeongin noticed Changbin waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed, in another muscle tee. He looked like someone who went to the gym for fun.

“Muscle, huh?” Jeongin muttered, then louder, “Let me guess, here to babysit?”

“Here to drop your puny ass if you act shady,” Changbin replied without missing a beat.

“Love the honesty,” Jeongin shot back with a thumbs-up.

Jisung didn’t speak until they were outside, pushing through the heavy back doors into the compound lot. The SUV was already running. Black, sleek, bulletproof; exactly the kind of overcompensation this place thrived on.

“I get shotgun, right?” Jeongin asked.

“You get whatever seat I tell you to.”

Changbin opened the front passenger door before he had the chance to, anyway.

Jeongin climbed into the back, trying not to gag at the sound of knuckles cracking up front. Jisung got behind the wheel this time, flicking the cigarette out the window before starting the drive. They rolled through acres of empty land, trees lining both sides. When the massive gates finally creaked open, Jeongin believed what Jisung said earlier– he would’ve absolutely given up before ever making it this far on foot.

He couldn’t help how he got more excited the longer they drove. After thirty minutes, the forest thinned, and the city skyline broke through. For the first time in two days, Jeongin saw the city again. It felt much longer to him, though. It hit him harder than he expected; the sight of real traffic, neon signs, people just… living.

He leaned against the window, watching the world pass. “Missed this,” he murmured.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jisung said, not taking his eyes off the road.

Jeongin turned his head to look at him, taking in the tight line of his jaw, the way his fingers drummed the steering wheel like he needed to burn off energy. Or nerves.

“You sure you’re not just bringing me back to the shop to plant a tracker in my toothbrush or something?”

Jisung snorted. “Please. You think I didn’t do that the moment you walked through the door?”

“…Wait, seriously?”

Silence.

Jeongin glared at him. “Jisungie.”

“Relax.” Jisung rolled his eyes. “I didn’t touch your toothbrush. And stop calling me that, it's annoying.”

Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “So it’s in something else. And that’s why I call you that in the first place, Jisungie .”

“Just enjoy your little field trip,” Jisung muttered, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Before I regret this.”

Too late , Jeongin thought,  but kept it to himself. Instead, he rolled the lollipop across his tongue and let the quiet hum of the road take over.

The farther they got from the mansion, the easier it was to breathe. The closer they got to the shop, the harder it was to pretend none of this mattered.

And as he sat there, stealing glances at the infamous Jisung of STRAY–his maybe-enemy, maybe-almost-friend– Jeongin felt a flicker of guilt settle in his chest. He couldn’t help but think, man , he actually kind of felt bad for having to betray them. Sure, he had just met them, and sure, they hated his guts, but everyone he’d been around had their own way of being kind to him. Even Chan, whom he had only met once, had been kind to him. 

Still, he wasn’t backing down.

If he didn’t do this, Felix was as good as dead, and he wasn’t losing his hyung over a bunch of psychopaths he barely knew. Maybe it was early-onset Stockholm syndrome; they did kidnap him, after all.

As promised, when the car slowed at the familiar corner, Jeongin slipped a hand into his hoodie pocket and tapped the receiver twice.

A quiet signal. Coming in.

Wheels crunched over the familiar cracks in the pavement. The tech shop loomed ahead, squeezed between an old noodle joint and a laundromat that definitely didn’t run legally. The neon sign in the window buzzed quietly, still flickering the last few letters of "Circuit Syndicate" in dim green light.

Home . It hit him low in the gut, deep and aching.

“We’re here,” Jisung muttered, putting the SUV in park.

Changbin was already climbing out from the front, scanning the alley like they were entering a setup. The man was way too paranoid for his own good.

Jeongin didn’t move right away. He stared at the glass door, the rusted frame, the tinted window that had a spiderweb crack in the corner that only he and Felix knew how it got there. He wondered if Felix was watching through the back hallway right now, already arming himself with a crowbar, or worse.

“You’ve got maybe thirty minutes,” Jisung said from the front seat, voice dry. “Traffic cost you time. Don’t waste it. And if you try anything–”

“I know,” Jeongin said, cutting him off. He pushed open the door and stepped out. “You’ll bury me under the floorboards. Super original threat, by the way.”

Changbin followed close behind him as they crossed the sidewalk. Jisung lit another cigarette and leaned against the hood, eyes tracking their every movement. Scratch what he said earlier, both of them were paranoid. He wasn’t going to try anything when it could put Felix in danger. Jeongin didn’t like having an audience, but he had no choice.

They made their way past the front door, the chime jingling above them. Just walking into the shop made him feel like he could finally breathe in fresh air. Ironic, since the mansion was probably healthier than city fumes. The place smelled like solder, old wires, and too many energy drinks, exactly how he left it. He didn’t actually expect anything to change, but it’s been a while since he’s been gone from his shop for so long.

He made his way behind the counter and paused when he saw Changbin following closely behind him. The man just raised an eyebrow in challenge, daring him to say no. And, well, Jeongin always went through with it when he was dared to do something.

Jeongin gestured toward the doorway hidden behind a curtain of hanging beads, the only thing separating the shop from the apartment. “My roommate’s probably having a minor breakdown right now, since I kinda vanished off the face of the planet. You didn’t let me warn him, remember? He gets twitchy. Maybe hang back?”

Changbin scoffed, but didn’t push, thank god, so Jeongin made his way back to the door that actually belonged to the apartment. He didn’t wait for muscles to change his mind.

He knocked once. Paused. Then twice fast.

The lock clicked almost instantly. The door creaked open a crack, just enough for a single dark eye to peer through.

Jeongin tilted his head slightly, a silent it’s me.

Felix glanced over his shoulder toward the shop counter, where Changbin's silhouette stood at the counter, then cut back to Jeongin through the crack in the door, low and cautious.

“You’re early,” he murmured.

“I said I’d come,” Jeongin whispered. “Let me in.”

A pause. Then the door swung open just enough for him to slip through.

“Remember, thirty minutes,” Changbin called from the other side, voice sharp.

“Love you too,” Jeongin muttered, already pulling the door shut behind him.

Inside, it smelled like overheated tech and instant coffee. The lights were dim, only half the ceiling panels working, just how they liked it.

The second the lock clicked into place, the tension drained out of him like someone popped a balloon.

And then Felix was on him.

He practically pounced on him, arms wrapping tight around his ribs, burying his face into Jeongin’s shoulder. They hit the floor in a clumsy heap, but Jeongin didn’t care. He held him close, knuckles white around the fabric of Felix’s hoodie.

God, he missed him. He missed him so fucking much. Tears pricked at his eyes before he could stop them. He let them fall, one arm curling tighter around Felix’s back, gently rocking them back and forth. It wasn’t really about the distance, though that did play a decent part in it. But it was because of why they were away from each other in the first place. They very well could be dead before they would be able to see each other again, and the anxiety was eating Jeongin alive. He wasn’t an affectionate person, Felix getting glimpses every so often, but he couldn't help but squeeze the poor boy until he made a squeak.

“Missed you so much,” he voiced his thoughts, his voice cracking. “I like the black hair, by the way. It looks good on you.”

Felix grabbed a lock, twisting it between his fingers. “You think? It doesn’t feel like me , though.”

“It will,” Jeongin said softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, then petting over it gently. “Soon as this shitstorm’s over, I’ll bleach both of ours. Maybe even go Oreo again, then we’ll match.”

Felix chuckled, fingers still in his hair. “Oh, please do, you always do a much better job than me.”

“I know,” Jeongin said, lips twitching. “I’m basically a licensed stylist at this point.”

Felix didn’t answer right away, just tightened his grip for a second. And Jeongin let the moment stretch, the weight of the last few days settle in the space between them. Here, in the low hum of the apartment, surrounded by half-dismantled tech, was the only place in the world that didn’t feel like it was trying to swallow him whole. And it was the one place he couldn’t afford to stay.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix, surprisingly, was the one who pulled away first.

He stood with a sigh, brushing off imaginary dust as he slumped into the chair by the workbench, arms crossed, brows knit with concern. “I thought you said Jisung was coming, which one was that guy?”

He let out a small snort. “Already professing your love for him, too. Where was this treatment when we met?”

“Changbin,” Jeongin muttered, ignoring that comment and making his way toward his bedroom. “And I didn’t have a choice. Jisung’s out by the car. You heard muscles over there, though. I’ve got maybe twenty minutes before he kicks the door in. They’re gonna search everything. You said you already wiped my files, right?”

“Of course I did, Innie. What do you take me for?” Felix leaned back, then added with a crooked grin, “But seriously? You should slip a porno mag with your ‘supplies’ just to fuck with them.”

Jeongin barked a laugh. “God, I missed you, Lixie. Jisung’ll probably find it in ten seconds, too. Let him. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

Felix reached under the counter and tossed him a small bag. “Already packed the clean gear. Triple-checked.”

Jeongin caught it with ease, slinging it over his shoulder as he drifted toward the coat rack. He grabbed his favorite hoodie, black and soft and full of holes. God, he missed this stupid thing. Giving it a quick shake, the smell hit him instantly. It smelled like Felix, like home. He had a sneaking suspicion that the older boy had worn it recently. He usually would’ve pitched a fit over it, but being separated made him mushy. He’d gladly welcome the smell right now. 

They seriously needed to work on their codependency when this was over.

He added a couple pairs of shorts, his most obnoxious graphic tees, and a few worn baseball caps that put a frat boy to shame. Then, with a sly grin, he slipped a few men’s magazines from Felix’s drawer into the side pocket. If they were going to rifle through his stuff, he might as well make it entertaining. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Felix, his mood dimming a little bit.

“Did you talk to G.D.?” Jeongin asked quietly, voice tight.

Felix paused. “He hasn’t noticed anything yet.”

That was both a relief and a threat. Jeongin nodded once, jaw tight.

“Time,” Changbin called through the crack in the door.

Jeongin tossed a last glance around the apartment. The shelves, the scattered screwdrivers, the photo strip of him and Felix tucked behind the monitor. He rolled the lollipop stick across his tongue one more time, then pulled it free and dropped it in the trash.

“That’s my cue,” he said to Felix, voice soft but certain. “Next time I leave, I’m not going back.”

Felix didn’t smile, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “Don’t get caught.”

Jeongin gave him a quick, tight hug, then pressed another kiss to the top of his head. He finished off with a mock salute and opened the door again. As soon as he left, he heard Felix shut the door behind him, locks clicking into place. Changbin gave him a look, but thankfully, he didn’t press. Jeongin didn’t know what he would say if he asked him, anyway.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung raised an eyebrow as soon as they stepped out of the shop. “What, no snacks?”

Jeongin smirked, shifting the strap of the duffel on his shoulder. “Didn’t feel like sharing.”

He climbed into the back seat without waiting for a response, the door shutting with a soft thunk. The moment he was in, he hugged the small duffel close. Jisung slid into the driver’s seat, giving him a quick glance. His eyes flicked down to the duffel, then forward again as the engine growled to life beneath them.

“You good?” he asked after a moment, voice low.

Jeongin leaned back, head hitting the window, a fresh lollipop tucked between his teeth, this one lemon. “Just peachy.”

As they pulled away from the curb, Jeongin didn’t look back. But he knew Felix would be watching from the upstairs window, just in case.

He always was.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

By the time they pulled through the compound gates again, the sun was starting to sink behind the trees, bleeding gold over the driveway and casting long shadows across the stone path. The SUV rolled to a slow stop outside the mansion, and not for the first time, Jeongin didn’t immediately reach for the door handle.

He stared out the window, still chewing on the now-fading lemon lollipop, the stick between his fingers. Jisung killed the engine and opened the door without a word. Changbin grunted and climbed out, stretching his arms above his head. Jeongin stayed where he was for another few seconds, then finally moved.

The front doors of the mansion opened before they reached them. Of course they did.

Hyunjin stood in the doorway, framed by the fading light, looking every bit the prince of STRAY in a black button-up and slacks, sleeves rolled just enough. His expression was unreadable, but Jeongin didn’t miss the subtle tension in the way he stood, arms crossed.

“Well?” Hyunjin asked.

Jisung shrugged. “He didn’t run, didn’t try anything. Pretty tame, all things considered.”

“High praise,” Jeongin muttered, stepping up beside him.

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to the duffel. “We’ll be checking that, of course.”

“Of course, Hyunjin-nim,” Jeongin said, tone light. He could barely contain the snicker trying to make its way out of his throat as he said, “I hope you like graphic novels.”

Hyunjin blinked once, then looked away like he couldn’t be bothered.

“You’re just in time,” he said instead. “Dinner’s being set up. You’re joining.”

Jeongin tilted his head. “Joining who?”

“The rest of STRAY, of course,” Hyunjin said. “It’s about time we had some bonding time with the soon-to-be member, don’t you agree?”

That made Jeongin freeze, just for a second. “All of them?”

Hyunjin gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Unless you’d rather go hungry.”

Behind him, Jisung groaned. “You couldn’t just let him go to his room? I’ve had my fair share of him for the next year.” 

“He’s had two days to settle,” Hyunjin said, already turning on his heel. “If he’s going to be living here, he eats with the family.”

Jeongin looked between them, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards. “That’s very cult of you.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Hyunjin called over his shoulder.

Jisung didn’t say anything, just pulled another cigarette from behind his ear and lit it as they walked in. Jeongin followed close behind, his heart thudding a little harder than it had all day.

And, for once, he actually agreed with Jisung. He was not ready for this at all. It was nerve-wracking enough keeping the facade up around just the 3 members he’d see the most, and now he had to fool six. He was so unbelievably screwed.

As soon as Jeongin reached the base of the stairs, Jisung all but snatched the duffel right off his shoulder with a muttered, “I’ll just be taking that,” already unzipping it mid-stride.

“No problem,” Jeongin said sweetly, barely hiding his grin.

Jisung paused, suspicious, but kept digging through the contents. Jeongin started up the stairs, dragging it out just enough to keep his audience.

“Just saying, though,” he added over his shoulder, “curiosity killed the cat.”

He didn’t have to look to know the exact second Jisung found it. The air went still,

Then: 

“What the fuck ,” Jisung breathed, his face going red from the neck up, the cigarette nearly falling from his lips.

Jeongin snorted.

Jisung’s head snapped up at him, eyes impossibly wide. Then came the real reward: Changbin leaned over for a peek, caught sight of the magazine, and recoiled like he’d been slapped.

“Dude,” he croaked, half-laughing, half-choking, turning away to cough into his fist.

Jeongin didn’t stick around for the aftermath. He bolted up the stairs two steps at a time, cackling all the way, leaving Jisung sputtering below. 

Best. Thirty minutes. Ever.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung stormed down the hallway, still burning up, duffel bag swinging violently from one hand, and the cigarette still burning between his teeth. Changbin trailed a few steps behind him, barely able to breathe through his high-pitched laughter.

“I swear to God,” Jisung snapped, pushing open the sitting room doors without knocking, “I’m going to kill that kid.”

Inside, Hyunjin looked up from the papers he’d been reviewing at the long dining table. Minho was perched on the arm of the couch, swirling a glass of something dark and expensive. Seungmin sat beside him, phone in one hand, half a smirk already forming like he could smell the drama coming. And Chan, good old Chan, raised both brows with a calm, tired expression that screamed What did he do now ?

“Which kid?” Hyunjin asked, voice flat, though the amused glint in his eye betrayed him.

“Guess,” Jisung growled, slamming the duffel down onto the table like it had personally offended him. “He put porn in his bag. Porn , Hyunjin. Right next to his shorts.”

There was a pause, a beat of stunned silence before Changbin finally lost it, letting out a wheeze as he practically folded in half behind him. “You should’ve seen his face,” he choked, gripping the doorframe for support. “Like he was the one being violated.”

Seungmin snorted. “Please tell me it was the weird vintage kind.”

“ 1993 collector’s edition ,” Jisung hissed, rubbing his temples like he was moments from losing all composure. “I thought I was pulling out a hoodie, and I got that .”

Minho didn’t even try to hide his laugh. “Honestly? He’s growing on me.”

Jisung looked like he was two seconds from combusting. “Why would he even have this? I mean– okay, I know why he has it, but why would he bring it here ? Why would he risk me finding it?”

“Because he wanted you to,” Hyunjin snickered, not immune to a good prank. “And clearly, it worked.”

“Oh, it worked,” Changbin laughed. “Jisung turned redder than the cover model’s hair. Didn’t think he had a thing for gingers, I'll be honest.”

“I hate all of you,” Jisung muttered, rubbing his temples. “He’s doing this on purpose. He wants me to snap.”

Chan, bless his heart, actually looked sympathetic. “Did you find anything that actually matters, at least?”

“No,” Jisung muttered, shoulders slumping. “No trackers, no hidden drives, no suspicious tools. Just a bunch of clothes, some candy, and trauma,” he let out a dramatic shudder at that.

“Then he’s smarter than he looks,” Hyunjin sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Which means you’re going to have to stay on your toes.”

“Dinner’s in ten, by the way,” Seungmin added casually. “Hyunjin already told you he wants all of us there.”

Jisung groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Can I skip?”

“No,” Hyunjin said.

“Can I poison him?”

“No.”

Changbin was still laughing when he pushed off the wall and made for the hallway again. “Better eat fast, Jisungie. I hear lollipops pair great with vintage jock straps.”

They could hear him cackling as he walked away, muttering to no one in particular, “Gay baiting the head of security, ballsy little shit.”

Jisung let out a strangled noise, Minho nearly choking on his drink.

And in the hallway above, completely undetected, Jeongin slipped away to his room, smiling like the devil himself.

Jeongin stood in front of the mirror above the vanity, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a lollipop while eyeing the pathetic selection of clothes he’d brought back from the shop. He could technically wear whatever was in the closet, but that felt too formal, even though the rest would definitely be wearing much fancier outfits.

One hoodie, two pairs of shorts, and three graphic tees, all of which said something too vaguely offensive to pass for dinner-appropriate –probably shouldn’t wear that– and a stack of baseball caps, as well as random pairs of shirts and pants he shoved in without looking. And then there was the shirt with the oil-stained cover model folded neatly inside it. That one was staying in the bottom of the duffel where it belonged. Probably forever.

He sighed, tossing one t-shirt onto the counter. It was nothing Hyunjin would appreciate at a formal-ish sit-down.

In the end, he pulled on the plainest thing he had: black jeans that were just a little ripped at the knee, and a soft, oversized black button-up that still smelled like home, along with his usual silver chain. Clean, simple, not trying too hard. 

He gave himself one last look, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Passable,” he muttered. “You look passable. No one stab me, yeah?”

As if summoned by pure comedic timing, there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, kid,” came Changbin’s voice, smug and amused. “Dinner time. You decent? Nice prank, by the way.”

Jeongin popped the lollipop stick out of his mouth, grabbing another and shoving it into his pocket. “My pleasure. You gonna cry if I look better than you?”

Changbin let out a short snort. “You’d have to try harder than that, pretty boy.”

Jeongin opened the door with a sarcastic little bow. “Lead the way, muscles.”

Changbin gave him a once-over, raising a brow. “Black on black? Real edgy of you.”

“Says the man who lives in muscle tees.” Jeongin gestured dramatically down the hall. “After you.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the muffled sounds of their steps swallowed by the plush hall carpet. Jeongin could feel his nerves creeping up again the closer they got to the dining room. He had to deal with six members now, and there was nowhere to hide. But hey, at least he looked okay-ish. He could already tell he was going to be underdressed compared to everyone else just by Changbin’s outfit, but he expected that.

They entered the dining room, and he felt like he was going to have a mini heart attack every time he discovered a different room in the mansion. The table was long, a sleek black slab of wood lit by a chandelier that looked like it cost more than Jeongin’s entire tech shop. The place was already loud when he walked in with Changbin. Someone (probably Seungmin) had started sniping across the table, and someone else (definitely Jisung) had already taken it personally.

“Don’t sit near me if you’re gonna keep chewing like that,” Seungmin was saying, chopsticks halfway to his mouth as he glared across the table.

“I’m literally just eating,” Jisung snapped back.

“With your mouth open.”

“It’s soup!”

“ Exactly. How do you even manage that?”

Minho, seated calmly beside Jisung with the blankest expression ever, muttered, “I told you not to sit next to him.”

“You told me ten seconds too late,” Jisung grumbled, stabbing a dumpling like it had personally offended him.

Jeongin stood awkwardly near the doorway, watching it all unravel with a sort of stunned admiration. This was not what he had in mind when he thought of the mafia, the same one who was inevitably going to be the death of him. He should have known that, considering the dynamic he had going on with the three others, but it’s human nature to make assumptions.

 Then Hyunjin glanced up from his seat at the head of the table and gestured toward the empty chair beside him. “Jeongin. Over here.”

