Hongjoong closes the lid to the container of cookies he was munching on, remembering vaguely about Seonghwa firmly telling him that it's mainly for Yeosang because the guy would get cranky if he doesn't get his daily fix of cookies. Seonghwa had went on about how hard it was for them to grab the box, but he only waved it away, saying that he's only exaggerating and a shopping session couldn't be so intense.

He shakes the contents that have been reduced to half because the oldest had shut him up with one piece of cookie, that he soon found himself devouring it like he was an insatiable monster. If Yeosang tries to find who the culprit is he can probably point back to Seonghwa or just go buy another box.

How hard can it be, trying to buy a box of cookies?

Seonghwa and San drifted off to dreamland, sleeping like a log as soon as the cooking show was finished. He had to switch off the television for them, grumbling about how it will show up on the bill while they remained nonchalant with dripping saliva and open mouths. San has his head on Seonghwa's lap, the latter's hand on San's head, mid-caressing his locks. San's spittle drips from the corner of his mouth, producing damp spots on Seonghwa's favourite pair of black ripped jeans. He would probably be disgusted once he woke up, but San always gets away with stuff like this.

Seonghwa takes care of all of them - including him although he hates to admit it - like they are his children but San and Yeosang are probably his favourite. And Wooyoung on good days if he doesn't bother Seonghwa too much. They could burn down the whole house and Seonghwa would film it, post it and put the caption 'look at how cute my babies are'. However strike the wrong note with him and you'll probably end up dead the next day. They all silently agree that although Hongjoong is the captain, Seonghwa is the most lethal. Once he puts you on his blacklist you can kiss your life goodbye.

Besides to the 8 men and Hwayoung, Seonghwa's looks are the most deceiving; one could not even begin to guess whatever dark past he had hidden away. When all 7 others found out about it, their jaws drop open and they immediately put their hands behind their backs, as if he could shoot them down with a single stare.

Hongjoong instinctively turns towards their main door when the steady beeping of the passcode being punched in is heard echoing through the second floor and Yunho appears with a mop of wet hair.

As the door shuts behind him, he takes off his shoes at the foyer and puts on his house slippers before asking, "Is Hwayoung already asleep?"

"She showered and I tucked her into bed, but she's waiting for you to sing her a lullaby before she sleeps. I wanted to do it but she kicked me out saying I will give her nightmares if I sing."

Yunho snorts. "Looks like my baby knows who's the best."

"Oh shut up before I throw this-" he bends down to take off one of his slippers and aims it at him, but the younger has already escaped into his daughter's bedroom.

A ping indicating that a notification is received tears his attention away from Yunho, and he approaches the source of the sound while putting back on his slippers. It's from the small handheld device Yeosang assembled for them, connected to Mingi's computer at their headquarters. The notification light pulses constantly, so he presses down his thumb onto the screen and it unlocks to reveal the new message that came in. The device is the only thing connecting them to the headquarters, since they can't spend all of their time there. It's the most featureless connection they can have so as not to raise any suspicions if any people decided to come visit their house. Not that they have any visitors here, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The message is simple - as they always are when they receive requests - but the price behind it is huge and the responsibility under it is heavy. It's entirely up to them to decide whether they will accept the request or not, and the sender will not be able to say otherwise. They know the details of the sender, but the sender doesn't know their identities; all the sender has is their email address and their back account that can't be traced back to them. The 'services' they offer are usually spread around hushedly, mostly through word-of-mouth. People won't admit it, but there are all kinds of requests sent to them that they sometimes question their own conscience, if they even have any left. They are in complete control, and that's why he loves his job.

He looks at the details of the request first, then the target, and then it usually comes down to the price. He whistles when he sees the price, feeling that it's such a huge amount for a simple task. Assassinating a single person is an easy job for them; he will probably just send Seonghwa or Wooyoung to them and just from afar, they will be shot dead. This is the first request they had gotten after some period of drought, so he feels giddy knowing that they are finally back on track. He feels the need to tell the others, but since Yunho is busy with his daughter and the Seonghwa-San pair has turned into logs he decides to go downstairs and announce it to them.

Surely they'll feel happy like him, since some of them have claimed that they are bored without having anything to do. This job won't involve all of them, but he's pretty sure they will at least be excited to know that people still need them. He wonders what takes them so long to go back upstairs when it's already past closing hours, but they are still probably lounging around at the cafe, since that is the life they know: cafe - home - headquarters. They barely even spend time apart from each other.

He doesn't wait to see them to actually start announcing it. "Song Mingi! We finally got a new request, they're willing to pay us a 100 grand to assassinate a gang leader's son. Urgent job, needed to be done by tomorrow."

The twitch at the corner of his lips dies as he catches sight of a single person bent over a cup of coffee, before he cranks his gaze to the four behind the counter, horror washed over their faces, as if frozen in time. He screams internally when he realizes that the person with the coffee is not one of them, even though it is already past their closing time. He even checks the wall clock to make sure that he's not only imagining the time. He scolds himself for being too eager to tell them that he ignores all their precautions, yet he finds himself chiding his sheepish colleagues through his eyes. He feels his heart slowing to a stop as his stare collides with the customer's.

Firstly, he thinks that her hazel eyes that reflect the light from the hanging lamps are pretty, which reminds him of the endless galaxy.

