[!TRIGGER WARNING! DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH.]

God, what am I doing?

The discomfort Song-hee is feeling shows through her face as clear as the sky above Seoul today.

It seems as if the sun - who decided to suddenly come back after its pestilent absence - perched brightly on its throne of cumulus clouds mock her for feeling under-the-weather on such a lovely day.

Hasn't she been longing for Seoul to look this way again?

Arriving now at Konkuk University Station, Gwangjin-gu.

Song-hee gathers her wits and her cream handbag, swallowing her nerves that are spiking at the mention of her destination.

Her hands ball up on her lap, seeking warmth from her palms that her fingertips lacked. Sadly, the pads of her hands are just as cold as the rest of her.

Weirdly enough, the subway boarded many more people than it usually does on a Sunday morning. Song-hee takes note of the funereal expressions etched onto the faces of the men and women aboard the same car and she thinks she must look like that too.

After all, aren't the majority of them traveling to Gwangjin-gu for the same reason? Aren't they essentially visiting a crime scene?

Song-hee closes her eyes at the morbid thought and she fights the urge to rub her face.

Maybe the reason why she's been feeling like death lately is because death is all she thinks about. How can she not though, especially when the city's beginning to fester from it?

The subway car creaks and shudders before coming to a complete halt. It's like Song-hee's heart stops with the train too, but she bravens herself with a pep-talk before getting up from where she is seated.

She tries not to acknowledge how softly she trembled even though she can see her bag quivering in her grasp.

Although antsy being here alone, she's thankful that Jin has plans with Jimin and Namjoon today. Keeping him in the dark of her intentions in Gwangjin-gu, as furtive as it is, makes her feel considerably less guilty.

After the recent murder, she knew in herself that she can't sit idly by anymore. The itch that she tried so hard for weeks now to ignore started to burn, demanding for immediate relief.

She was disoriented last night lying in bed as her brain and her heart waged war against each other.

Ultimately, her heart had sent the final blow as it reminded her of the souls taken so brutally away.

The inconsolable wailing of their parents, the distraught, almost lifeless looks of their friends, the uproar of their community - they're all scorched behind Song-hee's eyelids and it almost hurts to close her eyes.

It's something she has to keep from the people in her life, but she knows what she has to do.

Her investigation of the Lotus starts today. It starts now.

When the subway doors slide open with a mechanic click, Song-hee makes a beeline for the exit and manages to step on the platform with no problem.

How deceiving the tranquil scene in front of her is. It almost makes her sick how peaceful the district seems, as if something so despicably evil didn't just happen in its territory.

How dare the sun look so optimistic beaming down on depressed faces? Why did it choose to shine now? Did it not know what happened? Did it not care?

Her nails dig through her palms hard enough to leave angry crescent shapes in their wake and she doesn't realize until a sharp sting lets her know.

A strange, somewhat intemperate power washes over her and it's potent enough to have her jaws chatter. Song-hee hasn't experienced this feeling, at least not since she moved away from Daegu.

Clamping her teeth down, she picks her pace back up with renewed purpose. The anxiety of having to watch the Gwangjin Police address the public vanishes, like she didn't spend the whole journey here dreading it.

The closer Song-hee got to Jayang-ro, the more she realizes why the rest of Gwangjin looked so devoid of life.

She's blocks away from the intersection separating her from the district's police station, but already there is a drastic increase in activity.

It is so loud in the area - the volume of the noise sheer and unexpected, like walking suddenly into a brick wall.

Song-hee's eyebrows lower in cogitation, her nose wrinkling. The tips of fingers grow clammy and cold just like it did back at the train car and her heart starts to race slightly.

People are shouting and they sound very agitated - they are angry because they're terrified and it's evident from what the collective voices are yelling out.

She can hear policemen through megaphones coaxing the crowd, though judging from their clipped tones, it seems they've been trying to get a handle on the situation for some time already.

She wills herself to breathe, her fists clenching and unclenching to calm her spiking nerves. This method works up until she crosses the intersection.