Chan, seated on the other side of the empty spot, smiled warmly. “We don’t bite.”

“That’s a lie,” Seungmin muttered.

“Yeah, I was gonna say,” Jeongin said, slipping into the chair with a wary glance around. “Could’ve sworn my life got threatened less than ten minutes ago.”

“Next time, don’t traumatize me,” Jisung muttered, face heating up again.

At least it worked. Jeongin could deal with being a little embarrassed if it meant Jisung was suffering. Still, he smirked.

“See? I feel so welcomed.”

Hyunjin poured him a glass of soju. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”

He blinked at the glass, momentarily stunned. It definitely wasn’t his first time drinking, a stack of Fake IDS still on his desk at home, but still. Surely they knew his age, right? He internally smacked his head. Why would they care? It was the damn mafia, they had definitely done worse than letting some underage stray drink some alcohol. He grabbed the glass, taking a sip and smirking towards himself. STRAY brought a stray home. Maybe that’s why they chose stray of all names. Then again, every mafia he was aware of in Seoul had some weird name to it.

Jeongin resisted the urge to make a snide comment and focused on his plate instead. The food actually looked amazing: steamed rice, glazed pork belly, and vegetables sautéed in something that smelled like garlic heaven. He was never going to get used to this. No, he wasn’t getting used to this because he wasn’t staying . They made it hard to stay on task. He shook away the thought, focusing on something else.

Across the table, Changbin had slid into a chair next to Seungmin, nudging him with a knee under the table and smirking. “You missed me, admit it.”

Seungmin didn’t even blink. “I missed not hearing your voice, and then you showed up.”

“Cold,” Chan commented with a laugh, passing around kimchi .

“It’s his love language,” Changbin said proudly, tossing an arm around Seungmin’s chair. “Verbal abuse. I’m fluent.”

Seungmin shoved him off, but didn’t move away. Not really. “Bold to say it's a love language. And if I’m verbal, he’s physical. You pick which one’s worse.”

Changbin gasped, hand clutching at his chest. “I am not physically abusive!”

Seungmin just glanced at him for a moment before going back to his rice. “Half the time you’re around me, you’re throwing me into a headlock.”

“And?” Changbin scoffed, “You love it.”

Seungmin’s face went a little pink, but he didn’t deny it.

Jisung made a noise like he was choking on a spoon.  “Oh, gag me–” 

Minho leaned in and murmured something into Jisung’s ear, effectively cutting him off mid-rant. Whatever it was made Jisung’s mouth snap shut, the blush from before growing tenfold.

“You’re annoying,” Jisung muttered, no real bite behind it.

Minho sipped his drink, completely unaffected. “You’re dating me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Mutual, sweetheart.”

Jeongin blinked, clearly missing several chapters. “Wait, you two are a thing?”

“You’re late,” Seungmin said dryly.

“I was kidnapped. ”

Hyunjin leaned toward him slightly, completely ignoring the comment. There was a hint of amusement as he explained, “If you’re trying to keep track, Changbin and Seungmin have been bickering since college, and we’re all waiting for when they finally make it official. Minho and Jisung might fight like they’re divorced, but they’re probably the most stable relationship I’ve seen.

“Chan is married to this work,” He smiled faintly. “And I’m the one who has to put up with it all.”

Chan leaned over and very loudly whispered to Jeongin, “He’s single because he’s terrifying.”

“I’m selective, ” Hyunjin corrected.

“Terrifying,” Chan repeated.

Jeongin couldn’t help but snort, quickly covering his mouth with his sleeve. When he peeked over at Hyunjin, the man was watching him with an amused smile. 

“Well,” Jeongin said, taking a bite of rice, “if I’m gonna be here awhile, at least I know dinner will always be entertaining.”

He felt guilty saying things like that, knowing what was in store for tomorrow. They wouldn’t understand, or maybe they would, considering he’s a stranger and they don’t know where his loyalties lie, but he couldn’t explain the ache in his chest. He’d never gotten attached to anyone so fast, not even Felix had wormed his way into his heart so quickly. He suddenly lost his appetite, but he shoved the rice into his mouth anyway, figuring it’d be rude.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Seungmin scoffed. “Things are calm tonight, compared to how we are usually.”

“Great,” Jeongin muttered, already reaching for the soju again.

Next to him, Chan just grinned and topped off his glass. “Welcome to STRAY.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Dinner ended with Seungmin flicking vegetables at Changbin and Jisung nearly choking from laughter when Minho deadpanned something about “selective breeding.” It was so absurd Jeongin thought he might be dreaming. He wasn’t a recluse, but he wasn’t used to being around many people aside from Felix.

Eventually, the others filtered out, Changbin dragging Seungmin away by the neck, Seungmin threatening him the entire time, and Jisung stumbling out with a half-smile, having too much to drink. Jeongin lingered, unsure why. Maybe because it felt normal in here, maybe because it wouldn't last. Might as well enjoy the moment before tomorrow.

Only Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho stayed behind.

Chan cleared plates without being asked, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Hyunjin remained seated at the head of the table, swirling wine in his glass. Minho had taken up post near the large window, backlit by the darkening sky.

Jeongin hovered awkwardly by the edge of the room, unsure whether to sit or head back to his room. He was planning to escape quietly when Hyunjin looked up.

“You’re not in a rush, are you?” Hyunjin asked, tone light, but there was something he couldn’t place in it. 

Caught, Jeongin gave a small shrug, shifting on his feet. “Didn’t know if you were done with me.”

“Well, we’re not letting you go just yet,” Chan chuckled, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Hyunjin set his glass down, waving him over. “Come here.”

Jeongin hesitated but walked over to him, sitting back down beside the head of the table. Soon after, Chan and Minho joined, sitting next to and across from him. He was boxed in, he belatedly realized. He was sure it was on purpose, too. It was silent for a moment, tense, before Chan broke through it, giving him a reassuring smile.

“So, Jeongin, tell us about yourself.”

Jeongin started to bounce his leg, but someone’s hand – Chan’s – held his leg in place. He immediately stopped, coughing. The hand didn’t stay after that, and he hoped his ears weren’t as pink as they felt, but by the look on the older man’s face, he’d say it didn’t come true. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to share,” Hyunjin said smoothly, picking up his glass again. “We’ve been curious.”

“Uhm, well– I’m twenty, but I'm sure you all already knew that.” he clears his throat, scratching at the edge of the table. “I’m in university for tech. Or, I was. Missed the last two days, obviously.”

“Understandable,” Chan said with a nod.

Jeongin kept going, trying to sound casual. “I’m an orphan. Grew up in the system. My, uh… roommate and I have been living behind the shop for what, two years now? Yeah, two. I do most of the repairs while he runs the front.”

He didn’t usually talk about himself this much. Before being fucking kidnapped , aside from college, he was mainly around Felix and computer screens. Being in the spotlight all of a sudden made his skin itch. This was unnerving in so many ways.

“Your roommate, what’s his name?” Minho spoke up, suddenly way too focused. Jeongin can practically see the detective in him slipping through. 

Shit, he shouldn’t have brought Felix up. Bad, bad, bad . Jeongin’s heart stuttered, and he blurted out the first English name that came to mind: “Chris.”

There was a beat of silence before Chan’s hand smacked the table, startling Jeongin. “No way, that’s my English name! Is he a foreigner, too? I’m from Australia,” he beamed, dimples in his cheeks sticking out.

Jeongin blinked at him, “Seriously?” Well, there’s no reason to lie about his nationality, right? It wouldn’t make a difference since he wasn’t in the system anyway. “Err, yeah, he’s Australian, too.”

“Small world,” Chan mused, sipping his water.

“Heheh, yeah..” Jeongin scratched the back of his neck, picking at scar tissue. They wouldn’t mind if he had a lollipop right now, right? Fuck it . He pulled one out from his pocket, butterscotch, and shoved the wrapper back into his pocket before placing it between his teeth. He calmed a bit at that, focusing on keeping his mouth busy.

Minho watched the motion closely. “You’re a bit old for a sugar addiction.”

“It’s not really about the sugar. Call it a coping mechanism,” Jeongin said around the stick, flashing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s becoming harder to act cocky.

Chan chuckled. “There are definitely worse vices out there.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin murmured, swirling the wine in his glass without sipping. “Like lying.”

Jeongin’s eyes snapped to his.

But Hyunjin didn’t push. He simply took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. 

He tried to keep his tone light, but he started biting a little harder on the lollipop. “Well, I guess I’m in the clear, then.”

Minho leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “What made you get into tech in the first place?”

Jeongin hesitated. That answer seemed safe, at least. “Um, well, Chris bought me and him flip phones when we were both in foster care, in case we needed the other when we were separated. I forgot to mention that, didn’t I? Yeah, Chris and I grew up together. He, uh, noticed I liked tech, so he brought me a couple of broken phones to mess around with.” He rolled the lollipop slowly between his teeth. “I tore them apart and put them back together, fixing whatever issue there was, and he figured out how to make a profit off it. That’s how we got the shop running.”

He didn’t realize how quiet the room had gotten until he stopped talking.

“That’s a good reason,” Chan said gently.

Hyunjin was watching him again, but this time it felt less judgmental. “Sounds like your shop means a lot to you.”

“It does,” Jeongin said, too fast. He forced a breath through his nose and leaned back in his seat. “It’s ours; no one gave it to us. We built it up from scraps and old rent, and it’s the only home I’ve ever had.”

“You and Chris ,” Minho said softly, like he was checking the name again.

“Yeah.” Jeongin didn’t flinch this time. “We’re a good team.”

“And you trust him?” Hyunjin asked. There it was, the loaded question.

Jeongin met Hyunjin’s gaze and didn’t blink, tilting his head slightly. “Got no reason not to. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for him.”

Silence again.

Chan finally stretched, cracking his knuckles. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. And a sharp tongue.”

“Well, forgive me; I’m used to being around screens, not people.”

“Touché, Jisung’s the same way.” He stood and began gathering a few stray dishes left behind. “We’ll get someone to cover for the classes you missed, if you want to keep that part of your life going.”

Jeongin’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”

“You’re not exactly going anywhere for the time being,” Hyunjin said. “Might as well keep your brain sharp.”

“Unless you prefer doing nothing,” Minho added dryly.

“No,” Jeongin said, sitting straighter. “I want that.”

He froze for a second in his seat, hopefully going unnoticed. What was he saying? He wasn’t staying here. Chances are that, after this, he wasn’t even going to be able to go to college, anyway. They’d stalk him down before he made it through the campus doors. But he couldn’t say no either. This is just a weird form of method acting, totally. Snap out of it .

Chan gave a small nod. “Then we’ll make it happen.”

Hyunjin rose from his seat, stretching his arms over his head with a soft sigh. “You’ve had a long day, go rest. We still need you for tomorrow.”

“Right,” Jeongin rose and gave a small bow. “Thanks. For dinner.”

Chan grinned. “At least someone in this house has some manners.”

Minho muttered on his way out, “Shut up, Dad.” clearly headed toward wherever Jisung was.

Jeongin offered a weak smile in return, gave the two left one last look, and made his way out. He could still feel their eyes on his back as he left.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin shut the door to his room with more force than necessary.

His back hit the wood a second later, head tipping back with a quiet thud against it. He let out a shaky breath, trying to get his bearings together. 

He was still shaking. Not visibly, but enough that he didn’t trust his hands with anything delicate. Dinner hadn’t been a disaster, technically. He hadn’t tripped up, but it felt like anytime he spoke, people were testing everything that left his mouth. He was, too, in a way. God, what would Felix think if he saw him getting along with them so well? They were planning on murdering his hyung, and here he was, playing family and talking about the future with them. He was an asshole. Not only to Felix, but to STRAY as well. He didn’t like the internal dilemma he was going through.

Maybe he really did have early-onset Stockholm Syndrome, because he had no doubt that they were watching him this very second. All of them. Some with more kindness than others, sure, but it didn’t matter. If the truth slipped out, which it would no matter what tomorrow, none of that would save him. They’d know where his loyalties lie, and it wasn’t with them.

He crossed the room in three quick strides, dropping onto the bed and pulling the duffel bag toward him. It was still where he’d left it earlier, under the edge of the nightstand. He dug out the crumpled hoodie, pressing it to his face for a long moment. It smelled like the shop, cheap detergent, and most importantly, Felix’s cologne.

Christ, he missed him. Even for just that half hour, it hadn’t been long enough. But he didn’t call him tonight. They both had to get ready for the auction, and Felix had to deal with way more than him. And he felt too guilty to do that. How could he explain that he was growing fond of the same people gunning for Felix’s head?

He didn’t even bother changing out of his clothes, curling around the hoodie, tucking it close to his chest, and leaving his nose buried into the fabric. He didn’t remember when, but he fell asleep at some point, worrying about what awaited him the next day.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Hyunjin stood with his arms folded as the screen flickered. The room was dim, lit mostly by the soft glow of surveillance monitors. They’d been in this room more often this week. Everyone was piled in, watching the footage in front of them. Each feed showed a different angle within the room. 

“Jeongin’s in,” Jisung muttered from where he sat at the monitor, eyes flicking across the keyboard. “He hasn’t moved much.”

They had all met up after dinner. The wine had just been a cover for most of them to be able to slip away, so everyone was sober, watching as the boy had collapsed onto the bed the second he got back, not even bothering to change.

His arms were wrapped tightly around something. Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at the fabric, catching the faded print of an old hoodie as Jeongin pulled it closer, face buried in the worn cloth like it was a lifeline.

“What’s that?” Changbin asked, chewing the edge of a protein bar with little interest. “Looks like a rag.”

“That’s not a rag to him ,” Minho said quietly, stepping closer to the monitor. “That’s comfort. Look at his grip.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for a while. He just watched.

Jeongin looked small in that bed. Not physically; he was wiry, sure, but he was grown. But like that, curled up and clutching onto the hood like he might unravel without it, he looked actually looked his age. Young and vulnerable.

“You think he’s lying?” Chan asked softly, tone void of any judgment. It was the question they were all dancing around.

Jisung leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “Oh, one hundred percent.”

“He’s hiding something,” Minho agreed, arms crossed. “But I don’t have enough information yet to figure out what. He didn’t seem too bothered when I pressed him about his roommate.”

“ ‘ Chris ,’ ” Changbin said with a scoff. “What a terrible name.”

Chan huffed faintly, no bite behind it. “Rude.”

Changbin ignored him. “All I’m saying is, if Chris meant so much to him, why has he been a ghost this whole week? He supposedly works at the front, and yet, no one’s seen anyone there except Jeongin. This is way too convenient, in my opinion.”

Hyunjin finally spoke, his voice even. “He’s not some trained spy, guys, he’s scared.”

They all looked at him.

“He's scared,” Hyunjin repeated, watching the monitor as Jeongin’s breathing evened out, hand still grasping at the hoodie. “But not for himself.”

A long silence followed.

Jisung was the one who broke it this time, tone more serious. “You still think he’s working with someone?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer at first. He reached forward, adjusting the camera feed to zoom in a fraction on Jeongin’s sleeping form. “I think… he’s not here by choice. But I don’t think he wants to hurt us.”

“You’re being optimistic,” Minho warned.

Hyunjin’s expression didn’t shift. “I’m being realistic. If we treat him like a threat, he’ll become one.”

Chan hummed low in his throat, thoughtful. “And if we treat him like family?”

“Then maybe,” Hyunjin said, gaze still locked on the screen, “he won’t want to betray us.”

The others were quiet after that, only the low buzz of the monitors filled the air as Jeongin shifted slightly, curling tighter around the hoodie, a slight frown creasing his brows even in sleep.

Hyunjin watched a moment longer, then turned away.

“Keep the feed running,” he said, voice smooth but firm as he walked out the door. “And if he leaves that room tonight, I want to know.”

Jisung gave a small nod, and he was gone.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Morning came too fast.

Felix sat in front of the mirror, towel slung around his shoulders, hair still damp from taking a shower. The dark brown looked wrong on him, even though the color had turned out smooth, natural. Expensive, even. He looked like someone else. That was the point, of course, but fuck, he missed the blonde already.

The color had been his , wearing it for more than a decade now. It was loud, golden, soft. Something people remembered. Something he could use. Now, he just looked… normal. That was the point, but it wasn’t what he was used to. He was Yonbok , the thief who’d run circles around the elite for years, and now he looked normal . It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He reached for the brush, dragging it slowly through his hair. His eyes flicked up toward the mirror, studying the new stranger looking back at him. He wasn’t going to bleach it again for a while, not until this whole thing was over, but he still mourned the glow he used to have.

“Felix,” he whispered to himself under his breath, testing the name again. “Kim Felix .”

It didn’t sit right in his mouth. Not only was he not used to the last name, but the only person who still called him Felix was Jeongin, and now, everyone would. He should’ve picked a better Alias, but he was rushing and didn’t think it through. Stupid. 

He set the brush aside and picked up the tiny vial of braid wax, warming it between his fingers before reaching up. He parted a narrow strip of hair near his left temple and began weaving it tight and flat against his scalp, fingers moving with ease through the locks. He used to braid his maknae’s hair when they were younger, and it was familiar to him.

The braid served two purposes. First , it gave him some of that edge he missed. Made him feel like himself, even if his reflection didn’t. Being around G.D. had rubbed off on him, and he’s always needed flair. Second , it kept the wire in place, nestled beneath the hairline and tucked just beneath the lobe, where the earpiece sat hidden behind thick waves of dark brown. That way, Jeongin could give him directions if he got lost or a warning if they were onto him. He adjusted it, checking the mirror again, then walked to the living room. Still in his towel, he opened the navy garment bag draped across the back of the couch.

The suit was everything he could’ve asked for with his budget, which was a bit high for him. It was navy with a satin collar, crisp lapels, and a slim cut that framed him just right. The fabric hugged his shoulders and draped off his waist. Even if those tailors had been assholes, he could admit they did a good job. When he slipped it on, he tugged the sleeves gently to smooth them out, fastening the buttons. The white shirt underneath was crisp, the collar’s edge clean. The gold cufflinks clicked softly into place.

Walking back into the bathroom, he started with makeup. He left his freckles visible, only putting foundation over the bullet graze. G.D. had offered to have them lasered out once. Too distinct, he’d said, but Felix had refused. If he started removing pieces of himself, there’d be nothing left to put back when this was over. He hid them around G.D., though, and most missions. If they did recognize him, the freckles and brown hair would be a kind of shield. Plausible deniability. Even if they got a clearer shot of his face in the security feed, it’d still be blurry enough to let him off the hook.

He fastened the last piece: the golden Rolex he’d slipped from the businessman. It wasn’t too flashy, but it was just enough to imply money.

Then he took a breath.

The apartment was still. Jeongin was gone, probably trapped back in the mansion again. He didn’t call last night, but Felix could take a wild guess as to why. At least he got to see him before this all went down. He could only hope to see him again.

He glanced once at the duffel he’d packed the night before. Inside was everything he needed: forged ID, the bid paddle G.D. had left for him in a velvet envelope, and the tools he'd need for the basement. They were all small enough that he could slip them into his pockets and no one would notice, so he didn’t look like a weirdo walking into an auction house with a bag like that. He reached down, carefully pulling on the shoes that came with the suit; clean leather, sharp-toed, and he took great care tucking a knife into the back of his right shoe.

Then he stood, taking one last look in the mirror. His braid was neat. The rest of his hair curled slightly, falling just enough to shadow the earpiece. His jaw was clean-shaven, eyes sharp. His heart was beating faster than he’d like, too, but he ignored that part.

“ You’ve probably done worse ,” he muttered in English, adjusting the collar. Innie didn’t speak English, so he only spoke it to himself. It was comforting, in a way, but he couldn’t help but miss Australia from time to time.

And it was true, he had been on more missions than he could count now, and in the five years he worked under G.D., the man had put his life in danger weekly. What did he say when they first met? Right, that he had been expendable . His safety was never a concern for the man, and Felix didn’t know why he had fooled himself into thinking that. Last time he’d trust someone who talked of family . The only family he had was Jeongin, and that wasn’t going to change.

But this mission felt bigger to him, for good reason. Not just because of G.D., or the payout, or the location, or even the fucking mafia getting on his ass over this. But because this time, if he slipped up, it wasn’t just his life on the line.

It was Jeongin’s, his baby brother. Everything they’d built, everything they fought for, would be over. He tried so hard to keep him out of this, and it had been for nothing. So he couldn’t fail, no matter what.

Stepping out of the shop, he moved toward the alley where the rental car G.D. had gotten him in preparation waited. It was a sleek Genesis G70 , polished to a mirror sheen. It was expensive enough not to stand out for being too poor, but was subtle enough not to stand out for the opposite reason, either. Perfect for the crowd he'd be mingling with tonight. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he synced his phone to the Bluetooth, the screen glowing pale blue in the dim light.

