XXXVIII

U N C L O T H E D  P L A N S

—aka, but with a bang,

INT— A ROOM.

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA— MIDNIGHT.

SCENE I.

On the night of my engagement, I was going to be whisked away like a princess in the arms of a prince to our happily ever after sunset supreme.

... the luckier description of my predicament.

And as we've established with this little story, 'lucky' is not what you would describe me.

In true Grimm Brothers' fashion, after faking an invasive procedure (the procedure was fake, the invasion of my psyche, not so) and lying about my new status as a pregnant woman, I was designated, accompanied by my darling beau (derogatory), to the bottom of the country to pay my respects, and meet his deranged (unfortunate truth) mother.

From my cursory research on the province, the island is one of the best summer vacation destination spots in the country, regaled with beach resorts and a voluminous amount of natural wonders. A dormant volcano, cave-like lava tubes, and a crater lake to start.

Pictures showed brilliant blue waters and wondrous sunsets you should see at least once in your lifetime, accompanied by a seafood collection that could kick a grown man into a coma.

Of course, considering the hour, I saw not a glimpse of that. If the darkened void that reached back wasn't enough, the clouds hung back overhead, fat and reckoning, promising an interesting flight.

"It's going to rain," I said, staring out of the hotel room, flickering against the curtain with a finger.

I was the only one immobile; Archie hated when I breathed, much less moved when things are being packed and ready. He was so high-strung whenever we had to move. As soon as I was washed and tucked into far more comfortable clothing, certainly a far cry from my elaborate, history-provoking outfit — I was made to be seen but not heard as nameless grunts in dark suits and flaccid faces moved about.

To the car, then to a plane, and then to the island.

"It is not," Archie hissed, broken reverie from his conversation with Kristoff in hushed heads and sprawling Korean to ensure I was locked out of said conversation to glare at me.

"Not right now. But later. Soon-ish." I turned to Kristoff. "We aren't riding a seaplane are we? That's going to be one hell of a turbulence otherwise."

"We are," Kristoff said, eyes narrowed at the dark shadows of his country behind me. "The jet is indisposed."

"Hm. Well. I hope your seaplane can hold against that."

Archie's eyes flashed in with a steely resolve of a mortal man capable of looking god in the eye and spitting on his face. "It will not rain."

As always, because really, if you're prepared to defy god, then you better be prepare to defy me too.

It wasn't just rain. It was a tumultuous downpour that went down hard against the small metal bird we were all— considering the difference between this bad boy and the jet that we were all used to that had enough space to avoid certain people once you've pissed them off — quite squished in.

Dark midnight was swallowed by a torrential of rage.

I turned to Archie who immediately felt my gaze, and without looking up, raised a finger.

"I don't want to—" A turbulence shook us. His jaw tightened as he held the leather seat tighter. I pressed a laugh between my teeth. "— hear it."

A hand reached over my own, covering it. His hand was cold. A snake swallowing the sun. I turned to Kristoff sat in front of me.

He has that expression again.

The guarded, lost one as if he was plunged in distant memories and stacked, towering walls of ivory. As if he was only halfway present. As if he too, was looking at plans upon plans. The difference between mine and his, is that he was wounded up tight by it.

As if everything was fast approaching.

As if everything had to be perfect.

The expression got more shuttered the longer the days went. The closer we got to the heart of this.

"Don't tell me you're scared of the rain too," I teased lightly. His hand pulled back from encompassing mine, to brushing his fingers across my knuckles, pads going over each bone with a subconscious rub.

"There won't be a room for you," he murmured. "You would be staying with me."

"I kind of figured. I mean." I snorted, cradling my invisible baby bump. "What else would they have to fear, right? Deed's done and all. How did you even bribe your grandfather's doctor?"

I was expecting the aged old 'money talks', but Kristoff's mouth, his echo of a smile, was twisted in a way that I felt... pity. I blinked. Pity?

"A promise of a life outside of this, a purview of hope." His hand glided over my palm, flipping my hand back and I shivered against his finger tracing my palm, down to my pulse point. "Especially to a sinner."

"Sinner..." I bit my lip as he pressed his thumb against the pulse that he found. "I never thought you'd be religious. Or a fan of riddles."

He huffed.

"Was that... a laugh, Kristoff Park?"

"It was not."

"Are you lying to me?"

His thumb pressed harder. My pulse fluttered in response. "I told you. I never lie. I am implying you are hard of hearing."

"Blasphemy. My hearing is impeccable."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Dick.

"I thought you just spoke in vague hints but now I see you've developed riddles and lying too."

Before I could figure out the quick shot of expression that was gone in a second— his eyes glanced down as he pulled my hand forward and kissed a finger, brushing his lips down ever so briefly against my palm, exhaling against sensitive skin, before pressing a final kiss to my pulse.