She gasps sharply, her feet stuttering at the sight in front of her.

Pandemonium.

The vicinity of the Gwangjin Police Station and its blood orange building is swarmed by a sea - an ocean- of tumultuous bodies and the noise, as if it weren't already deafening, is ear-splitting to say the least.

There are a number of white vans from different news stations littered out front with reporters Song-hee has seen on TV, on stand-by.

Her skin crawls with a sudden violent shudder and the chills racking her spine steal the last bit of warmth from her body. The hairs on her arms stand with the goosebumps dotting her skin.

She's can't believe what she's witnessing; the chaos and uproar in the area — she blanches, swallowing thickly as she resists the urge to turn back and run as far away from this place as possible.

Trembling, she brings her watch up to her eyes to read the time.

10:52 AM. 8 more minutes.

With laborious breaths, Song-hee tries to wedge her way through the crowd in order to get a closer view of the platform set up for the address.

The dark blue stage complete with the SMPA's golden crest on velvet banners are still like specs in her vision from how far she is.

Her small frame is no match against the wall of pushing bodies.

Flinching, she squeezes herself in-between two women with great difficulty before she stops fighting for her way.

She didn't realize how quickly the minutes moved.

There is a significant shift in the crowd's volume; their clamor silences into murmurs but the apprehension laced in their collective hushed tones remain loud and clear.

Along with the people gathered, Song-hee's attention is taken by the men in blue uniforms walking up the platform. Their sharp and synchronized procession echoes through the hollow stage and resonates with imposition.

The lifeless projector screens fill with light and color as they reflect the event now ongoing.

The policemen were lined up behind their chief, a man well in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, taking center stage on the dark mahogany podium.

Although Song-hee can only see him through pixels, he looks incredibly intimidating with the solemn expression on his face.

"Good morning - to the citizens of Gwangjin, to the people of Seoul. I, Do Man-seok, chief of the Gwangjin Police, extend my gratitude on behalf of the Metropolitan Police Agency to everyone in attendance." He starts, looking straight at the camera.

His voice is gruff and deep as he begins his address, his demeanor powerful as it is daunting.

"In the past two months, we- as a nation- have suffered tremendously in this rising battle against a callous, barbaric human being. There are no words to describe how inexplicably egregious and diabolical the heinous crimes committed are; we can and have only promised to expend our greatest efforts to put an end to these merciless killings, and to serve justice to those who have fallen victim." He continues, his hard and aged eyes flitting every few times at his cue cards but holding the same power.

The once turbulent crowd is as quiet as can be, critically immersed in the words being spoken by the person in charge of keeping their neighborhood and their kin safe.

For a number of reasons, their silence is almost more deafening than their earlier rumpus.

"Two nights ago, the discovery of Oh Yoon-ah's slaughter marked our territory with a grievous sin and fear has no doubt spread like the plague. The Lotus has breached and tainted our haven, and it is absolutely unacceptable. It is absolutely unforgivable, and we plan on the immediate capture of the criminal behind these crimes and make them pay for their deeds."

"At this time, we are still at a disadvantage lacking information - but we have found new evidence from the preliminary autopsy report of Oh Yoon-ah-"

All of a sudden, Do Man-seok pauses, his faltered words echoing heavily off the microphone and hanging eldritchly in the air.

Song-hee's immersion in the oration breaks and she's taken aback seeing his tough exterior waver unexpectedly. It's enough to provoke the people as they start to mutter in alarm.

The chief clears his throat off-mic, regaining his composure quickly and seamlessly. Despite that, Song-hee's blood starts to run painstakingly cold.

How horrible must this discovery be to make a man of his rank and experience dither?

"From the preliminary autopsy report of Oh Yoon-ah, released to us yesterday with consent from the family, we have found definitive evidence to believe that the Lotus is male and that the victims of the crime did not die from the multiple stab wounds incurred or the slits on their throats - as we have initially believed. The victims died due to asphyxiation from the lotus petals."

Point-blank, the people go livid.