He adjusted the rearview mirror, caught his own eyes for a beat too long, then hit play.

Tick Tock by Day6 poured through the speakers, melancholy and rhythmic. It was a song that always hit harder on nights like these. He shifted into drive and pulled onto the road, heading for Gangnam, murmuring a quiet prayer to a god who hadn’t answered in years.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin jolted awake, a scream clawing at the back of his throat, his heart hammering like it wanted out of his chest.  Sweat clung to him, the button-up shirt glued uncomfortably to his back. His hand was still clasped tightly into the hoodie, and he brought it back up to his nose again, the smell of his hyung still clinging to it. He couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming about, but it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. He counted it as a blessing. 

The jeans were digging into his hips, unforgiving in the way they left creases in his skin from shifting so much in his sleep. He wished he hadn’t decided to leave them on last night. Boxers would’ve been better than that. He groaned as he sat up, spine cracking, the scarred skin pulling awkwardly at the movement. Every part of him ached, and he wanted to go back to bed. He felt like he had been run over by a train, and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to get better.

He made his way to the bathroom, stripping without ceremony, leaving the sweat-drenched fabric in a sad pile on the tile. He turned the faucet until the water ran steaming hot and sat on the cold floor as the tub filled, still in his briefs, staring at the ceiling. 

He didn’t feel strong this morning. Didn’t feel clever, or capable, or anything remotely useful. He wasn’t ready for this. He tried being cocky, being strong, but a tear broke out from his eyes anyway. He didn’t react, didn’t even scrunch his face up. 

He was going to die today. 

He’d been in denial the last couple of days, but it’s hard to do that when it’s plastered everywhere in front of him. He needed to face the facts sooner or later. In this case, later, he guessed.

But the fact was, the plan wasn’t built for him to survive. It never had been. Felix may not have realised that, but he did. How would he? He was going to be with the syndicate, and he didn’t have a way to get out alive. But he could make sure Felix did. If there was one thing he could do right, it would be that. He let out a sad snort. It would be the last thing he did.

He was only twenty, and his life was already over. He didn’t know what he was expecting; to be honest, he should’ve been dead ages ago. He had a good run, for what it was worth, and he wouldn’t trade what he had for anything. The only thing he’d do differently is try harder to convince Felix not to go on that mission that started this whole mess. Or maybe he would’ve kept Felix home the day he met G.D.

Fuck G.D.

The tub was nearly full. He slipped off the last piece of clothing and stepped in, sinking beneath the scalding water. The heat seared his back, but he didn’t flinch. Turning on the jets, he stared up at the ceiling, mind emptying once again like the steam was wringing it clean.

Eventually, he sat up, drained the tub, and turned on the shower. He scrubbed himself raw, skin pink and stinging, then moved to the vanity, towel around his waist. He flicked through the too-expensive skincare bottles, using whatever seemed necessary. He recognized some of the items from Felix’s collection. He always had the expensive taste out of the two of them. But hey, he was a dead man walking, why not look pretty, too? He looked into the mirror, noting his eyes were swollen, rimmed red. He could pass that off as sleep deprivation if anyone asked. When he finished, he brushed his teeth with a bit of unnecessary force and took his belongings and a robe, stepping back into the bedroom.

He shuffled through the duffle bag, pulling one of his black cargo shorts out and pairing Felix’s hoodie with it. He grabbed a handful of lollipops like always, shoving them into his pocket along with the earpiece from underneath his pillow carefully.

Then made his way back into the bathroom and grabbed the tracker from underneath the vanity.  He slipped it into the lining of his shorts and adjusted it twice until it sat flush against his hipbone. He made sure to grab his glasses, figuring he should probably keep his eyesight clear today, and made his way out the door and into the hallway.

The hallway was quiet when Jeongin stepped out, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he thought he might have a chance to at least eat breakfast alone. That hope was swiftly crushed when he turned the corner and nearly collided head-on with Minho. If it weren’t for him already being on edge, he would’ve butt heads.

He staggered back half a step, heart trying to jump out of his chest. It was way too fucking early for jumpscares. Minho, of course, didn’t flinch. He simply sidestepped like he’d been expecting it and held out a cup of iced coffee to the side, entirely unbothered.

“Just the person I was looking for,” he said, voice characteristically smooth.

Jeongin ignored him, pointing to the cup, “Where’d you get that?”

Minho blinked, then blinked again. He pointed in the direction of the kitchen behind him. “I’ll make you some.” He gestured vaguely behind him, then turned on his heel and walked off without checking if he was following. He didn’t need to, anyway, since Jeongin still felt like any second he was going to drop.

Inside the kitchen, Minho moved with quiet ease. Jeongin sat on his usual spot on the counter, while Minho busied himself at the coffee machine. It was silent for a moment, no one finding the need to speak up. 

Eventually, Minho turned around and gave Jeongin one of those crooked smirks he wore that probably got him slapped in high school. “Since you’re clearly a sugar addict, how much do you want in it?”

 “Just milk and ice is fine, thanks.” Jeongin gave a weak huff, waving him off. “I rot my teeth enough on my own.”

Minho nodded, fixed the drink accordingly, and handed it over without fanfare. Then he turned to the stove, cracking an egg one-handed and calling over his shoulder, “Anything you’re craving?”

Jeongin took a sip, grateful for the chill. The caffeine would be a much needed wake up call for later. “Whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

After blinking some of the sleep out of his eyes, he spoke up again, words escaping before he could stop them. “I just figured mafia people had, like… chefs. You know, someone to cook and maybe wipe your ass while they’re at it.”

The words were barely out before he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god,” he groaned into his palm. “It’s too early. I don’t have a filter yet.”

Much to his relief, Minho just laughed at that, glancing over his shoulder with a look that was equal parts entertained and exasperated.

 Jeongin gave a sheepish bow, both apologetic and embarrassed.

“I mean,” Minho said, turning back to the pan, “I don’t know if you noticed, but we don't have the most conventional way of hiring. Plus, it’s a pain in the ass when they try to go to the cops.”

He sighed dramatically, stirring whatever was sizzling on the stove. “They see the head detective at the table and somehow still think the police aren't corrupt. Complete idiots.”

Jeongin let out a tired chuckle, his hands loosening around the coffee mug.

“It’s just easier to keep the staff minimal,” Minho continued. “We’ve only got like a handful of them, and every one of them knows the risks. It’s less messy both ways– if you get what I mean.”

He glanced back, a little smug now. “Besides, I’m a damn good cook. Why waste the talent?”

Jeongin scoffed, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he muttered.

He didn’t bother trying to filter his words anymore. Minho didn’t seem to have a problem with it, and it’s his last day living, might as well go out mouthy.

“You’re lucky you’re growing on me, kid,” Minho said, plating something with practiced ease. “I’ll be sure to let everyone know the maknae’s grouchy in the morning, don’t worry.”

Jeongin groaned. “What do you mean I’m the maknae now? Am I ever gonna meet someone younger than me?” He paused. “Wait, who was it before? Jisung?”

“Nah. Technically, Seungmin’s younger by a week. September 22nd. Jisung’s the 14th.”

Jeongin blinked, processing that, then gave a small, surprised hum.

 “Something wrong?” Minho asked, tossing rice into the pan with a hiss.

“Hyung’s birthday is on September 15th.”

Minho glanced up, brow quirked. “Chris?”

Jeongin blinked up at him, momentarily confused. Who the hell is Chris? Then it clicked, and he remembered the night before. Minho no doubt noticed it, and before he could use his detective skills on him, he came up with a lie on the spot.

“Forgot I told you guys his name,” he mumbled quickly, lifting his mug to his face. “Yeah. Chris.”

Before Minho could pry, soft footsteps entered the kitchen, and both of them looked up.  A glance toward the doorway told him it was Hyunjin.

He looked too put-together for this early in the morning: tailored slacks, a black button-down only half-buttoned at the top, hair slicked back like he hadn’t just rolled out of bed. He looked like he’d been up for a couple of hours already.

“Morning,” Hyunjin said smoothly, his gaze sweeping across the room before landing on Jeongin. “You’re up early.”

Jeongin gave a one-shoulder shrug, sipping his coffee like it might hide him. “Yeah.”

Hyunjin walked in further, pausing to pour himself a glass of water from the dispenser. “Did you sleep?”

“I guess so,” Jeongin muttered.

Minho snorted as he stirred the pan. “That bad, huh?”

“A little stressed about today,” Jeongin said honestly, thumb rubbing along the ceramic mug. “Can you blame me?”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything at first. He just took a quiet sip of water, then leaned against the counter across from Jeongin.

“If it makes you feel better, we’re all a bit stressed out,” he said quietly, not unkindly. “Don’t focus on it too hard, you’ll be fine.”

Jeongin nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself. Yeah, well, you all are stressed for entirely different reasons. Hard not to focus on my last day living , he thought distantly.

Still, he nodded. “Thanks.”

Hyunjin’s silence was all the answer he needed.

Minho broke the tension by sliding a plate toward Jeongin, where rice, soft eggs, and some kind of savory stir-fry that smelled too good sat.  “Eat. You’ll be useless if you pass out halfway through the day.”

Jeongin grabbed the pair of chopsticks, muttering a quiet, “Thank you.” He hesitated, then added, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Minho shrugged, pouring himself another coffee. “Didn’t do it for you.”

“Liar,” Jeongin said, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Hyunjin didn’t smile, but he looked at Jeongin with something softer now. “You’ll need the energy,” he said simply. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Jeongin nodded slowly. His stomach was twisting again, but he forced himself to take a bite. At the very least, if today was the day everything went to hell, he could say he had one good breakfast before it did.

Chapter Text

When Felix pulled up to the auction house, he was momentarily stunned. 

He’d seen the blueprints, memorized the layout, even looked up the location online to give him a feel of what he was walking into, but none of it prepared him for what it looked like in person. The entire building had been transformed into something that didn’t belong in this city: sleek, opulent, almost dreamlike. Morning sun spilled across the glass-paneled entrance, casting golden streaks down polished marble steps. Uniformed valets lined the curb like soldiers,  accepting keys and guiding luxury vehicles with little to no breaks as high-end cars pulled up one after another, each more expensive than the last. He could only hope his rental wouldn’t stand out too much.

Felix adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, fingers twitching slightly. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, making sure his hair was still in place and covering the earpiece, as well as the bullet graze. He isn’t too worried about that one, but concealer could only work so well. Hopefully, no one would be looking that closely. He pulled up with the line, and when it was his turn, he eased the car to the curb and stepped out smoothly, handing off the keys without a word or a glance. The valet took them without question. Felix didn’t bother watching him drive off. He wouldn’t need the car after this, anyway. He didn’t need them to track him afterwards, so he planned to leave on foot. The only time he ever brought cars with him was when he had Jeongin, because he would never try to drag the kid around the city with him. It was too risky.

He slipped into the queue with ease, double-checking that the fake ID was still on him. It was still tucked safely inside a decoy wallet he’d picked up just for this job. Felix never carried wallets with him. Not really. He was a thief, after all; he knew firsthand how easily one could disappear from a pocket with a bump and a smile.

He was a little worried about coming so early, but judging by the crowd already forming, it seemed half the city’s underworld had the same idea. If anything, blending in might be easier this way.

On the plus side, though, it was pretty warm out, seventy degrees and sunny, a rare stroke of kindness for March. Maybe that was a good omen. Or maybe he was just grasping at anything he could get. As he got closer to the front of the line, he sent another silent prayer, a swift cross with his fingers, and walked up to where he was stopped by security.

It took Felix a second to place the man standing in front of him, but he quickly realized that he had seen him before in his shop. It wasn’t Seungmin or Jisung, thank god, but he couldn’t remember this one's name. Jeongin had called him Muscles , hadn’t he? The nickname fit; he looked like he could bench-press a car without breaking a sweat. The tailored suit did little to hide how broad his frame was, and Felix suddenly felt very small by comparison. He gulped, handing over his ID when the man arched a brow at him.

“Who are you here with?” the guy asked, voice low and suspicious. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

His eyes flicked from the ID to Felix, clearly sizing him up. Testing face against the credentials. Felix wasn’t worried about the man recognizing him; the security footage from the mansion didn’t give a clear view, and he tried not to look his norm.

Felix panicked just a little, then leaned into it.

“Oh, uh… sorry. Bad Korean,” he said, dragging out the words with an exaggerated accent, even mispronouncing sorry slightly for good measure. If looking dumb meant slipping by easier, so be it. “Um, do you speak English, by chance ?”

The man blinked, visibly caught off guard. He glanced around, almost as if trying to find someone to pawn the conversation off on, before answering with a hesitant, “ Not good at it. Who are you he-re for? ”

Felix put on his most sheepish smile and gave a little shrug. “ G.D. flew me in from Australia. Business deal. ”

That gave the man pause. Felix could see the calculation in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly. Seconds stretched too long, and he resisted the urge to twitch under the scrutiny. Finally, the man – Muscles – handed back the ID and stepped aside with a grunt, waving him through. Felix let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He stepped inside quickly, resisting the urge to look back.

The interior was even more luxurious than he’d imagined. It felt like something he’d only see in movies, and it left him in awe, almost. Directly ahead was a sprawling dining area that looked like a five-star restaurant, with a polished bar off to the side glowing under ambient lighting.

The place was already crowded, filled with expensive suits and hushed voices, and barely any seats left. Felix beelined for the bar and slid onto one of the last open stools. His shoulder brushed the backrest as he leaned into the counter, trying to appear casual, but his fingers were still trembling slightly as he signaled for a drink.

This was going to be a long day.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix sipped from a tall glass of water, eyes drifting across the room as he leaned against the bar. The bartender had given him a weird look at first, probably confused why someone would avoid alcohol at an event like this, but Felix had muttered something in broken Korean about making “stupid decisions” when drunk. Embarrassing, but effective. After that, he left him alone, only returning when Felix lifted a hand for a quiet refill.

He was going to regret this soon; he’d downed enough water to make finding a bathroom a necessity later, but he stayed put. He was waiting for something, anything , to happen. So far, nothing had happened. G.D hadn’t shown up yet, and Jeongin had been radio silent since they met at the shop. That wasn’t a great sign, but Felix told himself to relax. No news was better than bad news. If they were found out, the shop would’ve been raided already.

A few strangers had tried to talk to him. Most were just flirting, he realized with a kind of exhausted detachment. Apparently, a foreign face and an expensive coat did something for people. He wasn’t interested. He didn’t even have to lie, just leaned on the bad Korean and blank stares until they gave up. Turns out, pretending to barely speak the language was an excellent creep repellent. He should try it more often. But it was fun swiping their black cards when they were trying, though.

Still, the longer he sat there, the more restless he got. The chandelier light above was too warm, the music too soft, and the sense of anticipation too loud. It was boring, and that made it worse. Quiet meant safe, but it also meant too much time to think.

And it was too early to make a move, so he stayed still. Waiting. God, he hated waiting. When his bladder stretched a little too thin, Felix slid off the barstool and wandered into the hallways, quietly muttering curses under his breath. There had to be a bathroom somewhere . That would be some sort of violation if they hadn’t. But the building was a maze, and the staff all looked too busy or too uninterested to offer help. He had looked into the blueprints, but the only places he really paid attention to was the way to the elevator that went to the basement. He doesn’t have the brain capacity for everything else right now. He turned a corner too fast and slammed straight into something warm and solid.

Definitely not a wall.

He looked up, noticing bright blonde hair and a face that had charming dimples. Felix stumbled back a step, instinctively bowing his head. Felix tried to sidestep him quickly, suddenly self-conscious about his own brown locks. He really missed being blonde.

But before he could slip away, the wall placed a firm hand on his shoulder, turning him back.

“What are you doing over here?” the man asked, brows furrowing. “You should be back in the main room.”

Felix fought hard to keep his expression blank, even tilting his head slightly, feigning confusion.  There was something familiar about his voice, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. His build was eerily familiar, too. “No Korean, sorry.”

The man seemed entirely unfazed by that, continuing, “ I said What are you doing back here? This area’s for staff only .”

Felix’s eyes widened faintly, not from the words, but the accent. Australian. Of course. That’s why the voice had struck him; It sounded like home, but a lot colder.

“ I got lost ,” Felix said quickly, adding just the right amount of embarrassment. “ I was looking for a bathroom. Didn’t mean to wander. ”

The man didn’t release his grip just yet. He scanned Felix’s face for a long moment, something calculating behind the dimples. Then, finally, he let go.

“ Second hallway to your left. End of the corridor, ” he said.

“ Thanks ,” Felix muttered, bowing slightly before walking – definitely not running – down the hallway. He didn’t look back, but his fingers twitched, and the pit in his stomach grew. He didn’t know why, but something about that man felt dangerous. He’d be sure to avoid him if they crossed paths again.

Felix turned the corner as instructed, pace steady, forcing himself not to speed up even though his instincts screamed at him to move . He could still feel the man’s eyes on the back of his neck, or maybe it was just paranoia, but either way, he wasn’t going to risk glancing back.

Second hallway to the left, he repeated silently, counting doors like his life depended on it. When he finally reached the bathroom, he pushed it open with more relief than he cared to admit.

Inside, the space was as pristine as the rest of the building: marble sinks, gold fixtures, soft lighting that made his honey skin look paler than it was. He checked each stall before choosing the farthest one and locking it behind him. He didn’t really need to pee anymore, he just needed a moment, just one moment to think.

He sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled his phone from the inside of his jacket. No messages, no pings from Jeongin, nothing from G.D. It felt wrong, too quiet.

Maybe the signal’s jammed, or maybe Jeongin can’t risk contacting me yet. Maybe G.D. is just late; he does love his dramatic timing…

Felix rubbed at the spot behind his ear where the earpiece nestled against his skin. He let out a quiet sigh and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He finally used the bathroom, after deeming it safe, then he quietly left that stall, rolled his sleeves up, checked his hair again, and adjusted his jacket. He washed his hands carefully, stealing a couple of glances at his reflection. He didn’t like who was looking back at him in the mirror, so he quickly rinsed his hands off, fixed his sleeves, and stepped back into the hallway. 

It was empty now, but the feeling of being watched hadn’t left, that crawling sensation at the back of his neck. He knew better than to ignore it. He made his way back to the bar, internally cursing himself for getting turned around like a rookie. His nerves weren’t doing him any favors, and neither was his bladder. 

He constantly felt like there were eyes on him, but whenever he scanned the room, everyone was too far into their own conversations to notice him. He didn’t even know why they would be watching him if they were . Sure, the hallway might’ve been a bit suspicious, but other than that, there was no need for them to watch him like a hawk. He went through all this effort to change his appearance, just for it to not matter. It was frustrating. He slid back into the same stool he'd claimed earlier. The bartender gave him a nod and refilled his glass without asking.

He took a long sip, glancing at the mirror behind the shelves of liquor. It gave him a decent view of the room behind him, still buzzing with energy, more people trickling in. Still no sign of G.D., and Jeongin hadn’t checked in either.

“You really weren’t kidding about the bad Korean.”

The voice came from just behind him, and Felix stiffened before turning slowly. It was the same man from earlier; blond, sharp-dressed, broad-shouldered, and clearly not in any rush.

Felix blinked up at him, feigning sheepishness. “ Oh, hey… right. You’re the hallway guy .”

“ I have a name ,” the man said smoothly, pulling up a stool beside him like they were already friends. “ But you can keep calling me ‘hallway guy’ if it helps. ”

Felix gave a polite laugh, a little too breathy. “ Sorry, mate. Didn’t catch it. ” It was odd talking in English to someone else after years of living in Korea, but he couldn’t say he didn’t miss it.

“ That’s alright, ” the man replied, offering a hand anyway. “ Chris .”

He hesitated, then shook it. “ Kim . Kim Felix. ”

“ Kim ,” Chris repeated thoughtfully. “ Nice to meet another Aussie around here. Thought I heard the accent .”

Felix shrugged a little and smiled, “ Figured I wouldn’t have the chance to meet anyone from home down here. It’s nice to see it.”

Chris gave a low chuckle at that, leaning on the counter and signaling the bartender for something stronger. “ Same here, and I've lived in Korea for years now. But maybe don’t wander into staff-only hallways again, yeah? Some people here don’t like stragglers. ”

Felix smiled tightly. “ Noted .”

There was a brief pause between them, the quiet fizz of tonic in Chris’s glass the only sound. Felix went to take another sip of water, but he could feel Chris watching him. So much for avoiding the man. There was still something he couldn’t place about his frame, something that made the alarm bells go off in his head. He tried not to focus on it, though. 

“You here for the auction, or just scoping the place out?” Chris asked casually.

Felix tilted his head, careful with his tone. “ Business .”