Secondly, he thinks that she must have felt cold going around while being drenched in those clothes.

Thirdly and finally after a few dumb seconds of staring at her, he thinks, oh shit. What the flying fuck have I done?

He moves a muscle, taking one step back up at the same time the girl flinches, both holding through their stares as if daring one another to make a move. The other four are like statues, both held in place by fear and stupid realization that their covers are blown just by a simple announcement made at the wrong time. Even more, it's by their own team captain, who is now looking like a strawberry that is shrinking as the words get stuck in his throat.

The said strawberry huffs loudly before backpedalling, "Did you hear what I just said? We got an invitation to have lunch with a gang leader's son at the 100 grand hotel. Right." His eyes dart to his right, seeking support from the rest, but they are holding each others' hands, as if they are about to form a prayer circle, or ready to throw Hongjoong as the sacrifice.

Yeosang shakes his head. "That is not convincing at all."

"You're right, there's no such thing as a hotel named 100 grand," Wooyoung says quietly from the corner of his mouth.

"That was so natural," Mingi says sarcastically, but makes sure to say it under his breath.

In all her life, Byul has always found a way to keep on living, no matter how hard it's weighing down on her. Somehow she has managed to go through all the problems she has faced before. When things get too hard, there is one thing that she always does best - she runs away from her problems.

At this moment, she just encountered a problem too big she can't believe her ears, so she makes her best decision; she runs.

She knocks the chair backwards, earning a loud thud as it lands on the floor, grabbing her bag and leaving her barely-touched latte on the table. Her movement sets them in motion too, as they break through the ice that's keeping them in place.

She hears the man with faded red hair bark an instruction to one of them as she exits the cafe, "Jongho, bring her back!"

They're going to kill me and sell my organs to the black market.

"Yes sir!" is what reaches her ears as she pushes the door, her feet already aching even before she has traversed her route of escape.

The alley feels narrower and longer, as if it's going to close in on her and crush her body, leaving behind a puddled mess of meat and broken bones. Her vision is marred from the tears that have started flowing again, dripping onto her pink shirt, now for a completely different reason. Her black high heels have long left her feet, knowing that it won't help her in running; so she's stomping down on damp asphalt barefooted.

There are plenty of times she wished she were dead instead, but this is not how she imagined she would have to go. Not by being hunted down by a gang who runs a coffee shop in a building that is bound to collapse anytime soon.

Invisible fingers clench around her throat, preventing her sobs from escaping past her lips, and they clamp around her heart, pumping out blood that delivers adrenaline through her body. With no real direction, her shaking hands search for a weapon inside her backpack. Her fingers brush against her pouch of essentials, the file that holds all her documents, a packet of half-eaten bread she had wanted to save for dinner and a single pen that is almost out of ink, but she can't find what she's trying to. In the desperation she takes out the pen, wrapping her fingers around the grooved material and gripping it like one would do with a proper weapon. She doesn't know how long she has been running for, or where she is heading to.

The only thought she has now is that, I want to survive. I need to survive.

She doesn't take the liberty to stop but she risks a glance over her shoulders, not wanting to flatter herself too much for being able to outrun her chaser. Unable to stop herself on time under the low light and due to the extreme fear, she crashes against a metal dumpster. She rolls to her side and clutches her injured arm while her tears pour down relentlessly.

She loses her grip on her backpack, sending it flying a few feet from her and strewing the contents on the asphalt road. She holds on firmly to the pen, despite the arm that's holding it is currently sending sharp pains to her system. Red blooms in her vision and spreads across the sleeve of her shirt; she has rolled over broken glass and some of them have planted themselves into her skin. The stitches at her skirt come undone higher, and she notices that she has acquired cuts all over her legs, which stings as she tries to move. She bites her lips, both in hopes of staying quiet and taking away the pain. She leans against the dumpster, looking from left to right for any signs of her chaser.

She's too worn out to move, and too injured to keep running. She sits beside the dumpster and leans her head against the naked bricks, closing her eyes as she remembers back to all the real, creepy criminal stories she has read about. Crimes that make you nauseous even when you're reading about it. If this is how I go, my life has definitely no meaning. I've always been stupid, but who would have thought my stupidity would be the reason for my depart?

There is a clang as something heavy falls on the metal dumpster, but she is too out of her mind to give a proper reaction. She only sobs harder, placing a hand on her wound. She sees something shift in front of her eyes and she wipes away her tears. Her pair of high heels are held out in front of her, and the holder is crouching on the dumpster, his expression indiscernible. He is the worker that has made her coffee, and the one they call Jongho.

"You left your shoes, Cinderella. I think that's enough of running for today."

---

[A/N: YOOOOO so okay I didn't intend to update today but I was so stressed out from the non-stop 5-hour lecture I had just now so I kind of needed some place to wind down so here I am, trying to forget reality

AND

ATEEZ just released their teaser picture AND. IT'S. SO. ETHEREAL.

They're all looking like some kind of mysterious-fantastical princes and I. LOVE. IT.

Don't even get me started on their hair TT

(also seonghwa I see you, I get it, you don't have to prove anything,,,, you're always my bias)

I didn't expect them to drop it today, out of all the days.

I'm just so curious on how the concept of the album is going to be like...

I love all of you uwu <3]