Taehyung

TaskLog: Standby
Coordinates: No Input

Not once, since the big ceremony, had a glitch occurred.

Not a single time had a person who'd been touched by death remembered it.

Granted, I'd never tried the matrix ability before. Never meddled in human lives. But still.

Well, maybe once in a long time. But that's not the topic here.

An error had taken place.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. It certainly was the alcohol. If I were sober, I wouldn't have cared about a person who had the audacity to orchestrate death without permission.

Perhaps that's what you get from overstepping your boundaries. I should've refrained from rebelling in a holy space last night. I should've known that my rebellion would change absolutely nothing.

Whatever it was, I'd been merciful for no reason but the sake of giving a chance. Now... well. Suffice it to say, I understood why He doesn't give second chances to gone humans.

I took off my shades, slowly turning around. Softly stretching my lips into something resembling a friendly smile, I walked toward the panting matrix glitch. She looked in better shape today. Red—always called the color of the devil—strangely gave her an almost angelic allure. Much like her voice.

Seemed I'd finally put a face to it—the angelic voice—courtesy of Drake's running mouth.

I hadn't watched her on stage. Listening had been enough. Now, it appeared I was forced to watch, too.

I didn't want to. Even less did I want the lyrics to carry weight. Meaning was dangerous.

"We met," she repeated, voice confident. With attitude. "At the back alley. Last night when I—anyway. Was it you who called 911?" She narrowed her eyes at me.

I stopped a few steps short of bumping into her. A soul was a radioactive element. I didn't like standing that close unless I planned on taking it away.

"Take a closer look," I said flatly. "Deep into my eyes."

Forever curious—about death, about things better left untouched—she did. She was small for all that courage. Too small to be causing disturbances in the holy matrix.

Her head snapped up in challenge. Her eyes, a deep winter forest, narrowed at me. I chuckled.

My hand slipped into my pocket, materializing my lighter. I leaned down to her height, gaze locked onto hers as the flame bloomed between us.

"Have we really met?" My voice echoed—though no one could hear said echo.

I capped the lighter, killing the flame, and blinked. My grey iris surfaced.

"Do you still see it?" I asked quietly. "Our meeting?"

I watched her pupils dilate. A work of art. The Creator must've been inspired the day He chose that shade of green.

I lit the flame again, bringing it closer. Her features softened one by one. Her breathing evened out.

"I'm sorry," she said, snapping back. She shook her head as if trying to clear it.

Too bad. That wouldn't happen just yet.

"I must've confused you with someone," she added, glancing around. Lost. Human. Fragile.

"Did I just ask you something?" she frowned, hovering between confusion and clarity.

"No," I said, extinguishing the flame. "I don't think so."

I stepped back. "Are you alright? Do you need help?"

"Oh—no," she chuckled nervously. "Too many drinks, I guess."

I shoved my hands into my pockets. "Aren't we all here for a good time?"

She smiled, nodding. "Can't argue with that. See you around, yeah?"

Preferably not.

"Sure," I mirrored, polite. "Nice performance, by the way, miss...?"

"Mara." She offered her hand. "Name's Mara."

Don't I know.

To avoid suspicion—or looking like an asshole—I shook it.

"Taehyun—"

A zing jolted through my body.

The lighter in my pocket erupted.
Not with flame, but with a silent, silver heat that seared through the wool of my slacks and into my thigh.

My grip tightened around her hand before I could stop it. Her eyes widened. Judging by her expression, my face wasn't doing me any favors either.

"Sorry," I forced out, pulling away, neutralizing my expression. "Taehyung," I finished.

And then I saw it.

The silver scar on her wrist.

Glowing under the dark lights.

Shit.
Shit.
Shit.

I grabbed her scarred wrist, covering it with my palm. "Let me get you a cab," I offered.

"I'm good, thanks," she protested. I didn't remove my hand from her wrist. She didn't seem to resist it either.

"So, another drink?" I suggested. My fingers were at work. Three taps.

One.

The shadow appeared behind her.

Two.

The raven sang in my ears.

Three.

The glow flashed in a silver only I could see, and then dimmed, taking the trace of my mistake with it.

She staggered back violently. Before anyone could notice, I wrapped my hand around her waist, steadying her. Her scent was a heady mixture of liquor, soap, sweat, and... soul.

It was, for lack of better words, disturbing yet... warm. Definitely, she felt warm against my palm.

"I guess no more for you tonight," I taunted.

"I think so too," she stuttered, pressing at her temple. "I'll take the stage tomorrow. Come, we can have that drink," she added, grabbing her purse.

"Sure thing," I promised.