Chris didn’t drop it. “You look a bit young for business. How old are you?”

Felix gave a small laugh, taking another sip of water. You don’t know the half of it , he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. “ I’m twenty-one, and, well, I guess I’m just that good at what I do.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Felix flashed a playful wink. “That’s the secret.”

Chris hummed, knocking his knuckles against the counter. “ Well, Kim.. good luck with that.”

He stood then, just as smooth as he’d arrived, and wandered off without waiting for a response. Felix watched him go in the mirror, a chill crawling across his skin.

There was no way he was just another guest.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Felix pulled it out, flipping it onto the counter. A single notification lit the screen: G.D. was finally here. He stared at it for a second, then sighed and slipped it back into his pocket. He hadn’t seen G.D. in person since dropping off the files, and even that meeting had been tense. Now, he had to smile, play the part, and pretend nothing had changed. Like he was still the loyal thief ready to lick his shiny fucking shoes. Like he wasn’t lying through his teeth and planning to vanish the moment this whole thing was over.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, jaw tight. The worst part wasn’t pretending they were fine; it was not knowing if he believed it. G.D. wasn’t dumb. If he even suspected Felix had doubts, the act wouldn’t save him.

With one last sip of water, he stood, adjusted his jacket, and forced a slow breath in through his nose. He slipped back into the crowd, eyes sharp even if his smile wasn’t. He eventually made his way to the VIP section, roped off in deep red velvet and flanked by guards who looked more like bouncers than security. When Felix made his way to the entrance, though, one of them shoved him back with a firm hand to the chest.

“The hell was that?” he scowled, brushing down the front of his jacket. “I’m here for G.D. Let me through.”

The guard snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure you are, kid. Go back to sipping your fancy wine, I don’t got time for some stray–”

“Let him in,” came a smooth, amused voice from behind. “He’s the one I’m making a business deal with, remember?”

The guard stiffened. G.D. stood just past the rope, wearing a wolfish grin, obviously humored at the situation he was in. With visible reluctance, the guard moved aside and lifted the rope.

Felix didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, heel grinding deliberately into the man’s foot as he passed. “Oops,” he said, flashing a sweet, innocent smile in G.D.’s direction. “Guess I don’t know my own balance.”

G.D. chuckled. “Still charming as ever,” he turned on his heel and slipped back through the crowd with effortless confidence. He didn’t bother looking back, just beckoned Felix with a flick of his fingers.

“Come in, come in,” he cooed, “We don’t have all day~”

Felix followed, pulse thrumming like a warning drum in his ears.

At the far end of the VIP section sat a low table surrounded by plush seating and even sharper company. G.D. sank into the center like it was a throne, T.O.P. settling silently at his left, towering and unreadable. Taeyang and Daesung lounged to his right, eyes never leaving him. They were always the most distrustful, watching from a distance. Felix had only met them a handful of times during the past five years, and they had always been polite, but they never made an effort to get to know him, and he couldn’t blame them for that. To be honest, he didn’t want to know them either. He wished he had never met G.D. in the first place. 

Felix stood for a beat before sliding into the only empty seat directly across from G.D., right where they wanted him. Center stage, all eyes on him. It was unnerving, to say the least. He wasn’t a fan of all the eyes on him lately.

G.D. leaned back in his seat, propping one ankle over his knee like he didn’t have a care in the world. “So… business deals, right?” he drawled, grinning like a madman. He was playing with him, testing to see if Felix was going to slip, and it wasn’t going to happen.

Felix met his gaze with an innocent blink and a slow tilt of the head. “Sorry, no Korean, remember?” he gave G.D. a wide-eyed stare, subtly nodding his head in the direction of the cameras. Now it was his turn to catch him off guard.

G.D.’s smirk twitched for just a second, and Felix knew he’d scored the first hit.

“Right, right,” G.D. replied smoothly, his tone syrupy with mock contrition. “My apologies, Mr. Kim, you just remind me a lot of someone I know from home. You understand, right?”

“ Of course ,” Felix matched his fake smile with one of his own. “ No worries at all. Now… ” He folded his hands in front of him like a polite guest. “ What made you decide to fly me all the way from Australia, if I may ask? ”

G.D. hummed, drumming his fingers on the table once, twice. “ Ah, well, you know how it is. Sometimes the right man for the job isn’t next door. ” His gaze flicked briefly to T.O.P., who said nothing but hadn’t looked away from Felix since he sat down. “ You came highly recommended. ”

Felix simply offered a tight-lipped smile and leaned in slightly. “ I’m flattered. So, what job are we talking about? ”

This was all a test, but he didn’t know what G.D. had decided for as his cover. Anytime someone asked what he was here for, he had just said business, and that was too vague to fly the entire night. G.D. may be testing Felix, but he was testing him right back.

G.D. chuckled at that. “ You’re sharp today, Mr. Kim. Nothing like the man I spoke over the phone with ,” he said under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper despite the English. 

Felix just sipped his water like it was wine and tilted his head again, almost feline-like. 

G.D. leaned forward, his voice dropping, his grin fading into something a little more serious. “ We’ll call you a courier ,” he murmured smoothly. “ Flown in to deliver something sensitive for a client too discreet to show their face. No one needs to know what it is; just that it’s valuable .”

“ Who’s the client ?” Felix asked, just as quietly.

G.D. smiled like it was the easiest question in the world. “ Me .”

Felix quirked a brow. “ So I’m delivering something to you. Sounds a little familiar, yeah ?”

“Maybe,” G.D. chuckled, “but it works, doesn't it?”

“ Got it ,” Felix said, eyes flicking toward the security camera again. “ I’ll play courier, you play businessman .”

“ Exactly ,” G.D. grinned again, wicked now. “ And later tonight, when the lights dim and the auction is ready to go, you’ll go back to doing what you do best .”

“ Stealing things ?” Felix asked, biting back a smirk.

“ Right again , Bokkie– I mean, Mr. Kim , ” G.D. stuttered, flashing a coy smile. “ But for now, you drink your water, look pretty, and don’t talk too much .”

Felix tapped a finger against his glass, feigning thought. “ So, this couldn’t have been discussed over the phone? ”

T.O.P. let out a short laugh, amused despite himself, while Taeyang gave a quiet “ tsk ” under his breath. Daesung was still watching him with that curious, unreadable smile he always had on, and it made Felix want to bolt . Everything about them irked him now. It’s weird how fast things can change.

“ Well, it gave me a reason it see you, so why not? Now get going, doll .”

Felix stood from his chair, giving a small bow, and walked out of the section. He made sure to bump into the guard again on his way out, hearing G.D’s manic laugh from behind him. 

Courier. Sure. He could do that. Now all he had to do was wait on Jeongin to play his part.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin felt hollow. 

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but whatever emotions that had stirred in him that morning were gone. Now he just sat in the back of the black SUV, head leaned against the window, fingers trailing aimless patterns in the fog of his breath on the glass. The blur of trees rolling past outside felt distant, like a movie he wasn’t really watching.

No one spoke. The words of encouragement he had heard earlier that morning had been long gone and replaced by a suffocating quiet.

Apparently, Chan and Changbin had already left before he even woke up, and Minho had something else to handle before he joined them. “Business,” he'd called it. It was suspicious, but it wasn’t like Jeongin had the energy or right to question it.

Seungmin was behind the wheel this time, while Jisung rode shotgun beside him, cigarette dangling between his lips while he flipped through radio stations like he couldn’t stand the silence. Next to Jeongin, Hyunjin sat angled toward his phone, completely in his own world by the look of it, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Jeongin felt strange not being the loud one anymore, having only yesterday tried to piss them off, but no one seemed eager to fill the gap. Except Jisung, who’d muttered a faint “thank God” when Jeongin hadn’t said anything for the first ten minutes.

They’d made him change before leaving into something more fitting for the event: a pair of black slacks along with a black button-up and a blood-red tie that felt like a noose. He’d refused to go without his baseball cap, and after some back-and-forth, they’d let him keep it. Small victories, he supposed. They probably thought he was just picking a fight on purpose to fuck with them, because he had in the past, but it helped cover up the earpiece still tucked into his ear, and he wasn’t going to risk getting caught before the mission even fucking started. 

But even with the hat, he couldn’t shake the discomfort. The clothes weren’t tight, not really, but they felt wrong on his skin. He was so used to wearing baggy clothes that he felt naked without the extra folds. He kept tugging at the sleeves like they didn’t belong to him. To be fair, they technically didn’t.

He missed his hoodie. He missed his hyung. He missed not knowing the exact shape of his own end. And still, he said nothing. Just sat there, folded neatly in his corner of the backseat, counting trees. He twisted the lollipop slowly in his mouth, the stick clicking softly against his teeth as his fingers worked at the peeling skin around his nails. It was ironic, really; he’d grabbed the candy out of habit, something to help calm his nerves, but it wasn’t doing a damn thing. The sugar sat heavy on his tongue, the artificial cherry taste already fading. His jaw ached from clenching, and his fingers stung where he’d picked too hard.

He honestly wished they’d just figure him out already; rip the curtain back, call his bluff, end it. At least then the waiting would be over. Anxiety wasn’t something he felt often, mainly with riskier missions Felix would take. Back then, he’d had control – plans, exits, backup routes. But he didn’t have that now. He didn’t know how to sit with it. So he tried to make himself small, folding inward, as if shrinking enough might make him invisible. Maybe they’d forget he was even there. God, he wished they would.

The trees eventually gave way, and the city surrounded him again. Jeongin stared out the window, the dull thrum in his chest getting louder with every passing block.

If he jumped out of the car right now, how far would he get? It was a stupid question– suicidal, even. But still, he wondered. One could only hope. 

They passed the street that would’ve taken them to the shop, and Jeong couldn’t explain the pain he felt in his chest at that. He’d never get to work there again, to sink his teeth into whatever useless piece of tech someone would drop off or roll his eyes at a customer asking if “rice really works.” Never catch Felix asleep at the desk, half-sprawled over some blueprint for a heist. The thought settled heavy in his lungs.

He shook his head, brushing it off with a forced shiver when Jisung glanced his way. He was being way too pessimistic right now. It wasn’t the time to get depressed; he was better than that, for fuck’s sake.

They eventually pulled up to the auction house, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was with the Hwang Hyunjin, he didn’t think he’d be able to get past the sheer amount of people crowding the entrance.

They made their way to the front, and like the parting of the sea, people instinctively moved aside. Eyes followed their every step, curious, no doubt. Jeongin tugged his cap a little lower, keeping his gaze locked on the expensive shoes that shuffled past. He didn’t want to see their faces, and he didn’t want them seeing his.

This was going to cause some sort of scandal. He was walking shoulder to shoulder with the head of STRAY, and as far as anyone knew, there hadn’t been any new recruits since Hyunjin inherited the syndicate from his father. Now here he was: some unknown college kid suddenly at Hyunjin’s side, like he belonged there. Like he’d earned it.

Changbin stood posted at the entrance like a bouncer carved out of stone, arms folded and gaze sweeping the crowd. Jeongin made the mistake of slowing as he passed, and Muscles, apparently in a generous mood, clapped him hard on the shoulder.

His knees nearly gave out.

The pain laced through him so fast he almost made a sound, catching himself just in time. It hit square where his nerve damage was worst, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. He knew it was meant as a reassuring gesture, but Jesus Christ . He shot Changbin a withering glare and shoved him back with as much force as he could manage, which amounted to little more than an annoyed nudge.

Changbin just laughed his weird laugh and tugged the brim of Jeongin’s cap down playfully. It seemed like they were friends now or something. When did that happen? Jeongin huffed and fixed his hat with a sharp tug, speeding up to catch the others. If this day wasn’t already hell, it was shaping up to be.

They stepped into a lavish dining hall that looked like it had been torn straight from the pages of a luxury magazine– crystal chandeliers glittered above them like stars, casting soft golden light across polished floors and velvet-lined booths. Every inch of the room screamed money, power, and old blood.

And it was packed.

People in tailored suits and couture dresses clustered in tight groups, drinks in hand, voices low. The air buzzed with whispered deals, silent rivalries, and too many eyes. It was overwhelming, like walking into the lion’s den with a bleeding heart.

He had never stepped foot anywhere this luxurious before STRAY. The sheer decadence of the room made his skin crawl, like it could see right through him, strip him down to the nothing he came from. Suddenly, his clothes felt wrong, too stiff and too clean, but still not enough. He felt like he was wearing rags, even though it was far from the truth.

He wasn’t poor, technically. He and Felix were both far wealthier than most people in Seoul, but they never lived like it. They kept their old apartment behind the shop, ate takeout on the floor, fixed their own tech, and split every bill. G.D.'s money never changed that. It was part survival, part habit, and part refusal to let themselves become like the people they stole from.

But here, surrounded by silk and diamonds and whispers behind wine glasses, Jeongin felt like a rat that snuck into a royal banquet; clever enough to get in, but too filthy to ever belong.

Jeongin stuck close, letting Hyunjin take the lead towards the bar. As they wove through the crowd, a group of four lingered, sat on the stools he assumed Hyunjin wanted. They were well-dressed and clearly influential, but not influential enough.

Hyunjin didn’t say a word. He just looked at them.

One glance. That was all it took. The group faltered, words dying mid-sentence. Then, like startled cats, they stood up in unison, clearing the way without protest.

Jeongin didn’t know if he was impressed or terrified. Maybe both. Either way, he kept his eyes low, grateful to not be the one under that stare, and slid onto the last stool on the left. Without a word, he signaled the bartender over. All the sugar was giving him a headache. He got himself a glass of water, and he could hear Seungmin snicker from beside him.

“What?” he scoffed, “Did you all forget I’m not twenty-one yet? Besides, I’m not a fan of casual drinking.”

Seungmin didn’t miss a beat. He leaned forward on the bar, lazily swirling the amber liquid in his glass he had ordered, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. “Didn’t realize water was your signature cocktail,” he said dryly.

Jeongin rolled his eyes and took a long sip, letting the chill calm the restless thrum in his chest. “Sorry I’m not trying to blackout before the auction starts.”

Jisung snorted from the other side of Seungmin, flicking the stir stick out of his own drink. “You sound like a responsible adult. Gross.”

“I sound like someone who doesn’t want to puke on a million-dollar rug,” Jeongin muttered, tapping the rim of his glass. “And I’d like to survive the night without waking up in handcuffs, or worse .”

Hyunjin, who had been quietly scanning the crowd from the end of the bar, spoke up without looking at him. “Smartest thing you’ve said since we met.”

Jeongin narrowed his eyes but didn’t bother with a comeback. His focus had already shifted, caught on the boy sitting just to his left, whose eyes were opened wide, lips pressed together too tightly, like he was one wrong breath away from shattering. It was Felix. Somehow, against every insane, impossible odds, it was really him.

Jeongin blinked and looked away quickly, heart thudding in his chest loud enough he was sure someone would hear it. A small smile tried to creep its way onto his face, but he bit it back. He couldn’t afford to look suspicious now, not when they were both sitting in the belly of the beast.

Still, what were the chances? Of all the stools in this overpriced hotel bar, he’d been guided to the one right next to the person he thought he’d never see again. Lucky? Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how long the luck holds out.

He forced himself to keep up the banter with Seungmin and Jisung, pretending he wasn’t vibrating with nerves. But gradually, he shifted in his seat, letting his leg slide just a little to the left until it brushed against Felix’s.

There was a pause, just for a second, and then Felix nudged back.

That was all it took. A touch. Confirmation. Jeongin swallowed thickly, tension easing from his shoulders. He was here. He was real. Jeongin hadn’t just made him up in some trauma-fueled dream. And no one had noticed yet.

The auction wouldn’t start for another couple of hours, and Minho was still off doing whatever shady business Minho did. So for now, Jeongin stayed put, bickering with Jisung over meaningless stuff, posture relaxed, and acting like nothing was wrong. But his leg stayed pressed against Felix’s the whole time. If he stayed at the bar until it was ready to start, he could at least be close to the most important person in his life. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Eventually, a voice called out from behind them, and Jeongin jerked in his seat before he could stop himself. His leg slid away from Felix’s, careful but quick, and he spun around slightly on the stool to see who it was. That voice–yeah, it was definitely Chan’s.

He watched as Chan strode over with a charming smile on his face, looking a little relieved. Jeongin figured it had to do with seeing everyone okay; Jeongin could tell he took his role as the eldest very seriously. Just like Hyunjin had earlier, he didn’t have to say a word; one look at the man sitting on the next stool had the poor guy scrambling off like he'd just been physically assaulted. Chan didn’t even blink. He just sat with his back against the counter, adjusted the cuffs of his white button-down like it was part of a ritual, and waved the bartender over with the back of his hand. Always the perfectionist.

“I’m glad to see you all made it here safely,” Chan said, glancing briefly between them before his gaze settled on Hyunjin. “Is Minho still out?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replied, sipping at the dark liquid around his glass. “He hasn’t answered me yet, but it should be fine.”

The bartender walked over then, Chan giving another smile before giving his order. Whatever he asked for, Jeongin didn’t catch it, too busy letting his gaze drift, casually, he hoped, back toward Felix.

He waited a beat, then another, before slowly shifting his leg sideways again, brushing it against Felix’s under the bar. The contact was brief, only a slight graze to the knee. Testing the waters. 

Felix looked…off. His shoulders were drawn tight, mouth set in a flat line, and his eyes flickering toward Chan with something that looked suspiciously like alarm. He looked more caught off guard by Chan than by Hyunjin .

Jeongin frowned slightly. He leaned in a fraction, adjusting in his seat so that he could get a better look in the mirror in front of them. Chan hadn’t even acknowledged him yet, so why did Felix look like he’d just seen a ghost?

What the hell happened before I got here?

Hyunjin’s gaze swept the room, then, lazily at first, until it landed on Felix. Jeongin didn’t mean to tense up, but he did, and quickly forced himself to mask it behind a stretch. Hyunjin tilted his head, squinting at the man as if he could recognize him. Please don’t , Jeongin silently begged. Not yet .

“Hey, what’s your name, Kid?” he suddenly spoke over everyone, and all four sets of eyes turned toward Felix. Jeongin followed suit, but since his back was turned to them, they couldn’t see his panicked expression. 

Felix, however, was the best actor Jeongin knew, tilting his head slightly and blinking innocently up at them. “Sorry, no Korean.”

Hyunjin stared at him, clearly off guard from the statement. Jeongin was, too, admittedly, but he was also impressed. What better way to look innocent than to be a helpless foreigner? But at the same time, what would a foreigner be doing here, of all places? He knew that G.D had gotten him onto the guest list, but besides that, he had no idea about his cover-up. He was just as clueless as the rest, in a way. He didn’t even know his ‘identity’.

Hyunjin’s gaze flicked over to Jeongin for a split second, and Jeongin could feel the heat of it. He did his best to look just as confused as everyone else, not that it was hard.

Felix gave a sheepish shrug, like he was embarrassed. “English only,” he added, with a slightly thickened accent. Jeongin could barely keep his jaw from dropping. His accent had gotten cleaner over the years, nearly gone, but this version? The sloppy pronunciation, the little awkward pause before “only”? That was textbook beginner fluency. Brilliant. He’d never say it aloud, but damn, Felix was good .

Jeongin could hold his own when it came to acting, but he knew he’d fumble the act eventually.  Felix had clearly been using this cover since the second he walked through the door.

Then Chan laughed softly from beside Hyunjin, breaking the tension. “Ah, yeah. I spoke with him a bit earlier,” he said, tilting his glass. “He’s an Aussie, like me.”

So that's why Felix was awkward around Chan.

Chan went on, still smiling. “He said his name’s Kim Felix, and that he’s here on business.”

Hyunjin arched a brow. “ What business, exactly? ” It was noticeable he wasn’t fluent in English, but he was still clear when he spoke.

Felix gave a soft smile, then took a sip. “ Courier ,” he replied. “ For an anonymous buyer. Sorry, I can’t go into any more detail than that. ”

Chan whispered the translation into Hyunjin’s ear, and he gave a subtle nod in return. Seungmin and Jisung gave Felix a suspicious look, but they both eventually moved on in their conversations, forgetting the interaction. A foot tapped at Jeongin’s ankle, and he almost jumped at the sudden contact, but he quickly realized who it belonged to. Felix had started typing away at his phone, most likely for cover, but the unspoken question was still obvious. Are we okay? Jeongin tapped back twice in confirmation and turned back to the rest.

The conversation moved on, but Jeongin’s thoughts stayed rooted. He doubted that anything was going to come out of that, but it was still nerve-wracking. None of Felix’s previous missions had been this hands-on before, ran from the safety of their cluttered apartment. 

