His face feels hot from his exhalation onto the mask over his nose and mouth, his leather-gloved hands flipping lazily through the papers stacked on the mahogany desk. His hair is hidden carefully under a black hood, the only part he's exposing is the pair of his sharp eyes. He has been in the room for two hours exploring like he owns the place, the room he's in witnessing him as the only occupant. He traces his covered fingers over the letters on the nameplate on the desk as his eyes catch the small cameras littered all over the place.

There is one obvious camera at one corner of the room, pointing towards the door heading into the room. At first glance, it might seem that there is only one surveillance camera, but he has combed through the room to know that there are two more hidden among the books on the shelf and another placed on the vase of flowers on the coffee table.

The owner is definitely paranoid; but then again, just by knowing how he treats other people, the paranoia is well-grounded.

He scoffs at how some people treat others as literal garbage but pretends to be surprised when they are treated the same way in return. These kind of people aren't susceptible to words; their ears are blocked from hearing anyone they deem lower than them. These kind of people need to be shown, so that they will finally listen. It's too bad that the cameras won't be able to capture what he's about to do; to the cameras the room has been empty since.

He's patient; there's no use in rushing because he has plenty of time. He jumps into the office chair, swinging around as he stretches his legs, waiting for the owner to come back so he'll be able to greet him. Time goes by; he resists the urge to whistle, not wanting to attract any attention towards himself. He'll get all the attention when he's done with the owner.

He stops the chair from swinging by putting down his feet on the floor, facing the shelf behind so that when the particular someone comes in, the first sight they have is the back of the office chair. He laces his fingers together, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he hears the beeping of the passcode being punched in. He steadies himself, ready to face the person who's about to come in. He hears muted footsteps on the carpeted floor and with the confirmation through his earpiece on the identity of the newcomer, he spins around.

"Welcome back," he coos.

"What the hell-" the newcomer starts, his hands already reaching out to call for security through the phone on his desk, but the intruder is faster in pushing the phone off the desk. The handset dangles on the cord, now too far for the owner to reach for it.

He jumps over the desk, launching himself onto the owner and bringing him down with him. They get involved in a scuffle but the intruder gets the upper hand as he pins down the owner with his arms. The latter gets weaker at the sight of a glinting blade taken out from a band around the intruder's legs, unable to form any words or calculate any reaction that could stop him.

He places the blade against the man's neck, spitting, "Where was all that bravado when you came thumping on her door? Cat got your tongue? Your muscles being uncooperative?"

"Who the fuck are you?" is his only response from his mouth, meanwhile his body's only response is violent shaking. Fear is enveloping the owner, further bringing a failure to his system. He lies under the intruder, his brain malfunctioning as he can't think of anything other than that it's definitely his last day alive.

"Who am I doesn't matter, Yoon Daewon. Proud of selling that name around, huh? You're the, what, son of the largest car manufacturer in the whole damn country? Might want to consider having a bodyguard around you 24/7 since your personality stinks. Too bad you can't take a hint." He presses the blade deeper onto the skin on his neck. "Come on, put up a fight. You seem to be very-" he slaps a hand to his own muscles, "-when you were shouting all of that."

"What do you want from me? If you want money then tell me so-"

He laughs, scrunching his nose and narrowing his eyes. "I don't need money, asshole. I have more than you can imagine. I want you to learn back your comprehension and listening skills, alright? When someone says no, it means no. It doesn't mean 'I want you to convince me without stopping until I give in.' Lesson one."

"Did Han Byul send you? How much did that bitch pay you?"

He rears back his hand to land a slap on Daewon's cheek. He grabs his collar with his left hand, the right still aiming the knife at him. "You call her that again and I'll make sure you won't rest in peace. You disturb her, you pay for it. I want you to remember every person you have wronged, every dirty deed you did, let that be the last memory of your life. If I followed what I really wanted to do, I'll let you suffer slowly until your death, but this world doesn't really lose anything if you're gone quickly."

With one swift motion and his gloved hand firmly gripping the knife's handle, he slashes the blade across Daewon's neck and then slams down the knife into his chest. He pulls it out, letting the blood spurt out, dirtying the target's clothes and dark grey carpet. Daewon lies half-dead underneath him and he gets off, throwing the knife onto the floor beside his torso. With a weak hand, Daewon tries to grab his leg but he shrugs it off.