Song-hee's breath catches sharply in her throat and she almost chokes on her sudden inhale. She stumbles as if she'd been pushed backwards.

Jesus Christ.

Even though the crowd drowns out every other noise with their commotion, the ringing in her ears are like thunder and they pound in the inner recesses of her head.

Her eyes screw shut for a moment as she struggles with her balance.

They were alive? They were alive when the heartless bastard stuffed them?

"Ah," Song-hee gags, her hands balling tightly. She clutches onto her churning stomach, the blood draining from her already pale face.

"We are continuing our search and investigation with utmost urgency and we will keep fighting until this wickedly vile individual is held accountable for the crimes of terror they unleashed upon our beloved city - that they never cause any suffering again. With this being said, now more than ever, we urge citizens with substantial information about the homicides or the criminal to please contact us, the SMPA. We are raising our reward to one million, five-hundred thousand won for the identity of the Lotus."

No longer able to concentrate with the buzzing turned roaring static inside her head, Song-hee, still battling to keep herself planted, feels like she is drowning in the ocean of people.

From how they start to protest and push, she is squished and squeezed between flushed bodies and she struggles for a breath.

She pushes her way backwards, using all her strength to barrel through the relentless crowd even if it earns her furious looks.

She shields herself protectively - from the angry stares and the chaos all around. Her arms wrap feebly around her quaking body.

She needs to get out of here. She heard everything she needed to hear.

An accidental shove; a sharp elbow hits Song-hee straight down the small of her back and it makes her yelp out loud and lose balance. In an instant, a terrible pain blooms around the harmed spot and she whimpers, wincing.

"Hey, whoa, are you okay?"

The man she managed to latch onto before she could completely topple over asks with fret.

Song-hee pants, her face twisting in distress. Her hands grip onto ample arms, her fingertips pale from how tightly she is hanging onto the individual for support.

Effortlessly, he helps lift her up from her slumped position and she hisses.

"Song-hee?"

She looks up at the sound of her name.

"Jungkook?"

𖣔︎𖣔︎𖣔︎

"Hey, really, there's no need for this." Song-hee, embarrassed, tells the dark-haired man producing a pack of frozen peas and bottled drink from a plastic bag.

Although she waves him off, she still gratefully accepts the items with both hands, receiving them with a warm but bashful half-smile. They are cold and moist to the touch and, like her cheeks, her palms turn pink.

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing. The hit will bruise quicker if you don't treat it fast enough, you know." Jungkook - without looking at her - tells her matter-of-factly, like he's so well-versed in injuries.

After stuffing the crisp receipt in his pant's pocket, he folds neatly the now-empty convenient store bag before setting it on the space between them. He tries to silence his mind - his mind that is racing a mile a minute.

Damn the weakness in his knees. What a strange sensation, he thinks.

Song-hee observes him take a seat on the other end of the green bench with a soft sigh, the structure creaking a bit under his weight as he stretches his long legs out in front of him.

Judging from the glazed look in his eyes and the coltish bouncing of his right leg, he's lost in thought. Song-hee's face pinches in her abashed expression, feeling small with the other possibility in her head.

Or maybe he's feeling awkward having to look after an adult stranger.

Stealing another peek, Song-hee catches him shaking his head to move the overgrown raven bangs falling over his eyes and she wonders how old he must be.

If she were to take a guess, she would say he could be the same age as her, or maybe a few months younger.

He carried the same boyish charm from when she met him and his youthful appearance today is accentuated more by his laid-back outfit.

He had on a plain, light-grey round-neck a size too big on his lean build, black skinny jeans with rips on the knees, and tan Timberland boots.

At the back of her mind, she takes notice, too, that the faint bruise at the edge of his mouth from last time has lightened considerably and the small cut on the plump bed of his bottom lip has vanished completely.

If it weren't for her recalling how he looked like back in the grocery store, she would've forgotten he had the wounds at all.

"I'm sorry you got hurt earlier. Whoever elbowed you, they could've- at the very least- apologized." Jungkook tuts disapprovingly, gaze long and fixated somewhere in the distance as he comments on what had happened a while ago.