None of it had ever required Jeongin to be there, either. He was back up in the sense that he’d shut down security systems if need be, behind a wall of monitors. Or worse case, from the driver's seat with the engine running, waiting to disappear into back alleys the second things went south. He used to beg Felix to take him on more jobs, used to whine about being left behind like a little brother stuck at home. Now, he finally understood why Felix was so protective of him. He’d act the same way if he were in his shoes.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, sipping alcohol like it was water. Eventually, they slowed down, letting the buzz fade before the auction started. None of them were truly drunk, just warm, loose around the edges. They needed clear heads if they were going to pull this off. Not that it mattered. It was going to fall apart anyway.

Still, Jeongin learned a few things in the lull.

Seungmin, for one, was a giggly drunk – at least when tipsy. The default blank stare he wore had vanished from his face, replaced by a flushed grin and soft laughter. He had a nice smile, Jeongin noted absently. Kind of like a puppy.

Hyunjin was the opposite. Either he could hold his liquor well, or he was just scarily good at pretending. The only sign he’d been drinking was the faint pink coloring his cheeks.

Jisung was the same as the night before, which was loud. It was ear-grating and endearing at the same time.  Jeongin didn’t like that combination. Not one bit.

And Chan… Chan actually looked relaxed. His smile was lopsided, bordering on dopey. It was a strange thing to see. Jeongin hadn’t spent much time around him, barely crossing paths outside of dinner the night before, but even then, the man radiated stress. Honestly, he seemed more tightly stressed than Hyunjin, which didn’t make much sense in Jeongin’s brain. Hyunjin was the leader, no? Jeongin figured the roles would be more reversed. 

If he ever got the chance, maybe he’d try to ease some of that tension.

Wait. No.

Jeongin blinked, shaking the thought from his head. What the hell was he doing? These people were his enemies. Within the next twenty-four hours, there was a good chance one of them would kill him. He needed to stop thinking like this.

He could see Felix’s questioning gaze from the reflection of the glass shelves behind the bar, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Felix didn’t push, anyway. 

Conversation flowed effortlessly among the five of them, and – surprisingly – it was kind of nice. Everyone had switched to water by now, trying to flush the alcohol from their systems. At some point, Jisung and Seungmin disappeared to the bathroom, and when they returned, they looked a little more composed. Probably splashed some cold water on their faces, who knew?

He leaned toward Felix, bumping his shoulder lightly. Felix jolted in his seat like a startled cat.

“ Hey. What time ?” Jeongin asked, his English clumsy. He couldn’t check the time himself, since he didn’t have a watch, and Jisung still hadn’t returned his phone from the day they dragged him out of the tech shop.

Felix blinked at him, then smiled at the poor attempt at his native language. He raised a hand like he was about to tug Jeongin’s hat down over his face the way Changbin had earlier, but stopped himself at the last second. Jeongin couldn’t help but snort under his breath. 

Felix looked down at the gold Rolex on his wrist. That was common whenever Jeongin saw something flashy adorned on Felix. The man had his profession for a reason, after all.

“ Six fourteen ,” Felix murmured. Then, more softly, he repeated it in Korean, just in case. Jeongin appreciated that more than he’d admit.

He gave Felix a small smile before turning around and promptly slapping Seungmin on the shoulder. The older man flinched at the sudden impact, grabbing tightly onto Jeongin’s wrist. His eyes were wide for a second, then softened back into that blank stare once he realized who it was. He didn’t let go of Jeongin’s arm, though. Fair enough. Jeongin had been trying to get a reaction out of him. He just wanted to see how far he could push his luck; sue him.

“Yah, relax. It’s just me,” he scowled, no real bite behind it. Hopefully, Seungmin didn’t take him too seriously. The man was a bit intimidating.

“When is this thing starting? We’ve been here for hours,” he couldn’t help the slight whine in his voice, or the pout that formed on his face. Well, he could. But his legs were starting to get stiff, and he was bored out of his mind.

No one had told him anything, Felix included. Not a single detail. Not where he’d be working, when it started, when it would end. Nothing. He had no idea what Felix had planned to do in order to pull everything off, aside from how he got in the building in the first place, and how he supposedly has to take people's body parts in the process. Gross.

Worse, Jeongin didn’t know if Felix had a plan to get him out, either.

Felix tended to leave out details like that in planning. It was completely justifiable, though, since Jeongin hadn’t been this involved in a heist before. But Felix also just wasn’t good at making plans by himself. That was Jeongin’s job: to make sure everything went smoothly. But since they both had their own things to worry about, he wouldn’t be surprised if Felix hadn’t given it a second thought. 

Oh god. What if Felix assumed he had his own escape plan?

He was so dead.

While he had his own internal breakdown, Seungmin’s expression hadn’t changed that much. But if Jeongin squinted, he could’ve sworn he saw something close to endearment in his eyes. Weird. 

Also weird: Seungmin still had his hand wrapped around Jeongin’s wrist. It wasn’t suspended midair anymore but resting on the bar instead, grip firm. Maybe it was just to keep him from slapping Seungmin again. That was the only reasonable explanation. Seungmin had made it abundantly clear he didn’t like Jeongin. He could still recall him telling Jisung that Jeongin was so annoying he’d quit.

Seungmin pulled out his phone from his pocket, eyes widening slightly when he glanced at the time. “Shit,” he mumbled, turning his head toward the others. “Guys, we've got about forty-five minutes until the auction starts.”

That snapped everyone to attention, standing abruptly and making their way to the exit. Seungmin yanked Jeongin out of his seat so fast he barely managed to stumble upright. Embarrassingly, he yelped, but no one seemed to notice or care, too focused on getting out of there. 

As they disappeared behind the doorway, Jeongin looked back over his shoulder at Felix and mouthed, I love you, hyung . He didn’t get to see Felix’s reaction.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The hallways twisted like a maze, and Jeongin had to jog at times just to keep up. It was hard to memorize the layout when they moved so fast, much to his dismay. He was gonna be so lost later. 

Eventually, they reached an elevator, where Hyunjin pressed his thumb to a scanner before the doors opened. Everyone crammed inside, and Jeongin blinked in mild surprise that it could support all their weight. He didn’t know why that detail stuck in his brain.

Hyunjin hit the button for the second floor, and as soon as they stepped in, they were off again, going down even more endless hallways. Seungmin’s hand was still clamped around Jeongin’s wrist. Now it had to be because they didn’t want to lose him. That was all. So why is he focusing on it so much? Maybe it’s because of his hatred of physical contact. Yeah.

At some point, Jisung had vanished from the group, and Jeongin only realized it when they finally stopped in front of another door. Hyunjin repeated the same process, thumb pressed to a scanner, but this time added an eye scan, and Jeongin blanched at that for two reasons. 

One: he hadn’t been registered in the system. Which meant once he was in there, he wasn’t getting out without help.

 Two: Oh God , that’s what Felix meant about gouging out an eye.

Jeongin was going to be sick.

Hyunjin twisted the manual handle, which Jeongin was a little glad was there, and Seungmin wordlessly dragged Jeongin inside while Chan and Hyunjin stood at the doorway. The room was dim, but it was perfectly illuminated by the sheer amount of monitors lining the far wall, each one a different camera angle of the building. The desk beneath them was loaded with cables, switches, keyboards; command central.

Seungmin shoved Jeongin toward the computer chair, and Jeongin couldn’t help stumbling into it with an unceremonious thud. Seungmin just huffed out a breath of air that sounded like a laugh, swiveling him around to be pointed at the computers. He had his hands gripping the top of the chair, and he leaned down until he was eye to eye with Jeongin. 

“Have fun. There’s an emergency button in case you need someone, but I think everyone would agree when I say don’t press it unless you're dying or there's a genuine emergency. So don’t die, okay?” he sat back up, giving the chair a patronizing pat before slipping back into the hallway, the door sealing shut behind him with a soft hiss.

Jeongin couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Asshole.

He sat there for a couple of minutes, watching their silhouettes disappear on the camera screen. Then, with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he turned toward the camera in the corner of the room, flashed his signature smile, and shut it off with a tap of the keyboard.

With that out of the way, he stood from the chair, shoving it under the door handle and giving it a couple of swift kicks to the wheels to wedge it tighter in place. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it might buy him a few precious minutes if things went south. And they would. Probably. Either way, he wasn’t about to sit down again. His legs were killing him. Maybe he should press the emergency button.

He walked back to the desk and stretched briefly, fingers flexing above the keys before he got to work. He combed through firewalls, file systems, anything he could think of. He wanted to get a full idea of what he was working with before the real game began.

First and foremost: cut the signal. One by one, he shut down internet access and wireless comms across the building, starting with his own room. He needed to make sure the security cameras still ran, but at the same time, he had to make sure no one could call for backup when things got out of hand. It was already going to be hell when the entire auction house was filled with mafia members and murders; he didn’t need more of them popping up. 

It would’ve knocked the signal to Jeongin’s earpiece, too, if he hadn’t built it himself. The earpiece was connected to an entirely isolated signal that no one else would catch. Or at least, he hoped so. They were still prototypes.

Then he clicked the channel open on the earpiece, eyes locked on the screen showing Felix in full view, still casually typing away on his phone.

“Felix hyung, can you hear me?” This was going to be a nightmare if the signal didn’t hold.

But when Felix froze for a moment, he knew he had reached him. Leaning back with his hands gripping the desk for balance, Jeongin let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Loud and clear, Innie.” From an outside perspective, Felix looked completely unbothered; just another bored guest leaning against the bar, one hand holding his head while the other scrolled aimlessly. He didn’t even glance up. Felix never failed to catch Jeongin off guard with his acting skills.

“You ready?”

Felix scoffed, barely hiding the grin in his voice. “Like that’s even a question.”

With that, he stood up from the bar. No one spared him a second glance as he slipped into the crowd; just another rich guest with somewhere to be.

Show time.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Felix stepped back into the hall, retracing his path to the bathroom. He slipped inside, checked that it was empty, and waited a few minutes. It felt redundant, but every step served a purpose. When he emerged again, the hallway was just as quiet.

He scanned until he found a young staff member loitering near a corner, distracted and alone.

Perfect.

Felix approached quickly, offering a polite bow and a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I think someone locked the bathroom door. Could you unlock it for me?” he asked in perfect Korean. There was no point in keeping up the foreigner act anymore.

The staffer gave him a wary look, but after a pause, nodded and started walking back with him. Just before they reached the door, Felix moved – fast. He shoved the guy through it and slammed it shut behind them, actually locking the door. The kid hit the floor hard with a surprised yelp. Same build as Felix. Good enough.

The moment the staffer started to scramble upright, panic blooming on his face, Felix socked him hard across the temple. He went down again, dazed and groaning. Felix dropped to his knees, yanking his own tie loose and fashioning a quick gag, tying it firmly behind his head.

“Sorry,” Felix muttered, glancing at the name tag. “ Kyehoon-ssi . Just business. Should’ve picked a safer job, yeah?”

He talked mostly to himself as he started stripping the uniform from Kyehoon, tossing the pieces aside. Not a pretty picture, he knew. The kid was probably just some student working a temp shift, and here Felix was, stealing his clothes and leaving him in his briefs on a bathroom floor. But he didn’t need blood all over the uniform. It made his stomach turn, but he shoved the feeling down. He couldn’t afford guilt right now.

He could tell they were the same age, and it felt awkward leaving him naked in here. Stupid, considering that was the least of the kid’s worries. Still rambling under his breath, he took one of the kid’s socks, which were too long in Felix’s opinion, but perfect for the situation, and tied a Tourniquet around his upper arm. 

That was when the reality of the situation hit. Kyehoon’s eyes went wide, probably realizing what Felix was about to do to him. He thrashed, trying to scream through the gag.

Felix winced. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly, then sighed. “Sorry.”

He hit him again, harder this time. The kid slumped. It was better this way; he could seriously hurt himself struggling. Really, Felix was doing it for his sake. Totally. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

He shuffled forward, placing a knee against Kyehoon’s chest to hold him in place while he took the knife out from inside his shoe. He clumsily wiped it off with shaking fingers, then laid Kyehoon’s hand flat against the tile.

He took a deep breath, lining it up.

He hesitated, then grabbed his own shirt, tearing a strip off the hem. He’d need it to wrap the wound. To stop the bleeding, to keep this kid alive. Felix wasn’t a monster, or at least he hoped he wasn’t; he was just someone doing what he had to do.

He lined it up again, swallowing hard. His hands were steady, thankfully, but his nerves were all over the place. Kyehoon whimpered behind the gag, tears trailing from the corners of his eyes as he shook his head weakly, pinned against the floor.

“Don’t move,” Felix muttered, more to himself than to the trembling staffer. “Just… don’t move.”

He pressed the knife against the base of Kyehoon’s left thumb, where the skin was soft and the bone thinner. He had tried to study it, watching enough videos that the FBI probably had him on a watchlist. Knew exactly what he needed.

And still, the moment the blade bit in, the scream behind the gag ripped through the silence like thunder. Felix winced but didn’t stop. His breaths came harsh and shallow, but he kept his grip firm, forcing the knife downward. The skin gave way first, then the flesh, warm blood spilling onto the tile and staining his knuckles red. It was significantly less with the tourniquet, though.

It wasn’t clean. It was never going to be. Felix wasn’t a surgeon, for fuck’s sake. But he got through it. It took longer than he had planned; the knife wasn't sharp enough for its task, but it only took a couple of minutes at most. Those few minutes felt like a lifetime to him, though. Kyehoon probably felt the same. Let’s make the empath permanently alter someone’s body, right, G.D.? fucking christ. Eventually, though, the skin had given its last resistance, and the thumb separated completely. Kyehoon passed out a second later.

Felix dropped the knife, his hands shaking now that it was done. He scrambled for the strip of cloth he’d torn from his shirt and wrapped it around the wound in a rush, tying it off tight. No doubt the guy was going to need a hospital. But he’d live. Hopefully. 

Felix stared at the severed thumb in his blood-slick hand for a second too long.

“God,” he muttered. Then shook himself, shoving it into a small sterile pouch he’d brought along for this exact reason. The biometric scan at the elevator would only read live tissue for a short window. He had maybe twenty minutes tops to get there. He’d have to repeat the process again when he was in the basement, so he didn’t plan on keeping his souvenir longer than necessary.

He stood, washing his hands quickly in the sink. Then he threw on the uniform in record time, adjusting the collar and smoothing the front, slipping the knife back into his shoe. He also took the braid out quickly, not needing something else about him to stand out. A glance in the mirror showed him pale and grim, but composed. Just another staff member on duty. Afterwards, he cut the arm sleeve of his old shirt off and slipped it onto Kyehoon’s body, shoving him into a stall with the pants on the ground near him. He didn’t have time for that part.

He tucked the pouch inside his coat, took one last look at Kyehoon’s unconscious form, and muttered, “Thanks, really.”

Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him as he locked it once again.

He didn’t waste another second, slipping down the hallway toward the elevator with brisk, silent steps.

Suddenly, Jeongin’s voice crackled in his ear, low and urgent. “Hide. Now.”

Felix reacted instantly, spinning back around the corner he’d just passed. He pressed his back to the wall, holding his breath as the elevator dinged open behind him. Three sets of footsteps spilled out into the corridor.

“Has Minho still not answered you yet?” a voice called out. Seungmin’s. Thank fuck for Jeongin.

“No,” Hyunjin replied, “Signal’s jammed. It wasn’t like this earlier.” Felix could practically hear his brow furrow.

 “I could ask Jisung to look into it?” Chris suggested.

“We don’t have time for that right now,” Hyunjin cut him off. “The auction’s about to start. Minho’s fine; he knows every hand-to-hand style in the book. Plus, he’s got a gun.” 

Their voices grew fainter as they walked away, and Felix couldn’t help the relieved sigh he let out at that. He waited a beat longer, just to be safe, then darted to the elevator. Pulling the thumb out from his pocket, he carefully pressed the thumb against the scanner.

The light blinked green, the door slid open.

He stepped inside, finally collapsing against the wall when the door finally shut. His heart was pounding.

Looking up at the corner camera, he gave a small, sarcastic thumbs-up. Jeongin’s quiet laughter crackled in his ear.

The basement was colder than he expected.

He repeated the process from before, except this time, it was worse. So much worse. He had dragged a security guard into the same janitor’s closet he planned to exit from, mainly so that he could be sure the window was actually there and the blueprints weren’t outdated.

The man wasn’t going to live. The guard didn’t scream after the first few seconds, not after Felix jammed the blade behind his eye socket and twisted. He was pretty sure he had stabbed the man’s brain a few times by accident.

He didn’t even check the nametag this time, didn’t want a name to go with the sound the guy made when Felix carved out his thumb.

Blood soaked through his sleeves, his hands shaking again. When he stepped back into the hallway as a guard, however, now with a fresh set of eyes and thumbs, he looked completely neutral. The vault wasn’t far. There wasn’t anyone around to judge him, anyway, which was a little suspicious, but he just prayed it was good luck.

The scanner beeped its approval with the grotesque keys he’d collected, and the heavy doors groaned open. What he saw inside made him stop short.

Crates were cracked open, jewelry tangled with old surveillance drives. Stacks of original paintings piled across the floor. Someone had treated this place like a dumping ground, not the inner sanctum of a billion-won auction house.

Felix’s jaw clenched. A low, frustrated growl slipped out before he could stop it.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I’m gonna hire a hitman. I swear to God, G.D. better start praying.”

There was no rhyme or reason to the mess, and now he had to sort through it. Fast, too. And of course, G.D. wanted something small too. He guessed his luck had run out already.

He wiped his hands on the inside of his jacket and dove in.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Minho pulled up outside the tech shop where Jeongin lived, letting his eyes settle on the dusty glass storefront, a spiderweb crack in the front window and the faint letters of Circuit Syndicate at the top. What caught his attention, though, was the sign on the door flipped to say Closed . That was unusual. As far as he knew, the place hadn’t closed once since it opened, not even when Jeongin got dragged to the mansion. Business had always kept running. Of course, Chris could be sick, but something told Minho it ran deeper than that. 

He wasn’t here by chance. This was a long-overdue errand. Every lead they had on Jeongin circled back to dead ends and contradictions, scrubbed data, and connections that didn’t add up. Minho’s job was to make sense of things, and Jeongin’s profile was full of loose threads.

They should have done this sooner, but they had to get a feel for whether or not Jeongin would even stay at the base or not. What's the point in digging into someone’s personal life if they were going to end up dead anyway? This was the final initiation part, in a sense. But today, he was working the auction, and if he aced it, chances are they’ll never let him go. They couldn’t hold on to a stranger, though.

He had spent the morning at the police department, keeping up appearances. Besides being the main detective of the department, they didn’t put him on most cases, mainly ones that were harder to crack. Doesn’t mean he can just skip work, though.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Minho walked up towards the front door. After making sure no one was watching, he stepped back and drove his foot into the lock with a well-aimed kick. The door gave way with a crunch. He stepped inside, gingerly closing the door behind him as if that would fix the damage he had already caused.

The shop was in total disarray, cables and half-disassembled tech cluttering the floor, and the chaos only got worse as he made his way closer to the workbench. It was cozy in a way, but it gave Minho hoarder vibes. 

He made his way behind the counter, brushing aside the cheap curtain of hanging beads that separated the storefront from the back. Of course, there was another locked door. Minho’s foot was going to hurt after this.

One more kick later, he stepped into the apartment– and immediately regretted it.

If he thought that the Tech shop was bad, the apartment was worse. It was tiny, two bedrooms and a bathroom off to the left, with the rest of the living area left open. There wasn’t much furniture: a couch, a dinner table, and a workbench in the corner. But there was so much junk. The place was riddled with half-empty soda cans and candy wrappers. Burnt-out equipment sat in sad little piles, random papers strewn about like someone had lost their mind mid-project, and cords snaked across the floor. It smelled like metal and burnt plastic.

Minho resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Even Jisung wasn’t this messy.

Chris hadn’t come running out at the sound of the door being kicked in, which was… odd. Minho was under the impression that Chris was a recluse from how Jeongin spoke about him. Changbin had even mentioned that when they’d come by to grab Jeongin’s gear, he hadn’t so much as peeked out.

Maybe he had a doctor's appointment. Either way, Minho wasn’t about to complain. Easier to work without an audience.

Aside from the clutter that spilled into every corner, the apartment wasn’t half bad. The walls were painted a soft, washed-out blue, and little knick-knacks were tucked into every shelf and corner. It gave a homey feel to the place. Minho preferred homes at least twenty times this size, but something about the mess and warmth was strangely comforting. Mansions reminded him of hospitals. They were big and often had plenty of people in them, and yet completely devoid of soul. Sterile. This place had character. It was a nice change of pace.  

He found a shelf with a framed photo, and his gaze paused.