"I want you to stick close to me once we get there. Do not leave my eyesight. The only way I know you are safe is when I can see it with my own two eyes, do you understand?"

"You sound like you're going to war," I whispered.

"We already are."

The pressing reminder that I hadn't seen KC since the party prevailed in my mind. That despite the seaplane only large enough for a few passengers (still larger than other seaplanes I've been in), there were three extra men in here. Another one in the cockpit, beside the pilot. I had glanced over briefly to make eye contact with a suited man holding a pretty heavy gun.

I leaned forward, trying to keep my voice even and quiet between us. "What do you plan on doing, Kristoff? I feel like I'm at a crescendo. Waiting the fall."

"What I've always told you." He inclined his head. "I've told you as best as I can."

"Becoming the most assholish man in the family?"

He pinched my wrist. He actually pinched my wrist.

"Hey!"

He only raised an eyebrow. "Just because I let it slide the last time, doesn't mean I would allow it again."

'Allow' please. I was getting real tired of that word. I shot him an irritated look, almost sarcastic. "Was that a lapse of judgement, then?"

"A sympathy."

I snorted, leaning back. He mimicked my movements, getting comfortable again, but he didn't release my hand. One elbow on the side arm of his seat, chin on his palm, and his other hand continued playing with my fingers with that same faraway, non-present look locked in a series of hidden thoughts.

I let him dance around my fingers, just... watching him. The intimate domesticities have been a lot more relevant since we had sex, a natural craving of a familiar warmth. I initiated out of playfulness at first, a means to tease, but Kristoff seemed to have opened up to it as a sign of natural progression.

"What?" he said after a while.

"What do you mean what?"

"Your silence. Your stare." He turned to me. "You are not an open book, Antonina. You are expressive but guarded. Not every emotion is honest. It's hard for me to recognise what they mean unless you tell me explicitly."

"Good."

"Hm."

"But no, it's the sympathy comment."

His mouth twisted. "Are you saying I am incapable of sympathy?"

"Yes." Then I paused. "Maybe. You have a kindness but it's... I don't know. It's late. I don't know where my mind was going with that, sorry."

"Hmm." In a voice that resembled teasing but I knew in my gut, in how inflected his tone was, in his words, I recognised the tone, he said, "Even the devil knows sympathy."

"From when he was an angel?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Sympathy is a human emotion. He found it when he learned every emotion as he looked up from the dirt of where his father threw him."

SCENE II.

The rain didn't let up once, resulting in a shaky touchdown and a car ride that was convoluted to the expanse of the car and nothing else. Outside of the splatter hitting the windows was darkness.

"Sleep," Kristoff said, pressing the side of my head to his shoulder before I could react. When I didn't move, too stunned, he took it as an acquisition as he laced our hands together. "I'll wake you up when we get there."

The lull of a quiet car with the world plunged into a storm outside was a shot of melatonin. Before I fully took to sleep, quiet voices murmured.

"We won't be able to get to the manor in time," Archie said. "The road after the intersection is closed due to flooding. We'll have to rest at a hotel close by."

Kristoff uttered in Korean that I just felt it in my bones was a curse. "And the rest?"

"They got there before the rain got harder, so it's fine."

"Who—?"

"No one," Archie said firmly. "Anthony has everything arranged."

"I'm more surprised there aren't anymore complaints on his part."

"There were a few. Would you like me to report that too?"

A silence. I tried very hard not to snort. Archie-1, Kristoff-2.

"Sorry. I'm just on edge. Our people in the manor has said that Nana has been lucid recently, so the doctor had to raise her intake."

"... Is that why she tried to harmed herself?"

"That's what I'm thinking."

"Clever," Kristoff spat the word as if it offended him. "And what does he think?"

"Our grandfather?" Archie snorted. "In his own cold and cruel way, concerned but nothing else."

"And Natasha?"

"The jet had picked them up hours ago. If the rain doesn't deter they're arrival, they'll touch down at the same ETA in the morning we reach the manor."

"Good." I felt a hand press the side of my head again, and I tried to even out my breathing as if I had fallen asleep. As if my body had not gone cold from several fucking realisations.

"Good," he repeated.

People that he sent ahead at their ancestral house... lead by KC could only mean soldiers. He'd sent an army ahead.

Our grandfather... Park Baek Je was Archie's grandfather as well. Kristoff and him are cousins.

Natasha was coming... with someone. Or someones.

My finger twitched. The urge to tap. The urge to escape.

I shoved it down. I reminded myself of the blue maid. Of my escape plan. I need to find her, need to get myself very acquintanced with the premises, and an exit plan to get ahead.

Because whatever the fuck is happening soon, I am going to assume I am going to need that escape plan more than anything.

Well. . . how ya'll doing?