With his confessed concern, Song-hee lets out an amused breath - mainly of relief- knowing he wasn't bothered because of her.

She shakes her head softly.

It causes him to reel his eyes back from wherever he was looking at, curious as to why her sigh sounded like that.

Languidly, his head tilts as she leans forward to apply the pack of frozen peas to her back.

Keeping her silence, she pulls a face as the frosty package makes contact with her skin but resounds a contented 'ah' as the throbbing turns numb a few moments after.

Sinking back a bit, her shoulders raise softly in resignation.

"It was chaotic earlier though, I don't think I can blame whoever it was who hit me. I'm sure it was just an accident."

She looks out at the barren playground in front of them, disheartened by the lack of noisy children scampering around. It's just another reminder of the fear running rampant in the city.

Shifting in her seat to place the frozen vegetables better on her sore spot, she turns to Jungkook, who is looking at her intently, and gives him a genuine smile of appreciation.

"It would've been worse if you weren't there, you helped me after all. Again- thank you so much. This is above and beyond." She motions towards the items Jungkook had bought her.

Unprompted, Song-hee recenters her focus from him to the bright red beverage in her hand. Her eyebrows rise a bit.

"Cold brew red ginseng? You drink this stuff too?" She asks, toying with the bottle glistening with condensation, her attention stolen completely.

The topic changes so seamlessly and Jungkook is tempted to ask her to stop talking for a second. He didn't even have time to process or repeat in his head her thoughtful sentiment.

Does she just say such mild and amiable things so casually, like they're nothing?

He has an unreadable expression on but his countenance quickly changes once he is subjected back to her scrutiny.

His eyes fall on the drink before nodding with a meek grin.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I know it's an 'old person drink' but it helps with inflammation." He explains, lying through his teeth with skill.

He knows she likes this.

The girl beside him shakes her head. "You didn't even have to buy me anything," she says, eyeing him in a way as if to say he's silly for apologizing.

Weirdly enough, he suddenly does feel foolish about it.

"And, actually, red ginseng tea is my favorite. It's funny that this is what you picked out," her smile grows wider and Jungkook can only stare at her - study her - and the way she spoke so tenderly sharing with him her trivial nonsense.

"I guess we're really even now." He scratches the side of his cheek, his knowing jest accompanied by his white teeth as he shoots her a grin.

Song-hee catches on and chuckles along with him.

"No, I think I'm indebted to you this time. Thank you, though, really - this is really, really kind of you."

"With what we're dealing with now, I think being kind is what we all should be to each other." Jungkook thinks out loud, making an effort to look distinctly empathetic.

He is critical of her reaction and his pride swells seeing her pretty bronze eyes light up with his response.

She nods with vigor, a more serious, more ardent look sweeping across her dainty features.

"I think so too." She concurs pensively, the light-hearted persona disappearing.

He wonders what she's thinking about and why she's trying to downplay the bothersome expression fighting to break out on her face.

Her soft-looking fingers toy with the hem of her frayed mint-green sweater and Jungkook is transfixed with her every movement.

"Jungkook, if you don't mind- can I ask why you were at the address a while ago?"

He is caught off-guard with her question and he's sure it showed on his face for a second in the form of arched eyebrows.

His pink tongue swipes over his lips, coming up with an answer that would satisfy her fairly quickly.

He wants to smile and he almost actually does, but he restrains himself.

He can't help it - his being quick-witted is impressive. His intelligence aside though, he will give credit to where credit is due.

Thanks to Song-hee's obvious altruism, it seems that she will be much easier to hook than he anticipated.

"I know it's crazy, really, I do - but I want to track the Lotus down. These crimes - they have to stop."

[A/N: Sorry for the long wait HUHUHU I've been meaning to update but school's kept me so busy and I itched to edit the past chapters before writing this one :( still, I hope y'all enjoyed this and I can't wait to continue! I love you all, thank you for your continued support and love for this story! Borahae!]