The picture showed Jeongin as a kid, sitting cross-legged in a cramped bedroom, smiling at the camera. A woman stood behind him, her arm draped over his shoulder. Mom, probably. They looked so happy together. Minho stared at it for longer than he meant to.

“You’re just a kid, huh?” he muttered.

He looked around, but there were no photos of Chris. Maybe he lost them when he was in foster care.

He wandered over to the dining table, picking up a necklace off the table that had a small, clear crystal sphere dangling from it, catching the light with a faint shimmer. Minho blinked at it a couple of times, inspecting it closer. It looked an awful lot like the one that had gone missing in Chan’s office. Maybe Chris was the expensive type, lord knows they have plenty of money to spend. Minho set the necklace down and picked up the receipt beside it. It wasn’t for the necklace, but for box hair dye. Interesting. 

He rifled through a few more scattered papers, but it was all in English, so he didn’t understand a lick of it. Fucking foreigners. He muttered under his breath and left the table, stepping into the kitchen.

It looked like a warzone. Pots and pans were stacked high on the stovetop, and the counters were buried under dishes and grocery bags. Minho was considering hiring cleaners, since apparently no one knew how to do it themselves. The faint scent of brownies still lingered in the air, warm and sweet, and his stomach growled despite himself. Not the time.

He kept moving, pausing by the workbench. Predictably, it was just as chaotic. Tools lay everywhere, half-finished tech projects abandoned mid-progress. The customers probably weren’t thrilled that Jeongin had vanished. When all of this was over, Jeongin would have more freedom, though.

The couch in the living room was buried under throw blankets, and a half-melted ice pack rested on top of one of the pillows. Someone had been hurt. Maybe Chris had actually gone to a doctor’s appointment.

With nothing noteworthy left in the main room, Minho headed for the back toward the bedrooms.

He slipped into the left room, expecting it to be Jeongin’s, but immediately sensed it wasn’t. The space was nearly empty, a stark contrast to the main living area. A bare mattress sat in the corner, covered by a rumpled blanket and pillow. The only sign of life was the open laptop and a pile of papers spread near the edge. All of them, again, were in English. So this was Chris’s room. He tried the laptop, but it was locked, and he didn’t have the time to crack it.

Minho made his way to the closet and pulled it open. Where the room was bare, the closet made up for it. It was crammed with designer labels, flashy club outfits, a bin of tangled accessories, and magazines that tinted his ears pink. That explained where Jeongin had gotten the one from earlier.

He exhaled sharply, glancing back at the room. Something wasn’t right. The closet screamed personality, indulgence, flair. But the room itself had absolutely nothing that gave him any clue who Chris was. It was almost as if they had hidden it on purpose.

He shut the closet door and stepped out, crossing into the room on the right. This one was definitely Jeongin’s. It wasn’t spotless, but it had life.

 A desk with a set of drawers underneath occupied one side of the room, three monitors glowing faintly in the darkness, an extra pair of glasses resting beside a scattered mess of Coke cans and blueprints. A clothes rack leaned in the corner, weighed down by graphic tees and oversized hoodies, baseball caps hung from the top. There were bits of drones, a cracked tablet screen, and at least three half-finished projects all strung out across the floor. A mattress sat low in the corner, half-buried under mismatched pillows and blankets. A jacket draped over the desk chair.

Aside from the mess, the computer setup looked pretty expensive. This was maybe the first time Minho had seen Jeongin ever indulge in anything luxurious, and it wasn’t surprising that it was on a computer. Minho snorted. Him and Chris seemed to be opposites.

Most of the papers on the counters were schematics – some outdated tech, some far too advanced. A blueprint of something with six antennae was half-burned under a soldering iron. Jeongin clearly lived in his own little world. But there was a logic to it, too. Organized chaos. A system someone else wouldn’t understand.

There weren’t many decorations – no posters, no photos on the walls – but the mess, the clutter, the quiet hum of electronics, made it feel real. Lived in. Minho scanned the room, unimpressed. There was nothing worth going through at first glance, but when he moved closer, he spotted a photo strip taped on the wall behind the monitors. Bingo. In the entire home, Minho hadn’t seen a single photo of Chris anywhere, and it was driving him crazy. Carefully, he peeled it off the wall, mindful not to tear the edges– and then froze.

The boy in the pictures: blonde hair, bright freckles, a slim build, and a crooked grin that matched the one in the security footage. Chris. But not Chris.

Yonbok.

Jeongin's brother was fucking Yonbok .

Minho flipped the strip over. Handwritten on the back was Jeongin’s name, right next to an English one: Felix .

He started rifling through the desk drawers at that point, and he found more photos of the two. There were ones of them when they were younger, Felix’s hair short and brown, one of his eyes swollen with a dark bruise, side hugging Jeongin. Neither of them looked too happy in the photo. Another was more chaotic. Felix sat at a computer, face scrunched up, while a hand, Jeongin’s, probably, snuck under his shirt to yank his hair. Minho didn’t linger on that one. Teenage Jeongin sitting inside an abandoned fridge. The last photo was more recent – Jeongin and Felix, both grinning widely and holding up greasy bowls of ramen. Completely innocent.

It hit him all at once. That was why Yonbok’s name never flagged in the system. They weren’t just harboring some tech kid; they’d brought the thief’s sidekick right into their home. God, why hadn’t he put it together sooner? I.N. JeongIN. Fuck. 

Minho dropped into the desk chair, dragging a hand through his hair.

Of course. Out of every random kid in Seoul they could’ve stumbled across, it had to be the one connected to the very person STRAY had been trying to hunt down for the past two weeks. They’d practically handed him a golden ticket. Brought him into the auction.

Shit.

The auction.

He bolted out of the apartment, nearly dropping his phone as he yanked it from his pocket. He tried Jisung’s number, but the call didn’t even ring; just dead silence. He tried Hyunjin’s next. Same result.

Nothing. They’d already cut communication.

“Fuck!” he shouted, slamming the car door beside him. He hit the steering wheel with the flat of his palm, once, twice, breath ragged. He was usually composed, but it was kind of hard at the moment. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to fucking happen.

His hands trembled as he jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, tires screeching as he tore out of the lot, racing toward the auction house.

He needed to get there now.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jisung leaned back in the security chair, the cigarette between his lips burning with a sharp inhale. Smoke curled around his head as he stared at the monitors, brows furrowed.

Something was off. The feeds looked fine at first glance. No static, no glitches. But when he flipped between angles, the inconsistencies became hard to ignore. A hallway packed with people on one screen was suddenly empty from another angle. It wasn’t just one person vanishing either. It was everyone. That’s what made it weird. If one person were the only one disappearing, it’d make a bit more sense; maybe someone was screwing with them. But it wasn’t.

He watched as Seungmin, Chan, and Hyunjin stepped out of the elevator. Switched views, and the elevator never even opened.

He tapped ash into the tray, eyes narrowing. Maybe the feeds were lagging. Or maybe it was intentional. Either way, it wasn’t right.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, planning to call Hyunjin to tell him about his suspicions, but then he noticed the top of the screen and sat up straighter.

What the hell? There wasn’t any internet. When he looked further, he found no service either. Now something definitely wasn’t right. 

With a quiet sigh, he took one last drag of his cigarette before grinding it out in the tray. He hadn’t wanted to leave the security room in the first place; that was the whole reason he’d thought to call Hyunjin instead. The auction was always the worst part of the year. Too many people, too much pressure. Everyone always called him a recluse, which he denied, but it was true. Just stepping onto the main floor earlier had nearly sent him spiraling. He’d downed more drinks than planned, trying to dull the headache, so now he had a headache and a hangover.

But this was bigger than that; he couldn’t ignore it just because his anxiety was clawing at his ribs. Grimacing, he stood, pressed his thumb and eye to the scanner, and stepped out of the only place that still felt safe.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Minho pulled into the parking lot, slapping his car keys in the valet’s hand and marching towards the entrance. People didn’t even question him, parting as soon as they saw the look on his face. He’d probably would’ve ran into someone if he hadn’t been too focused on moving forward. He didn’t think anyone was in actual danger, but the entire auction is at risk, and they needed to get Jeongin – I.N.? – before he made it worse, if he hadn’t already.

He grabbed Changbin’s shirt as he passed the doors, dragging the both of them inside. Changbin waved another security guard to cover the front, turning back to Minho, face etched with concern.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, scanning for any injuries.

“Jeongin is I.N.” The way he said it made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, far too flat to show the panic he felt. It shouldn’t hurt this much. He barely knew the kid. Just a few days, hell, less than a week. That wasn’t long enough to be betrayed.

But it felt like betrayal anyway.

Being in close quarters for so long only made people grow closer faster, and as creepy as it is, even when he wasn’t near Jeongin physically, he still watched him through the camera when he could. He wanted to pick at the kid's brain since he walked through the door.

If Minho had to guess why it hurt so much, it probably had to do with Jeongin seeming so genuine . He had obviously been acting while at the base, but sometimes Minho would get a glimpse of his real personality, and it was compelling, to say the least. If it were any other circumstance, he and Minho could’ve been good friends. He was snarky and sarcastic, but seemed to care fiercely for those he loved. Just this morning, he had made the kid breakfast, giving him a fucking pep talk when he said he was anxious. At least now he had the full picture.

Changbin abruptly stopped in his tracks, and Minho nearly collided with him. The sharp halt brought Minho out of his thoughts just in time to see the rage contorting Changbin’s face. “What?” 

Minho gulped. Out of the 6 of them, Changbin and Jisung – maybe Seungmin – were going to be the most hurt. They had spent the most time with him, after all. Actually, scratch that, Jisung was going to rub it in their faces. He was the most suspicious out of all of them about Jeongin.

He sighed, turning to fully face his friend. “Jeongin is I.N. When I went to his apartment, I found photos of him and Yonbok. Chris is Yonbok– whose name isn’t even Chris, by the way, but Felix. It also looked like he dyed his hair black for the event, which is just fucking great.” Minho ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots. “We need to find them before the Auction is ruined.”

Changbin still looked like he was seething, but he paused at the name. “There was a new guest today who went by the name Kim Felix. Said he was flown in from Australia by G.D. for a business deal.”

Minho’s stomach dropped.

Changbin’s eyes widened. “Shit,” he hissed. “We just let him fucking walk in here!”

Before Minho could reply, a familiar voice cut in. “Who’s here?”

Minho and Changbin’s heads snapped to him. Eyeing them warily, Jisung looked to Minho for answers. “Jagiya, what’s going on?”

“Han-ah,” Minho said gently, “what are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in the security room?”

Jisung didn’t move. “The cameras aren’t syncing with the building layout,” he said, tone clipped. “There’s no internet or signal, either. I went to find Hyunjin, but he’s MIA. So now I’m asking you–” his eyes narrowed slightly, voice dropping, “ –who the hell is here?”

Minho winced. He exchanged a quick, loaded glance with Changbin, then looked back at Jisung.

“I’ll explain everything, I swear,” he said quietly. “But right now, we need to get to Jeongin.”

Minho could see the gears turning in his head, suspicion shifting into worry. He probably thought something bad had happened to him. God, he really hated the position Jeongin put him in.

Still, Jisung nodded stiffly. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The three of them moved in tense silence to the elevator. But just as they stepped in, Changbin stopped short, holding back.

“I’m going to sweep the lower level,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles at his sides without meeting their eyes.

Minho gave him a sharp nod. “Be careful.”

The doors slid shut between them, leaving Minho and Jisung alone in a steel box full of unsaid things.

They moved quickly down the hall, the muffled sounds of the auction starting up beneath them like echoes from another world. When they reached the secondary security room, Minho’s steps slowed. He reached for his holster and drew his gun in one fluid motion.

Jisung flinched. “Hyung–”

Minho shot him a sharp look over his shoulder. Not now. That shut him up, eyes widening when he finally understood, and he quickly pressed his thumb into the scanner before leaning forward to scan his eye too. The alert chimed, and Minho reached to twist the handle. The only problem was that the door didn’t fucking open. 

He had heard the chime, and the door handle had jiggled, but there was something braced against it from the inside.

Jeongin was expecting them.

Minho’s pulse spiked. His eyes flicked up to the corner of the hallway, where a small security camera blinked red, watching them. Mocking them. Of course, he’d rerouted the feed. Of course, he knew exactly when they’d come.

“Shit,” Minho breathed. His jaw clenched as he took a single step back from the door. Now his foot was really going to hurt. He braced himself, adjusting his weight onto his back leg. Goddammit, Jeongin.

“This is bad,” Jisung whispered beside him, but Minho didn’t acknowledge it, already moving.

With a sharp exhale, he drew his leg back and drove it forward, slamming it into the lock just below the handle. The force sent a jarring shock up through his ankle and into his knee, pain flaring hot and immediate. That little bastard had barricaded it tight .

“Fuck–” he winced, staggering back a step. His foot throbbed, heel singing with pain. The door rattled, but didn’t give. Not even a crack. It was expected, of course, anything in this building worth locking up had a door that could take more than a beating. Didn’t make the pain any easier to swallow, though.

And it probably didn’t help that this was the third door he’d tried today.

He shifted his weight, drawing back to kick again, but was stopped short when everything cut. The lights died. Just like that.

A low mechanical hum buzzed through the hallway as doors up and down the corridor let out synchronized beeps, emergency locks disengaged.

He didn’t need to look to know what had happened. Jeongin had flipped the breaker or tripped the main server’s fail-safe. Minho’s mind spun, calculating. The fallback grid was supposed to conserve light and keep the vaults locked. But this– this was a full override. Jeongin had reprogrammed the fallback and opened everything . Just like Chan’s home security . Fuck. And Jisung, who stood next to him, wasn’t in his own security room to fight back.

He didn’t even bother trying to kick again at that point, hurling his shoulder into the door, slamming it hard. Once. Twice. Pain burst sharply through his collarbone. A third time, and yet, nothing happened. 

He collapsed back against the door for a moment, chest heaving as he took sharp intakes of air, his face contorted in pain. He was too fucking old for this shit. Jisung gasped from beside him.

“Fuck it,” he growled, staggering a step back. “Cover your ears.”

He didn’t wait to see if Jisung obeyed, drawing his sidearm and raising it to eye level, aiming squarely at the door handle.

With the cameras disabled, Jeongin had no eyes on them anymore, which might actually work to their advantage, for once. Minho rolled his shoulders, ignoring the swelling that was already beginning to creep in beneath his jacket. He could feel the throb under his skin, muscles screaming in protest. He didn’t care.

He cracked his neck to the side, jaw clenched. Then he pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, deafening in the narrow corridor, and he heard a muffled “Fuck!” scream from behind the door beneath the ringing in his ears.

Minho could faintly recall the blood that wept from his ear, trailing down his neck. He blinked hard, trying to clear the disorientation buzzing like static in his head. He could focus on that later, maybe take a nap. His balance teetered, just slightly. If not for the shot of adrenaline surging through his system, he might’ve passed out right then and there. Hell, maybe he still would.

Focus.

Minho flexed his fingers around the gun, wincing as fire lanced up his arm. His shoulder wasn’t responding right; sluggish, heavy, out of sync with the rest of his body. He hadn’t noticed at first, but now it screamed at him with every movement. The recoil had jolted it violently. Hm. He should probably get that checked out later. He shook his head, dazed. No. Get Jeongin.

Jeongin. Jeongin. Get Jeongin.

Jisung stepped up this time, his boot slamming the door open. The loud bang of metal hitting concrete echoed as a computer chair clattered to the floor, skidding and tumbling. That was what had blocked the door.

Jeongin stood there, in the middle of the collection of monitors, calm. He didn’t run, didn’t beg. He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he pressed a finger to his ear and said, soft and sincere: “I love you, hyung.”

Before he turned around and Minho slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Jeongin’s face.

Hyunjin would want him alive.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jeongin watched the monitors as Minho and Jisung stepped into the elevator, Changbin waiting at the door. With a sigh, he flicked the lollipop stick to the floor and raked a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. They were getting too close. He'd known it was only a matter of time– he just hadn't expected time to run out so soon.

Up until now, things had been manageable. A few close calls here and there, but nothing that couldn't be smoothed over. Whenever Felix strayed too close to getting caught, Jeongin cut his image from the feed or issued a low warning through their comms. Simple stuff. That left him free to concentrate on breaching every layer of security he could find, slowly peeling the auction house open from the inside.

That was before he saw Jisung leave the security room, and he sighed once again. His eyes darted to the door behind him, where the chair was still wedged tightly beneath the handle. Good. With a few swift keystrokes, he returned to his screens, splitting his focus between Jisung’s slow climb to the main floor and the rerouting of emergency power. The process gave him a flicker of déjà vu. Hacking the mansion’s power grid hadn’t felt all that different. The only difference was that he had plunged the place into darkness. This time, he was doing the opposite; preserving just enough power to keep the security room alive while diverting the rest.

If everything went according to plan, it should buy them a little more time.

Felix hadn’t been caught yet, nestled inside the vault safe and sound. No guards lingered nearby; most of them were still scattered across the basement level. In regards to the mission, it was going as smoothly as it could’ve been, no mishaps in sight. Still, Jeongin couldn’t help the way his stomach turned every time Felix reappeared on-screen wearing someone else’s uniform. One minute, a staff member would vanish; the next, Felix would be walking out in their clothes like he’d always belonged. If he had more time, he would have worked on adding Felix into the system, but they were on a time crunch.

Changbin now occupied the elevator, and Jisung and Minho were now making their way towards the security room. Fuck.

Before Jeongin could even think of his next move, a flashing alert lit up one of his monitors:
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS – VAULT LEVEL

His stomach dropped. Fingers flying over the keys, he scrambled to disable the alarm, Felix’s panicked voice cutting through the earpiece.

 “Innie, please tell me you can turn that off, or–or something! Christ, I don’t fucking know! I can’t get the door open!”

Jeongin couldn’t help the waver in his voice as he answered, working back into the power grid. “Shit, um, okay. Okay, I’ve got something, but when I do this, you need to get out of here, hyung. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“What? No, I’m not–”

“Felix,” Jeongin snapped. They don’t have time for this. “Shut the fuck up and listen. I will be fine . You won’t.” That was a lie. Jeongin won’t be, but Felix was his top priority. He had already decided that saving Felix was more important than his life, and he wasn’t backing down now. “I severed the outbound signals in time,” he continued, fingers blurring over the console, “so no alarms reached the top floors yet, but that doesn’t change the people in the basement who had heard it. The second you step out of that vault, they’ll be on your ass.” On one of the monitors, Jeongin saw Changbin step out of the elevator. Shit. He’d been hoping to trap him in there, buy more time. No such luck.

Just then, the door handle rattled. Jeongin flinched, breath catching, then winced as something heavy– probably a boot –slammed into the other side. He was running out of time.

Felix heard it too. “Jeongin, what the hell is that noise?” he demanded.

“Lix, we don’t have the fucking time for this!” Jeongin hissed into the mic, barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me come down there and drag your panicked ass out myself. Get your knife out and go!”  

On the monitor, Minho stared directly into the security camera outside the room, and he knew his time was up. Jeongin clicked the final command.

The banging got more sloppy, probably painful, and then suddenly stopped short. He lifted his head up, straining to hear anything that could’ve told him why they stopped, before a loud crack echoed from the door.

The screens all dissolved into static. The lights above him flickered once, then died. He heard the shift behind the door; the way the banging grew more frantic, more desperate. His fingers clenched around the table edge, white-knuckled as he forced himself to breathe through his nose. Calm. Stay calm.

The security system should be fried just long enough. Felix had a window. That’s all Jeongin could give him now.

The banging outside became erratic– sloppier, louder. Minho was probably hurting himself, but that didn’t stop him. And then, all at once, it stopped.

Jeongin lifted his head, heart pounding, trying to hear anything that might explain the sudden silence.

The answer came in the sharp crack of gunfire.

“ Fuck! ” he shouted, jerking backward. The handle. They shot the damn handle.

He should’ve seen that coming.

The door burst open, the chair skidding across the floor. Jeongin didn’t even look. He reached up, touched his earpiece with shaking fingers. Just one last thing to do.

“I love you, hyung,” he said softly, smiling through the chaos, hoping Felix could hear it, feel it, even now. Then he turned.

And the world snapped to black.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It took Felix longer than planned, searching through crates like a madman. Shit, shit, shit. His hands trembled as they tore through silk-wrapped boxes and neatly labeled contraband. Bottles of hundred-year-old wine shattered underfoot. Artwork in intricate frames thrown without care. None of this matters. Where the fuck is it?

He didn’t have time for this. Every second that ticked by was a second closer to the end of his window, of the vault access, his life. The bloody souvenirs were going to expire soon, and he didn’t have another way out if that happened. 

He despised G.D., but it was still ingrained in Felix’s brain that he had to be useful to the man. To make him proud. If he doesn’t hurry up, not only would the eye and thumb he killed a man to take be useless, but he would be useless, too.