After all, this side effect had to be studied. Only, from very far away.

~~~

I wouldn't say I stayed true to my promise, seeing as I was literally standing right next to her as she opened the door of this—what should I call this semblance of a house? A demolition waiting to happen?

She didn't see or feel me simply because I wasn't the man she saw at the pub or the man who saved her.

I was in my real state. In my real shape.

Air.

I wouldn't say I cared a bit about her confused state or the side effects of the little memory erasure I pulled earlier. Those were manageable and would soon vanish when she emptied her stomach—which she'd do first thing when she made it into her apartment.

I was here to understand how she managed to remember me. Most of all, I had to figure out how she ended up carrying a part of me.

The silver.

I would've thrown a detailed inquiry if I had someone to report to or a catastrophe staff. Too bad I worked solo on a global level. Which was why (reason numero 1) I'd turned into my original state. I had to stay close enough for her to breathe me in in order to see if the scar I'd wiped off would glow again.

The raven confirmed it wouldn't. I preferred to cut doubt with certainty.

While following her to her house, I realized a few things about Mara Blackthorn.

She cussed a lot.

She talked to herself a lot.

And she did a hell of a lot of walking for someone wearing such high heels.

The wind blew at my signal. The raven jumped from the electric wire it was standing on and flew so close to her head that she staggered, frightened. Her keys clattered to the ground.

Bingo.

She took in a hefty drag of air.

The scar didn't glow.

I was about to blow away with the wind when a heavy movement played with my particles.

The raven took a U-turn, flying above us.

She was on the ground, heaving and panting.

And she wasn't retching.

She had death inside her system. And she was taking in more.

That couldn't be possible or explainable. There was no Task under her name. She shouldn't feel my presence in her lungs.

I watched, blowing particles of clean O₂ in her direction, hoping she wouldn't actually die from death poison—if that's the lab term we could give to my essence.

The raven howled. An unseen sight to it too.

And Mara?

She convulsed, hard. For a second, I thought about appearing in front of her as the human shape she had already met, but I couldn't risk it, seeing as she'd remembered me once before.

So I stopped the wind altogether. The particles in the air stood on standby. If she were reacting to breathing me in, I had to stop my element—and by extension, time—to figure out what exactly had gone wrong with this soul.

As everything stopped, I emerged into my human shape. Crouching in front of her, I examined her stiff body.

Lying her on her back, I let my grey iris examine any leftover of mine she was still carrying. There was nothing left. No silver. Which, at the risk of repeating myself, begged the question: what the fuck was going on with this woman?

"You messed up big time, buddy," the only voice that could stand the test of frozen time mocked.

My only companion.

My baptizer.

The raven.

"Yoongi," I began, voice calm and flat. "If you don't provide a diagnosis right about now, don't bother wasting your human shape and that criminally out-fashioned suit. Save it for a date."

Yoongi didn't dignify my snarl with anything but an arrogant chuckle. I gave him a cold glare and went back to examining the matrix glitch.

"She faced death before," Yoongi offered. "Which means she'd faced you before."

"No, Sherlock," I deadpanned. "How did you know that? Oh yeah, let me guess. Because I literally brought her back from death last night?"

Silence. Then Yoongi crouched next to me and my matrix glitch. Boredly, he grabbed her wrist, then dropped it again after examining it.

"It wasn't the only time," he added. "It wasn't the first time either."

My head snapped toward him. I could feel my brows furrowing as I mentally went through TaskLogs from the last thirty years. Yes, I was broadening my scope. Mara was only twenty-seven.

"There was no Task under her name," I argued. "I would've known."

"Which is why you need to stay close to her," he concluded, voice devoid of any tonal movements. "Collect data. I'll dirty my hands going through files." He stood up, fetching something from his pockets. "Now, do me a favor and let time flow. I want to smoke a blunt before my next flight. It's been an age since I wore this skin. Might as well enjoy it."

I stood up, my eyes on Yoongi. "Make it so that I have results fast, Raven," I ordered. "And before you finish that blunt, make sure I have a new identity, job, life. All under Kim Taehyung."

"Wait," he frowned. "Are you using your real name in this lifetime?"

Assuming it was a rhetorical question, I let out a breath, bringing time back to life.

Mara barked a slew of horrendous coughs, and then she started vomiting exactly as I expected.

Raven flew before she could come back to it. I, on the other hand, was planning to stay very close.

"Mara," I shouted her name, crouching in front of her as the worried pub creep she might think I was when she'd find me in front of her. "Are you okay? Should I take you to urgent care?"

"Taehyung," she whispered, confused and looking like a corpse. See, that's funny because she'd just inhaled death. "How did you get here?"

Confused—or acting as such—I asked, "What do you mean? You asked me to take you home." I moved closer, my hand patting her shoulder as she panted. "You're scaring me, Mara. Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No," she shouted. "No hospitals." Latching her hands to her head, she warily looked at her vomit and at the ground she was half lying on. "I'm fine. It's just exhaustion and too much alcohol."

She tried to stand up, and of course I helped her when she failed. One palm on her waist, the other pulling her closer to me as I walked her to her door, I chuckled when my lighter didn't sear again.

There weren't any glitches I couldn't fix. Just glitches I had to analyze.

Well, besides that ceremonial glitch.

That was my beginning that would know no end.

"Do you have anyone who would take care of you tonight?" I asked, watching her hands tremble as she tried to unlock her door. "To be honest with you, I'm a bit worried. You look pale."

The lock finally opened. She looked at me with a smile that I was sure took immense effort. "Don't worry. I'll manage." She pointed at the open door. "Good night, I guess?"

I nodded. "Good night."

Turning around, I started slowly walking away when she called.

"Taehyung."

I turned around instantly. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," she offered.

I mirrored her smile, and for a second too long, we just stared at each other before I resumed walking on my way.

Well, no thanks to you, matrix glitch, I have homework and a human life to cosplay.