He opens the blinds of the large transparent window overlooking his assistant's desk, just enough for people outside to take a peek. It looks like his assistant is still oblivious to the scene inside. He crouches beside Daewon, takes out a marker before smudging the ink in a purposeful symbol on his forehead; a sign to the enforcement officers so that they'll know who exactly did this.

He goes the opposite way. He leans against the window facing the city landscape, unlatches it before he jumps outside, grabbing the rope that has been dangling by ever since his plot started. Before he descends he meets the eyes of his victim, but he stares back coldly, not an ounce of regret washing over him.

The only thing reeling in his mind is all the background information he has on Yoon Daewon, his criminal record which seems clean at first sight but actually cover different levels; ones that can be wiped clean if you have the money. A criminal record of someone who does dirty stuff over, over and over again because they know they won't get caught.

He gets angrier as he is reminded of Daewon's previous victims, all the women the scumbag thought he deserved because of his position. He's furious when thinking of all the women he had taken advantage of, but never gotten the justice they deserved. His heart aches as he thinks about what Byul must have felt whenever he comes banging on her door, demanding her to reveal herself. How long has she been suffering under his shadow?

He never thinks himself as a good guy or a bad guy - the lines are always blurred anyway. They are the middlemen; 99% of the time there wouldn't even be a link between them and their targets. The reason they are able to carry out all their jobs successfully is that nothing traces back to them, and no evidence to point back to their requesters. It's a win-win situation for them and their requesters; once the money's in, the job's considered done.

It isn't always based on requests though; sometimes they have their own needs. For 'missions' like these, it's not about the money, but giving away what their targets had coming. Giving punishments to their targets when the law doesn't, carrying out tasks that uniformed officers should have done but couldn't because they have their own procedures.

When following the rules by the book doesn't work for tough weeds like them, enforcement officers turn to them quietly, feigning ignorance when a dead body who turns out to be from their 'wanted' list appears on their doorstep. The cases will be investigated but end up being closed without much of a conclusion, because of course they won't reveal to the public that they secretly have 'couriers' who do jobs eliminating hardened criminals in the dark.

The reason teams like theirs exist is because sometimes, rules are meant to be broken.

He snaps off the rope from the hook, rolling it up in mere seconds before he sets off, tapping on the earpiece to signal to the other person on the line.

"Looks like he's dead. Wouldn't be long before someone finds his body," the other person announces.

"Right. Thanks for becoming my guide for today, Sunfish. This evening the news will be all over, I suppose? Remember to broadcast and spread everything that we found on him; wouldn't want him to go away without a taint. I don't want to hear the bullshit of him being an 'exemplary employer' or anything along those lines. I want the world to know who this Yoon Daewon really is since he's so proud of that name."

"Are you really doing all of this for her sake?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Since when do we think too much about our missions? If I'm doing it for her, I don't think she'll be grateful for it; I just murdered a person for crying out loud. So let's just say I'm doing it for myself because I can't stand this asshole who doesn't respect women and old people, alright?"

"Shiber."

"What?" He takes off his mask and gloves, dumps them into the car's dashboard compartment. He ignites the engine, the voice of the other person on the line mixing together with the sound of acceleration.

"Are you proud of what you did?"

"Hell no. You think this is something to be proud of? We're too deep into this to have an existential crisis." He presses on the accelerator harder, leaving behind Utopia district.

"Do you think we'll ever get to leave this life behind one day?"

"I won't count on that, buddy. One of these days we might get caught and killed ourselves. Until then, let's just pretend everything is going to be fine, because that's how we've been living."

---

"Are you satisfied with the tattoo that you've gotten?" Seonghwa greets her as they came back to the parlor after Akira called him, asking them to come pick her up. "My girl is a great artist, isn't she?" he looks proud mentioning it that Byul doesn't have the heart to say that Akira didn't even touch her skin.

Byul nods, trying not to appear that she's lying and Akira loops her arm around Byul's. "Thank you, Akira."

"First name basis already? It's nice seeing both of you getting along so well." Yeosang utters as his hand grabs a candy from the bowl on the counter. His teeth crushes the filled candy and he hums in satisfaction as the chocolate inside floods his tongue.

"We have a lot in common," Akira decides, smiling at her customer.

"Really, like what?" Seonghwa slaps Yeosang's hand when the latter is too busy grabbing more candy with his fisted hand, thinking that he's slick in trying to smuggle them in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Like, none of your business. It's only for us women."