It wasn’t fucking fair . He wasn’t even old enough to graduate from college yet. He was a kid. No fucking kid should have to have responsibilities like this.

And Jeongin . God, Jeongin. Felix couldn’t die inside a vault when his kid brother would be stranded with those psychos. If Felix didn’t follow through, G.D. would no doubt crash his apartment and hunt Jeongin down as compensation—an eye for an eye. The thought was a little more morbid when he literally had an eye in his pocket.

Felix couldn’t have protected Jeongin before, but he would now. Part of that job was to make sure he got out of this alive so that he could drop off the loot and make his way back. There shouldn’t be any reason for Jeongin to get caught so far, so he would be safe until Felix could make his way back.

He snapped out of his thought process when he caught a glimpse of himself in a polished sculpture’s reflection– disheveled, wild-eyed, desperate. God, Felix, get a grip.

He couldn’t help the way he tossed the luxuries around like trash, digging through anything that might resemble the case G.D. 

He couldn’t help the way he tossed the luxuries aside like trash. Velvet-lined jewelry boxes, rare inks, golden watches; it all meant nothing compared to the tin case G.D. had risked his life for, but so far, he had come up with nothing.

He let out a throaty yell, dragging his hands through his hair. His foot lashed out and struck a crate, sending it toppling with a crash. “Goddamnit!”

He didn’t linger on the moment. His frustration twisted tight and shoved him back into motion, dropping to his knees and scrabbling through the mess, eyes scanning for anything that could resemble a tin makeup kit, whatever that meant. He ignored the shards of glass digging into his knees, shins, and hands. He’d dealt with worse. Blood slicked his palms and soaked through the pants of his guard uniform, no doubt ruined now. Hopefully, he could avoid any more run-ins if he got out of here.

Just when he was about to give up and accept he wasn’t going to make it out of here alive, the faintest reflection of silver caught his eye beneath a pile of tangled jewels. Please, please . He dug deeper frantically, scared his mind was just playing tricks on him, when his fingers finally glided on the smooth tin of the case.

Felix froze for half a second. Then a laugh – breathy, half-hysterical – pushed past his lips. He slumped forward over the pile, not quite lying in it now that the pain was starting to make itself noticed, clutching the case to his chest like it was sacred. He quickly slid it into his pocket, making sure it was safely tucked away.

He actually found it. He did it. Holy shit.

He blinked back the sting in his eyes, but a few tears broke through anyway. They weren’t from fear or pain, but from the sheer, disbelieving relief that washed over him. The tension that was coiled tight in his muscles washed away, and if he weren’t on such a time crunch, he’d probably lie down for a few moments. 

He stood with shaky knees, finally taking in the damage he had caused in his frenzy. He blanched, looking at the piles of broken luxury left in his wake. Shit. He and Jeongin actually need to flee the country now. He probably made their situation ten times worse in his panic. In his defense, he didn’t really have control of his body when he did that. He made sure to drop the stack of black cards he had swiped earlier. It probably couldn’t cover how rare most of the items were, but he felt bad looking at the broken paintings.

He turned around, pulling the bloody souvenirs out from the bag in his pocket, holding them up to the scanners. But they didn’t scan. In fact, a loud alarm blared throughout the vault, bright lights flickering. Fuck. 

Felix froze.

The lights strobed in time with the pounding in his chest, turning the room into a dizzying mess of color and panic. He stared dumbly at the scanner, still holding up the severed body parts, the blood now drying and tacky against his gloves. His breath caught in his throat. No way. No fucking way.

“No. No, no, no– come on ,” he hissed, trying again. The machine chirped an angry red. Again. “Scan, goddamnit, I didn’t take that long!”

“Fuck!” He shook the limp finger as if that might jolt it back to life, frantically reapplying it to the reader. Nothing. Just more red. “Work, you bastard!”

He dropped the severed limbs, slapping a finger onto the earpiece. “Innie, please tell me you can turn that off, or–or something! Christ, I don’t fucking know! I can’t get the door open!”

Jeongin’s voice answered, equally as panicked. “Shit, um, okay. Okay, I’ve got something, but when I do this, you need to get out of here, hyung. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“What? No, I’m not–”

“Felix,” Jeongin snapped, effectively cutting him off. “Shut the fuck up and listen. I will be fine . You won’t. I severed the outbound signals in time, so no alarms reached the top floors yet, but that doesn’t change the people in the basement who had heard it. The second you step out of that vault, they’ll be on your ass.”

Felix could hear banging in the background as Jeongin spoke, cutting through with static. “Jeongin, what the hell is that noise?” he demanded.

“Lix, we don’t have the fucking time for this!” he whispered shouted, “Don’t make me come down there and drag your panicked ass out myself. Get your knife out and go!”

Before Felix could protest again, everything shut down at once. The lights blinked off, sirens dying mid-wail. Then came the hiss of air pressure releasing.

The vault door clicked open, as every door down the hallway unlocked in sequence with small beeps harmonizing. 

God. Jeongin was insane . Brilliant, beautiful, terrifying – and so dead when Felix got his hands on him.

He reached for his knife tucked in his shoe, putting it into his pants pocket for easy access, and snuck down the halls. Footsteps echoed around him; sharp, frenzied, and everywhere. Shouts bounced down the halls as the guards scrambled desperately, trying to find him and the cause of the blackout. He flattened against the wall, heart thudding in time with the distant clatter of boots. There was no light source now. The basement had been plunged into a heavy blackness that felt suffocating, alive. Only the erratic beams of flashlights swept through the dark, cutting jagged paths across the walls and floor.

He did his best to blend in with the shadows, using the random strings of light to make his way towards the Janitor’s closet. Even if he wanted just to drag another guard away and cut the third thumb off of whatever poor soul he found, which he didn’t, the elevators were out of commission with the power out. That had been purposeful; no escape for intruders. Clever. And definitely illegal. But the vaults were fireproof, and the corridors were equipped with sprinklers and air vents. They must’ve thought it was enough. He guessed they didn’t think some random closet would matter, but it worked in his favor, anyhow. 

He almost made it, too, before a hand snapped out of the dark and clamped around his throat, shoving him back hard into the wall. His skull cracked against the concrete with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. God damnnit .

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Mixed pov:

All of the other guards had conveniently left the hallway they were in, so there were no witnesses around.

The man who had his grip around his neck was a couple of inches shorter than him, but he made up for it with the pure amount of strength he put behind his hand as he pinned Felix against the wall. He couldn’t maneuver his way out of this one, not when his combat style needed space and an actual fighting chance at strength.

Changbin leaned forward, dragging Yonbok down a couple of inches so the other had to stare up at him. He was tired of looking up all the time, sue him. 

The boy was thrashing violently in his grasp,  one hand clawing at his forearm while his legs hooked tightly around Changbin’s in a desperate attempt to bring him down. It was kind of endearing. Too bad the kid was lighter, weaker, and completely outmatched.

His hands and legs were slick with blood, painting red streaks across the sleeves and pants of Changbin’s suit. It should’ve bothered him. Ruining a suit this nice usually did. But it didn’t. He’d ruined far better ones on far worse nights.

“Yonbok, just who I was looking for,” he cooed mockingly, tightening his grip slightly. “Want to explain why you’re down here? I don’t know if you noticed, but this floor is for staff only.”

“Yonbok,” Changbin drawled, “just who I was looking for.” He gave the other a mocking pout, tightening his grip just enough to cut off any clever retort. “Care to explain what the fuck you’re doing down here? I don’t know if you noticed, but this floor is for staff only .”

His smile widened when Felix bared his teeth like a cornered animal. Good. Let him squirm.

Felix couldn’t help but think that, honestly? This situation couldn’t get any better.

Sure, being half-crushed in a chokehold wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but Muscles had taken the bait like a champ. Felix had been banking on that short temper, the cocky grip, the way the guy clearly enjoyed throwing his weight around. He suspected there was a grudge simmering beneath the surface – which, fair – and nothing's more satisfying than getting the upper hand. 

That’s why he didn’t hesitate.

With one fluid movement, he slipped the blade from his pocket and pressed it under Changbin’s chin, the cool metal biting against skin. Not deep, just enough to draw a single, sharp bead of blood that welled up like punctuation. The tension in the air snapped taut.

He stopped thrashing, legs still coiled tight around the other’s, and let a slow, amused smile creep across his face.

“I don’t know, Muscles,” Felix purred, voice low and syrupy-sweet. There was an obvious strain to it, but that’s to be expected. “ You tell me?”

He unhooked his legs with deliberate slowness, the way someone might disarm a trap they’d just survived by sheer luck. As the pressure around his neck lifted reluctantly, Felix straightened, dragging in a breath and rolling his sore shoulders as if to say thanks for the workout. Muscles looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel, much to Felix’s delight. 

Even with the knife still close, Felix could tell the man was weighing his options. Fight? Flee? Try and twist his way out of the situation?

Felix didn’t give him the chance.

While Changbin bristled with tension, still too proud to flinch, Felix slipped his hand around the man’s waist with ease. His fingers brushed against the holster, cool leather against hot skin, and he almost laughed. How had this guy not reached for it earlier? Did he think brute strength would be enough?

Always underestimating me. They always do.

He was a bit too close to the man for comfort– Felix was taller but not that tall, so he had to lean forward in order to reach it. If the man wanted to, he could snap his arms around Felix and crush him again, and maybe that possibility should’ve scared him. But the knife, which was still teasing the underside of the man’s chin, was a solid little insurance policy. Try anything, and it was going in, no hesitation.

When Felix got a firm grip on the pistol, he leaned back with a grin that could only be described as feral . Felix admittedly was stealing G.D.’s tactic at acting crazy, but he had to admit, he understood why the man played the persona so often. Even though Felix was still incredibly anxious and in pain, acting unhinged was so liberating. There were no rules to stick to, and it gave him the same rush he felt when he had swiped the Rolex. God, he can't wait to be off G.D.’s leash after this.

“Ooh, even better! ” he sang, wiggling the pistol for emphasis. He switched the gun and knife around, digging the barrel into the man's jugular. He had a feeling it was loaded when the man started to sweat. “Jeez, you really should’ve gone for this first. But I guess you let your ego get the best of you, huh, Muscles?” He clicked his tongue, head tilted with exaggerated pity. “Rookie mistake.”

His expression darkened a shade. “Now turn around.” The shift in his voice was immediate, playfulness gone as quickly as it appeared. It was clear he wasn’t joking anymore.

He moved the gun lower and nudged the pistol against Changbin’s side,  tilting his head toward the nearby janitor’s closet.

Changbin wasn’t sure he’d ever felt true humiliation until now. Being dragged into a janitor’s closet by some psychotic twink? Yeah. That did it.

They weren’t actually sure if Yonbok worked for BANG, but the personality felt like he got his own personal G.D. to terrorize him for the time being. He and Jeongin were a matching set; same recklessness, same flair for drama, same irritating habit of calling him Muscles. Changbin didn’t need much confirmation on whether they were brothers or not after spending 5 minutes with him.

He didn’t understand why they were going into the janitor’s closet of all places, though. Maybe so that Changbin couldn’t chase after him when he bolted, but with the doors unlocked, it wouldn’t do much. There was nowhere for him to run, either, with the elevator shut down.

Then the door opened, and Changbin froze. Sitting at the top of the wall was a thin window, small enough that Changbin wouldn’t fit, but enough space for Yonbok to crawl through. Fuck. Changbin didn’t think anyone even knew this existed.

But yonbok did. Of course he did. With the way he had acted out in the hall, it was easy for Yonbok’s reputation to slip through his mind. He was considered a ghost story for a reason, and this just proved it. He was the first person to live after breaking into STRAY’s property, and now he had a way out after stealing from the biggest mafia event in Korea that had literally no other holes in its foundation. But he found one, anyway. Changbin was kind of jealous STRAY hadn’t found him first. Jeongin, too. BANG were some lucky motherfuckers.

While he stood there stunned, Yonbok didn’t waste the opportunity. A sharp kick to the back of Changbin’s knee sent him crashing down with a grunt, his knees slamming into cold cement. There was the distinct smell of blood somewhere, but he didn’t dare move to find out where it came from.

Changbin glared up at Yonbok as he circled around him, trying to make the hatred he felt obvious without words. He squatted low, gun still trained between Changbin’s eyes, and there was nothing casual about the way he held it. It wasn’t the first time that weapon had been used, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Changbin stayed quiet. He knew better than to try something dumb. That was his own gun Yonbok was using, and he never bluffed with it. 

If Yonbok saw his eyes, he simply smiled at the sight while he tugged Changbin’s tie off.

“Hm,” he said, gaze burning into Changbin’s soul. “Good enough. Strip.”

The words didn’t register at first. And then they did.

Changbin’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “W–what?”

Yonbok laughed in his face, and Changbin's ears went pink. “Relax,” he snorted, “I need your suit. You’re all big and bulky, but it’s good enough. If you want, you can try to squeeze into the guard uniform after.” he waved his empty hand vaguely at the bloodied uniform he was still wearing. “Might get some glass in you, though.” he winced dramatically, like he gave a shit, but his expectant gaze didn’t change.

He really was trying to take away Changbin’s dignity, and it was working. He wanted to tell Yonbok to go to hell, but instead, he reached for his jacket.

After unceremoniously dumping his suit on the floor, Changbin sat stiffly as Yonbok began to change, tossing his bloody uniform in Changbin’s direction. He wasn’t holding the gun anymore; it sat next to him on a utility shelf instead, and from where Changbin sat, there was no way he would make it in time. He’d seen Yonbok’s reaction time in the hallway, and it was much quicker than Changbin’s. He wouldn’t make it two steps. So instead, he focused on the mangled uniform. 

Yonbok had taken pity on him, cutting slits along the sides of the pants and sleeves off the shirt completely to make room for Changbin’s broader frame. He would never admit out loud, but he was grateful for that. Even though he was going to look so fucking stupid.

Changbin tried not to stare as Yonbok changed, but it was hard not to. Under the moonlight filtering through the high window, his scars were unmistakable, slashing across his ribs, shoulders, back. Blood painted his legs from the knee down, glass shards catching the light like glitter. He hadn’t been kidding about the glass. It was like when they had accidentally seen Jeongin’s scars, but that's where the similarities ended. Yonboks were uncoordinated and sloppy, each one a different shape and reason behind it. There were bullet scars, nicks from glass, and uneven suture lines. It looked like he was Frankenstein. Most of the scars had almost disappeared entirely, but it was still a sight to see. Maybe Yonbok wasn’t as invincible as everyone said.

When Yonbok caught him looking, Changbin snapped his gaze away.

Once fully dressed, Yonbok returned, gun now loosely held in one hand. He crouched in front of Changbin and held out the tie. “Wrap yourself up,” he said, nodding at the utility shelf behind him. “Make it convincing. I’m checking.”

Changbin took the tie with a clenched jaw. There wasn’t a choice. He wrapped it around his wrists and the metal bar, tugging it tight until his fingers tingled. His ears burned. When they finally catch him, he’s going to murder Yonbok with his bare hands, ego be damned.

Yonbok tugged cruelly at the tie with one hand, jerking Changbin’s body forward like a leash, his neck straining against the pressure. He gritted his teeth, trying not to react, trying not to give Yonbok the satisfaction, but the sharp jolt caught him off guard. It didn’t budge, much to Yonbok’s delight.

Yonbok smirked, standing up, then tapped his earpiece. “I.N.”

Changbin’s head jerked up instinctively, but the man didn’t even glance in his direction. “Hello– what do you mean by that? I.N. ?”

No way. Minho had him already?

So that meant Jeongin was out of the game.

His stomach flipped with satisfaction, and he smirked, finally feeling like he had the upper hand since the hallway.

“What’s wrong, Bokkie? Something happen to I.N.?” he cooed, mock sweetness coating the venom underneath.

Yonbok’s head snapped in his direction, eyes void of any amusement now. The playful mask he’d worn before was gone, replaced by something cold. Changbin’s smirk twitched. He’d misjudged. Again. 

“Hey, Muscles.” Yonbok crouched again, face entirely too close for his liking. His voice was uncharacteristically flat as he spoke. “You ever wonder how I got into the vault?”

Changbin froze.

He hadn’t thought about it. Not really. He’d assumed it was all I.N. – the kid was a tech genius, after all. Maybe they’d hacked the locks or… he didn’t know, add him to the system?

Yonbok didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m sure you know about the finger and retinal scan, yeah?”

He tapped the barrel of the gun against Changbin’s jaw, not hard enough to hurt, and used it to turn his head to across the room.

Changbin stayed still, fists tightening around the metal bar. His throat bobbed. The scans… fuck.

Them room wasn’t too big, but there was enough space for 3 shelves. The light from the moon didn’t cover the entire space, though, and even as he squinted, he couldn’t see anything amiss. He didn’t like what Yonbok was insinuating, though.

“Can’t see? Here, I'll make it easier on you.” Yonbok pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight.

Light flooded the closet in a sudden burst, blinding compared to the dark they were surrounded by. Changbin flinched automatically, vision going white around the edges. He squeezed his eyes shut, but Yonbok slapped his chin again, harder this time.

“No,” he said sharply. “Look.” Changbin thought that if he didn’t, Yonbok would peel his eyelids back.

He blinked the light back into focus, head pounding. He followed the beam.

And there it was. The sight wasn’t anything worse than what he’d done himself, but the implications made him freeze. On the other side of the closet, A slumped figure lay against the wall, very obviously dead. Changbin’s breath caught when he saw the blood pooled beneath his hand. His mutilated hand.

The thumb was missing. His eye, too, gouged out, socket dark and gory. The blood had dried thick on his cheek, covering the majority of his chest as well. He was in his briefs, too, and Changbin belatedly realized he was wearing the man’s uniform.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” Yonbok said casually, any indication of emotions wiped clean. It was like he didn’t even care that someone had died at his hands. He really was psychotic. “But you know how close the eye is to the brain. Couldn’t be helped.”

He paused until Changbin’s eyes dragged back to him.

“Had to take some college kid’s thumb upstairs to get down here, too,” Yonbok added with a shrug. “I think he’s still alive, so when service is back up, make sure to call an ambulance.”

Changbin swallowed hard. His brain scrambled to process the information, but it was like trying to think underwater. How many people had he taken apart just to get in here? How far was he willing to go in order to get the job done?

Yonbok stood tall, dusting his borrowed pants off. His voice dropped, almost a whisper now.

“And Muscles?”

Changbin looked up, heart pounding, throat dry.

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

There was no dramatic pause. No witty one-liner. Just the sharp crack as the butt of the gun slammed into the side of his head, the world going black around him.

Felix climbed up the shelf in front of the window, inhaling sharply through his nose, trying to steady the way his chest stuttered. He almost killed Muscles. The gun had been right there. The rage had surged through his veins like fire, and for a second, he’d felt nothing but clarity. One clean shot, one less problem. An eye for an eye if they hurt Jeongin.

But he hadn’t done it.

Why the hell hadn’t he done it?

It took every ounce of control in his body, every blood-slicked fingertip to lift that gun and hold it steady without pulling the trigger. Maybe that was weakness, maybe it was restraint. Either way, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

There was nothing he could do right now, though. While shutting down the entire system had saved Felix, it had also trapped him. He had no way to get to the second floor, not to mention he didn’t even know where Jeongin was. His jaw clenched at the thought.

As long as Felix got out of here, though, Jeongin would live. They wouldn’t kill him. Not yet. They wouldn’t get rid of the only thing that would bring him back when they needed bait. And if they did, he’d have G.D. rain hell on them. STRAY may have been the second largest mafia, but BANG still came in first.

A few bruises… he could live with. Felix couldn’t, but Jeongin could. He had to. But the thought of anyone laying a finger on him–

Felix gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. It felt like someone had shoved a knife under his ribs and twisted.

Before he made his escape, he grabbed Muscles' phone from where it was still tucked into his pocket and put his phone number into Felix’s phone. They would need to negotiate later. Then he tossed it over into the man’s lap, landing with a soft thud. The man sat with his legs sprawled in front of him, head lolled into his chest as blood ran down the side of his temple.

Felix had to turn back towards the window in order to stop himself from almost shooting the man all over again.

He instead lifted the gun up, hand trembling slightly, and smashed it into the glass. The recoil from the impact jarred his entire arm, the sting immediate. Blood welled up along his palm and knuckles, mixing with the shards already embedded in his skin from the vault. He let out a short, sharp gasp through his teeth, trying not to cry out.

God, that hurt. He couldn’t show it earlier – couldn’t give Muscles the satisfaction – but he was in too much pain. Way too much pain. And probably lost a good chunk of blood too. In all honesty, he didn’t know how he was still standing. He decided on pure spite.

It took a couple of tries, but eventually the glass shattered, sprinkling across the closet. The cold air bit at his skin, wind blowing harshly into the room. Now that the window wasn’t in the way, he could hear distant panic over the crowd. Perfect.

Felix braced his hands on the frame and slipped through the window. Shards scraped his forearms as he pushed his upper body through the slim opening, his legs following after he took a quick breath. He was sure his sleeves and pants were soaked in blood, and he was grateful Muscles wore black for the event. His navy suit from earlier would not have done him any favors. When he was finally completely outside, he flipped onto his back, lying with his arms splayed out beside him, reminiscent of a starfish. 

Felix’s chest worked overtime, trying to catch up with the exhaustion that plagued his body. It felt like there were weights on every joint of his body, holding him in place on the hard, cold concrete. His legs were killing him, fire from the knees down, and his hands had little jolts of pain every time a muscle would twitch. It’d be so easy to just stay down. If Jeongin didn’t make it out of this, he’d have nothing left for him. He had spent the past ten years trying to be the best brother he could be, the past five risking his safety just so he could give Innie the life he deserved. But did it matter now?

Yes . Jeongin wasn’t dead yet, so Felix needed to get out of there fast before he ended up collapsing on the street. Groaning as he stood, he shoved himself forward, forcing one foot in front of the other. He just needed to get to the street.

The alley opened up, noise from every direction surrounding him. He squinted through the dark, a blurred sea of bodies pushing their way out into the parking lot. It was just the distraction he needed. It was absolute chaos, which Felix thrived on. No one fought, but the hundreds that were inside the auction house were now piled out onto the street, trying to shove their way back to their cars. The Valet just kind of stood there dumbly, which was entirely fair in Felix’s opinion. Maybe the power outage caused more of an issue than he had originally thought. They were smart to leave, however, because Felix was sure that anything valuable in that vault was thoroughly ruined. The power outage just saved them from wasting their time.

Shit, he was getting distracted. He put on his best panicked expression he could muster as he shoved his way into the parking lot, hoping to slip out onto the street undetected. The bodies shoving into him in all directions made every pain in his body grow tenfold, and he could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as he was jostled back and forth. How the hell was he

supposed to get home like this? The street wasn’t far now, but it felt as if he were miles out from shore, trying to fight his way towards land.

He kept pushing, though, and eventually, he reached the shore. The hard part was over. He almost cried from relief, but he wasn’t done just yet. He ducked into the nearest alley, sharp pain spiking through his legs with every jarring step. His breath was starting to come in ragged bursts, but he fought through it, anyway. Alleyways blurred past him. Blocks melted together. He wasn’t even sure where he was going– just away . He just needed to get away. Everything else could wait.

He wasn’t too worried about being tailed. Jeongin, his genius little brother, had cut any contact they could’ve made with each other, and at least two of them were split from the main group, considering Muscles was locked in the basement and there was someone with Jeongin on the second floor. He didn’t know how close their syndicate was, but Felix himself would focus on trying to find his teammates first. Still, Felix wasn’t stupid enough to assume they were down for good. As soon as the power was back up, they would chase him to the ends of the world. He no doubt was going to cause a P.R. nightmare for them, word spreading about the thief who had survived Hwang Hyunjin’s wrath and managed to steal as well. But his focus was simple now: regroup. Find Jeongin. Get the hell out of Dodge.

His pace slowed. He couldn’t keep running forever. The last drops of adrenaline were drying up fast, leaving his limbs heavy, trembling. Every inch of his body begged him to stop, and he knew there was no way in hell he was making it back home.

He didn’t even know what street he was on. It was almost deserted, though, thank god. Rows of old cars lined the sidewalks like rusted-out corpses. He didn’t hesitate, making his way to the first one he saw, a beat-up SUV that had grime-coated windows and junk packed tight inside. Perfect. Without a second thought, he drew the pistol and smashed the butt against the glass. The shatter was loud, painfully so. Felix flinched, heart leaping to his throat. But no alarm had rung out.

He exhaled a shaky breath. One small mercy.

He reached through the broken window and popped the lock. Sharp edges sliced across his wrist as he fumbled with the latch, but he barely noticed anymore. It all just blended into the constant throb that covered every inch of his body.

He yanked the door open and climbed inside, careful to avoid the shattered glass as he maneuvered into the backseat. The interior smelled like mildew and something vaguely rotten, but he didn’t care. He was out of sight, which is all he could’ve hoped for.

The SUV was stuffed with junk– boxes, clothes, food wrappers, and god knows what else. Someone lived in here. Or tried to. Felix embraced it, though, shoving aside a stack of magazines and nestling himself into the back, cocooning himself in clutter.

He found a medkit, bottled water, and a blanket in one of the boxes, and he almost cried. At least he wouldn’t bleed out. Whether it was god or karma or just Jeongin watching over him somehow, he’d take it.

 He decided to focus on his hands first, figuring they would be the easiest to take care of.

He winced as he tried to flex his fingers. They were raw, red, and littered with glass. He fumbled open the medkit, finding a pair of dull tweezers. This is going to suck. He braced himself as best as he possibly could and dived in. Each shard stung like fire, and he gritted his teeth hard enough his jaw ached. When it got too much, he bit down on the collar of his shirt instead, muffling his whimpers into cotton. He worked quickly, rinsing the wounds with water before applying ointment and wrapping his palms in gauze with trembling fingers.

Good. That’s good. You’re okay. Keep going. For some reason, the voice sounded less like himself and more like Jeongin.

His legs were next – and worse.

Much worse.

He didn’t even try to peel the pants off. The blood had glued the fabric to his skin, and pulling would only rip it worse. So, he grabbed the knife from his shoe, wincing at the bend, and hacked the pants off at the thigh, turning them into ragged shorts. God, he had ruined so many expensive outfits tonight. 

Then, he got to work.

He didn’t make it far before the pain broke him. The moment he dragged the tweezers across a gash, something in him cracked. He felt the sob rise before he could stop it. One tear slid down his cheek, then another. It wasn’t long before he was full-on wailing, shirt still muffling his cries as snot dribbled from his nose and his sight blurred.

Felix cried silently, desperately, as he cleaned the wounds. It wasn’t just the pain. It was everything. The mission, the betrayal, the close calls, Jeongin’s pale face upstairs. He let the tears fall. Just for a while. He deserved to break. He deserved to be able to let the facade fall and be the little kid he was before he grew up too fast.

Then he bandaged himself up as best he could, hand shaking when he tied the last knot.

When he was finally finished, wrapped in white bandages anywhere he saw fit, he slipped the blazer off and bunched it under his head, using it as a makeshift pillow, and he drew the blanket up to his shoulders, arms wrapped tight around his chest.

The SUV creaked in the wind, the only sound in the empty street.

He didn’t dream that night.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Jagiya, love of my life, can you not work any faster?”

“ ‘Jagiya’ me one more time, and I'm shoving this keyboard down your throat.”

Minho paced like a caged animal, one hand gripping his hair so tightly it felt like he might actually rip it out. The power was still down. Every second that ticked by was one step closer to losing Yonbok for good. Logically, he knew the guy was still trapped in the basement with Changbin – assuming Changbin still had the upper hand. But as soon as the system rebooted? Yonbok could vanish. Just like that.

If he managed to slip downstairs without being caught, what was stopping him from doing the same on the way out?

And with that innocent, wide-eyed face? Minho wouldn't be surprised if half the guards held the door open for him on his way out.

Only Minho, Changbin, and Jisung knew about Yonbok's identity, and they had no way to inform the others with the service out, too. And with no power and no cell service, they were effectively muzzled. Either Changbin took him down fast, or Jisung rebooted the system before it was too late. Otherwise, they were screwed.

Jisung was still typing away furiously at the keyboard, the screen flashing codes and firewalls and god knows what else too fast before Minho could process any of the information. Whatever the hell Jeongin had done, it wasn’t simple. Somehow, the kid had rerouted all the backup power straight into the security room, and the security room alone, so the monitors ran without issue. But besides that, the entire Auction House was down.

Minho’s eyes flicked to Jeongin, slumped in a computer chair nearby, wrists and ankles bound tight. He looked small now, similar to how he had curled up in bed just the night before. Minho couldn’t help but be bitter. 

The kid was an absolute genius . Minho could admit that now. How could someone who had the barest university knowledge on computers knock every hacker in the country on their asses, and still be a kid?

What a waste.

If they’d found him earlier… if things had gone differently… maybe Jeongin could’ve been one of theirs. But now? Minho wasn’t sure the kid would survive for much longer. No one in STRAY was known for their forgiving nature.

He gritted his teeth and shook the thought off.

He was getting restless, though. His shoulder throbbed, each pulse sending sparks of white-hot pain through his arm. They figured out –not like it was hard–  he had dislocated his shoulder when slamming it into the door earlier, and the swelling was only getting worse by the second. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingers, pins and needles crawling up his fingertips. He must’ve pinched a nerve.

Damn it.

He flexed his fingers, or tried to. Nothing. Just a sluggish twitch. He wasn’t going to be any help with one dead arm. Not like this. He needed to move. To do something.

“Fuck it,” he hissed, jaw clenched, and shoved his back against the wall. He knew what he was about to do was a terrible idea, but it wouldn’t be the worst decision he made today.

The pain that followed nearly blacked him out.

He bit down on the scream, a dragged-out grunt escaping his mouth from behind his clenched teeth. The pop of his shoulder shifting back into place wasn’t clean; it felt jagged, like someone had hammered it back in with broken glass. His knees buckled, and he had to slam his hand against the wall to stay upright. But the relief was so good .

Jisung’s head snapped up. “ Hyung– ”

“I’m fine,” Minho spat, voice hoarse. He didn’t mean to snap, but he couldn’t control his voice in turn for being able to stand at all. Priorities. He’d be sure to apologize later for it, though. “Keep going; focus on getting the elevator running, don’t worry about anything else.”

Jisung hesitated, but one glance at Minho’s face and he knew better than to argue. He turned back to the keyboard, muttering, “Power’s nearly back. Two more subsystems. I can get the elevator running, but–”

“Then do it. ”

Minho shoved himself off the doorframe, shoulder burning, and stumbled down the hallway. He was starting to gain control of his fingers again, but it barely registered in his mind before he was slamming his thumb into the scanner. The elevator opened, and Minho didn’t wait for the doors to close before he was pressing the button for the basement.

It was still pitch black, the power having not been restored fully. Minho brought his phone out with his lame hand, using the other to hold his gun. Another good day to be ambidextrous. The door slid open, and he stepped out into the basement. 

Guards swarmed the basement, checking rooms and running in circles with no direction. None of them had answers. Minho tried. He grabbed the nearest one by the shoulder, demanded information.

“Have you seen them? Changbin? Anything? ”

But no one had.

They were gone. No one had seen them leave. No one had seen them at all .

Panic started to buzz at the edges of Minho’s chest. Sharp, rising. He ignored it, forced himself to think. There has to be something. He was a detective, for fuck’s sake. This was his entire job.

And then – there it was.

A singular drop of blood. Then another. A trail. How the hell had no one noticed? The lighting was shit. That had to be it; they just weren’t looking closely enough. Hyunjin needs to hire better guards.

Minho followed it without calling anyone over. He didn’t trust them not to fuck it up. The trail ended at a janitor’s closet, the handle smeared with blood; one full, wet handprint that turned his stomach.

Please be Yonbok’s. Please.

Bracing himself, Minho threw the door open.

At the top of the wall, wind howled through a shattered window, broken glass scattered across the floor. Fuck . 

And in the center of the room lay Changbin.

He was slumped on the ground, his suit replaced by a torn and bloodied guard uniform, hands bound behind his back. His face was pale, head tilted at an unnatural angle. And across from him, a guard lay sprawled in a pool of blood. One eye gouged out, thumb missing. The coppery smell hit Minho like a wall.

Fuck. Fuck–

“Motherfucker!” Minho dropped to his knees, gun clattering to the side as he reached for Changbin.

He cupped his hand behind Changbin’s neck, trying to lift his face. The man’s head lolled sideways, limp– but not lifeless. Minho pressed trembling fingers to his throat.

A pulse.

Still there, still drumming strong. He was just unconscious. He’s okay .

Minho let out a shaky breath, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. “Jesus, Bin,” he whispered. “What the hell happened to you…”

He eased forward, pulling Changbin against him, trying not to jostle him too much. The tie around his wrists were tight, biting into the skin. Minho fumbled with the knots until they gave, and the moment they did, Changbin’s body sagged forward, collapsing against him with full weight. It was killing his shoulder, but he’d dislocate it over and over if it meant Changbin was safe.

“Shit– okay, okay, I got you,” Minho muttered, shifting to support him properly. 

When everything was over, he was definitely teasing the man– with love, of course –about his weight. He sat back fully, holding Changbin close, one hand steadying his head while the other gently patted his cheek. “Come on, Bin. Come back to me. You’re not getting out of this that easily,” he tried to give a weak chuckle, but he didn’t think it sounded right. “I think Seungmin would kill me.”

No response.

Minho slapped his cheek a little harder. “Wake up, dammit.”

A low groan rumbled from Changbin’s throat, and Minho nearly wept with relief. His grip tightened.

“There you go, Bin-ah.” His voice cracked. “You okay? Talk to me, please .”

“Where.. where is he?” Changbin mumbled, eyes squeezing shut before fluttering weakly open. He blinked up at Minho, pupils slow to track. Of course, he would focus on Yonbok right now. The man was almost as bad as Chan with how committed he was to his job.

“He broke out through that window,” Minho muttered, nodding toward the jagged hole in the wall above them. The wind still howled through it, mocking him. “I didn’t even know we had a damn window down here.” His groaned.  “Stupid. Should’ve seen it coming.”

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, breathing deeply. His adrenaline was slowly draining, leaving behind a low, vibrating fury in his bones. At himself. At Yonbok. At everything. Mainly Yonbok, though. It was sure to come back; he’d been going up and down the whole night. As soon as he gets home, he’s crashing hard.

Changbin winced as Minho pulled him up, steadying him with a firm grip under his arm. He swayed, but stayed standing, and Minho didn’t let go until he was sure the other wouldn’t collapse again.

“But you got Jeongin, right?” Changbin asked, voice muffled in his arms.

Minho gave a short, humorless snort. “Of course I did. How little is your trust in me?” He forced a smirk and stood straighter, brushing off his pants. 

Changbin grumbled something unintelligible, then looked down at himself. Minho followed his gaze. Now that he was standing, it was easier to see just how ridiculous his outfit was. “Nice makeover, by the way.” he teased.

Changbin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Shut up. The fucking creep stole my clothes and made me wear his. I’m just glad the twink actually cut it up enough for me to fit into it.”

Minho raised a brow, lips twitching. “How are you so sure he’s gay?” Minho hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck, his ears tinged pink. “Actually, never mind. I found his collection when I went to their house today.”

Changbin’s bark of laughter echoed off the concrete walls, loud and strange and much too high-pitched. Minho huffed out a breath. It was good to hear it, even if it sounded half-mad.

But then his face sobered again. He looked toward the broken window, wind whistling through its jagged teeth. The blood trail was drying fast. If Yonbok had a car nearby, he could already be blocks away.

Minho’s jaw clenched. “You good to stand on your own?” he asked suddenly, voice clipped.

Changbin straightened a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Because if there’s even a chance we can catch him before he gets away, I need to try.”

Changbin nodded. “Go.”

Minho hesitated, eyes scanning Changbin’s posture, his still-bleeding temple, the way he leaned just slightly to the left. How was he supposed to just leave him here? They could both technically go together, but Minho had a feeling it wasn’t going to be peaceful upstairs, and Changbin could have a concussion. The smartest thing to do was to leave him and have someone come get him once everything dies down. So that’s what he did.

“I’ll call for someone to come down here and get you,” Minho said. “Stay by the elevator.”

“Minho.”

Minho looked back.

Changbin was staring at him, jaw set. “You better bring that little bastard back.”

A beat passed between them. Then Minho nodded once, sharp and cold. “Count on it.”

With that, Minho darted out of the Closet, taking long strides before he slammed into the elevator once again, this time heading for the main floor. 

When he stepped out, he heard the chaos even from the halls. But as he pushed through the side doors that opened near the main lobby, he froze. He knew it was going to be bad, but not this.

Hundreds of people poured out into the street in a frantic, shoving tide. Everyone who had been in the restaurant, the main room, the lobby, now pushed through like their lives were in danger. It seemed a little dramatic about a couple of lights being shut off, but it happened regardless. Security guards shouted, overwhelmed and ignored, while the attendees screamed at one another, heels snapping, suit jackets flapping as they tried to escape the building all at once.

Perfect cover, Minho thought grimly. He’s already out there.

He shoved his way toward the edge of the crowd, scanning every face. There were too many people. Yonbok could’ve slipped through five minutes ago, and they’d never know. 

Suddenly, a hand snapped out from the crowd and grabbed his lame arm, yanking hard. He collapsed into the wall they had thrown him into with a scream, nearly doubling over with shaking gasps.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” 

The voice cut through the haze. Minho forced his head up, blinking through the pulsing light behind his eyes. Chan stood in front of him, looking horrified. Seungmin and Hyunjin flanked him, matching looks of shock tightening their features. The four of them were pressed against the wall as people made their escape, trapping them for the time being. It only frustrated him more. How was he supposed to get to Yonbok if they couldn’t even move?

“I dislocated my shoulder,” Minho rasped. He let his head thud back against the wall once, twice. The dull ache in his skull was nothing compared to the wildfire in his arm, but it helped. A little. So much for the relief from earlier.

“ What –?” 

“Kim Felix,” he gritted through his teeth, cutting Chan off. He needed to know if they knew who he was talking about or not, because if he didn’t, he was gonna have to dive back into the crowd alone.

That shut Chan up as recognition lit up his face. He only looked more confused, though. “What about him?”

Minho exhaled a long, pained breath and pressed his back harder into the wall to keep from collapsing. “Alright. I’m about to drop a lot on you, so just– listen.”

He swallowed hard, the words tasting as bitter as they sounded.

“Kim Felix is Yonbok. We’re pretty sure he works for G.D. But here’s the part that really matters– he’s also Jeongin’s brother, ‘Chris’. And he just broke into the vault, and got out.”

Minho looked at them, jaw clenched.

“We need to find him. Now .”

Hyunjin blinked. “I– what?”

“Did you hit your head too?” Seungmin asked, frowning. “That makes zero sense. The elevator’s out; no power, remember? How could he have escaped?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, that's what I thought, too. Turns out there’s a goddamn window down there. Guess we missed it.”

Chan stared between them, incredulous. “Are we seriously ignoring the part when Minho said Yonbok was Jeongin’s brother? You know, the guy we have working security right now?”

“Oh, come on,” Seungmin muttered. “We’ve been suspicious of him all week. It’s just our luck that he happened to be affiliated with Yonbok of all people. Should’ve seen it coming, to be honest. I thought he seemed way too eager to be working security.” he shook his head.

“Well, I dealt with him,” Minho cut in. “He’s not a problem right now.”

“Is that why your shoulder was dislocated?” Hyunjin asked.

“Why else?” Minho sighed. “Jisung’s working on getting the power back up now, but it shouldn’t be too long.”

He turned to look Chan dead in the eye. “I need you to hunt down Yonbok. I would do it myself, but you just yanked my recently dislocated arm, so I'm out.” he patted Chan on his arm.  “It looked like he was pretty heavily injured, so it might be easy, but you need to go now if you want to catch up with him.”

Chan only gave a shaky nod in return before diving into he flood of bodies, his bright blonde hair swallowed up by the crowd in an instant.  Minho exhaled and finally let the rest of his weight sag into the wall behind him. It was out of his hands now. But despite the pain throbbing in his shoulder, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Whether or not they caught Yonbok tonight didn’t matter. They still had the bait. 

All they had to do now was wait for him to bite.

Chapter Text

Hi everyone, author here. this is going to be short, but I just want to say that I have NOT abandoned this fic, and that there will be a new chapter out eventually. A lot of things have been happening, but at the same time haven't, and I've been struggling to actually sit down and write this chapter for quite some time now. But there is a new chapter in the process of being written, and it will be out eventually.

In the meantime, though, I figured I'd invite anyone interested in the fic to this Discord server I am in! it's a small community filled with other authors or just fans of Stray Kids, and the more the merrier, you know? anyone over the age of 16 can join, and if you do end up joining, let me know! I'm Tobi on there.

Thanks again to everyone who has shown me love while I worked on this fic. You don't know how much your comments mean to me. I have read every single one over and over, and it's exciting to see everyone enjoy it so far! <333

(P.S. for my own sanity, if you join, PLEASE keep my username a secret... LMAO)