Seonghwa looks dissatisfied at first but decides a fraction of a second later that he's glad that Akira and Byul seem to get along well. He nods and reaches for his wallet, "How much for the tattoo?"

"That would be-" Emira starts, but Akira quickly cuts her sister off.

"-free. Just treat it as a 'nice to meet you' gesture. It really is nice to meet you."

They leave the parlor with Yeosang still trying to steal some candy, while Seonghwa wants to get another hug that Akira firmly refuses. As the two men step outside, the door closing behind them and they are out of earshot, Byul quickly turns to the pair of sisters.

"Thank you, for believing in what I told you and not telling them anything."

"I hope I won't regret putting my trust in you; as long as you don't break that trust, I won't say anything to them. Please don't hurt them and," her voice turns urgent, "make sure Seonghwa doesn't see that tattoo; he knows what it is."

"I won't... and thank you. I really mean it."

The tattooist smiles softly and embraces her, an action given to comfort her. "I know that life is hard, Han Byul. Although there are still a lot of things that I need to learn about you, I hope you'll find the light someday. I hope that you're able to achieve what you're looking for."

"What's taking you- hey why does she get a hug and I don't?" Seonghwa pushes open the door to look for Byul when it's taking her so long, only to be greeted by Akira and Byul tangled in a hug.

Akira lets Byul go, rolling her eyes. "Because you're annoying and she's not. Shut up, coconut head."

"I was a duck and now I'm a coconut? What else now?"

"Before I start calling you a lemon, you may take your leave." She pats a hand on Byul's shoulder and says, "I'd like it if you can come around and we can hang out. Don't bring the lemon with you, though."

Byul chuckles at this as she's amused by their relationship, but she still can't guess where their relationship stands.

"Instead of lemon, why don't you call me honey?" Seonghwa cheekily says.

Akira doesn't answer, but her hands reach for a magazine from the table and aims it at Seonghwa, causing him to yelp and disappear outside.

"That damn lemon is always making my head spin. See you around, Byul." She accompanies her to the door, waving at the three of them. She slams the door when Seonghwa looks like he's about to say something.

"You really need to stop doing that or we'll have to replace the door someday," Emira scolds her while she stocks up the candy Yeosang had taken more than he was supposed to.

"I didn't want to hear him say it."

Emira puts down the candy container and sighs. She looks at her sister with pitiful eyes; Akira is wringing her hands, looking visibly distressed.

"How much longer are you planning on treating him like that? That coconut head is head over heels for you, and I know you're feeling the same. But why do you keep pushing him away?"

"Because I don't want him to feel that way. You do know that they're not supposed to be in a relationship. I'm only hurting him if I make him think that I like him-"

"But you do."

"That's not the point," she says, exasperated. "Why can't you understand? Why can't they understand? They're not supposed to be in a relationship and it's dangerous for him if he gets found out, but he's acting like he's leading a normal life when he's not. He's not even supposed to come here."

"You met each other before he was even a trainee, before he was taken away. You're telling me that after both of you went through so much, after that bloody day-"

"Please don't bring that up," she grips Emira's arm, her eyes pleading. "That was years ago."

Her sister exhales slowly, relenting. "Right, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to remember that you and him had been through a lot together, that some rules by those stupid higher-ups should not break you."

"They are rules that can get them killed if they don't obey. I don't want him to get punished just because he has feelings for me, I'm doing this for his sake because that idiot doesn't know when to stop."

"The system's a mess and you know that; they're trying to make them robots instead of normal humans with feelings. They're trying to manufacture robots that follow every orders without questioning anything. But ATEEZ is different; look how they are right now, you said it so yourself."

"It's better if they don't have feelings; it would be easier for me to push him away."

"You don't mean it."

"I mean every word I said. I don't want to hear him say that he loves me, because it's going to take a whole lot of will for me to not say it back."

---

[A/N: Some of you came up with theories for the plot and I'm honestly very impressed; the power you guys hold!

By the end of this story if you managed to guess the plot correctly I'll give you...........................................

my love.

I'm sorry if I missed any one of your theories TT

I really, really appreciate it when you guys come up with theories because it makes me more motivated to write and I love interacting with all of you!!!

(also some of your theories might or might not change the course of the story >.>)

I love you all and please take care of yourself!! <3]