The dark-haired man watched carefully as the bartender placed three glasses on the bar, then filled them with golden liquid in one skillful movement. When the other, setting down a bottle with a cap shaped like a small, almost furiously red sombrero, finally pushed all glasses towards him, his mouth twitched into a grin, exposing a row of straight teeth. Before his hands even grasped the glass, Taehyung cursed in his mind, wanting at all costs to turn back time to the point where he was making the damn wrong decision to come here at all. At the time, it seemed like a pretty good idea. After all, he hadn't gone anywhere for a long time. But now he regretted this reckless decision, every time the strong alcohol trickled down the back wall of his screamed-scarred throat.

"Don't even look at me like that," the older man scolded before he could even open his mouth to protest, and held out one of the glasses in his direction. "This is for you," he explained, and when he saw his friend's lips parting to refuse, he quickly added: "Before you say anything... It's an official order."

Taehyung snorted and shook his head. Without protesting, however, he finally took a glass from his friend.

He should have thought better before making up his mind to befriend his boss.

He had known Yoongi almost from the very beginning of his service. He met him when, after graduating from the academy, he joined the Seoul unit. The man was only a few years older than him, but he had many impressive achievements to his record. He was smart and fearless. This is why he wanted to get under his wing. He felt that he could learn a lot from him, and he was right.

During these seven years of work, they have experienced a lot together. Their beginnings were not easy. Nor were they among the most pleasant memories he had shared with him. Min was very strict and fucking demanding on him. He kept lashing out at him, telling him to stay overtime. He demanded more of him than of others in the unit. He often thought that the older one would take it out on him when he was in a bad mood, but he quickly understood why Yoongi was doing it - he wanted to make him the best.

And he succeeded.

Taehyung was one of his best people today. He had the most resolved cases and the greatest number of arrests. There was no one in the unit who fired more accurately than he, or no one who was so fierce and so determined.

"This is for you," Min continued, this time handing the other glass to the slender man on the other side of him.

As Taehyung might have expected, his other friend grabbed the glass without hesitation and drank all of its contents almost immediately, then he and Min looked at him expectantly. So he glanced at the glass in his hand and reluctantly lifted it to his mouth, only to pour the golden liquid down his throat a moment later. When a burning warmth spread down his throat, and that specific agave aroma settled on his tongue, he grimaced involuntarily. He quickly grabbed one of the lemon slices previously prepared by the bartender and quickly gritted his teeth on it, sipping the sour juice to minimize the spicy taste of the tequila.

"Relax, Tae," Hoseok called, patting him on the back. "We have closed the case, and we can finally celebrate."

"You know I don't like places like this," he replied curtly, setting his glass down on the bar.

"Oh, C'mon! Just look ahead!" Hoseok ordered, pointing to the crowd of dancing bodies on the dance floor, only a few paces away. "There are only beauties here," he added, eyeing one of the dancing girls nearby, and she, almost as if she felt his gaze on her, turned her gaze in their direction.

The girl stared at them for a long moment, not stopping dancing, as if she wanted to encourage them to come closer and join her on the dance floor. Taehyung had to admit that the stranger was really attractive. Her body was slim, and her movements were sensual and very sexy. But looking at her, he could see nothing but another pretty face, and he felt he needed a lot more.

He didn't like half measures.

Either someone knocks him off his feet and takes over his world, or he dies alone, surrounded by a million dogs or cats.

"Ooh, you must have caught someone's eye," the older one laughed, poking him gently.

"Dicks, Hobi," Min said suddenly, approaching them with more shots, and Hoseok shifted his already somewhat cloudy gaze to him, as if he didn't quite understand what Min was talking about. "Taehyung. Likes. Dicks," Yoongi explained, slowly articulating the words, then held out his glass towards Kim. "He will never remember," he added, snorting. He leaned against the bar, almost shoulder to shoulder with Taehyung, and looked at the dance floor.

"But it's not a problem," Jung said quickly, slipping his arm over his friend's neck, almost hanging himself on top of him. "We'll find you in a moment some nice dick," he added, bringing his lips closer to the younger man as if he were going to whisper the confession straight into his ear. His tequila-moist lips gently brushed his earlobe.

His voice, however, was far from a whisper. In fact, he was almost screaming straight into his ear, teasing his already sensitive eardrums. Due to the percentages circulating in his veins, the man swayed a little, thus leaning a heavier weight on Taehyung's shoulder, his alcohol-warmed breath crashing against the younger man's neck.

"Ooooh! Look!" He called, pointing his finger at some boy who was approaching the bar. "This one is very handsome, huh?" He asked, his eyebrows wiggling at the same time.

"And very married," Kim replied.

"Huh?" Jung groaned, clearly disappointed, then looked at the stranger again, as if to see if he would find a wedding ring or some other mark on his hand that might indicate that Taehyung was right.

"There is a characteristic deformation on the ring finger of his left hand, which means that he has been wearing a wedding ring on it for a long time. It's not on his finger now, but as he approached the bar, he involuntarily touched the small pocket on his right breast. This is probably where he hid the wedding ring, and he was afraid that he would accidentally lose it, so he instinctively checked if it was still there..." Taehyung began to explain, watching the young man closely. "He doesn't seem to be a regular visitor to such places. He's probably some businessman. I don't think that he's from here. I bet he's Japanese because he has facial features characteristic of the Japanese people. He's probably on some business trip here, and he's decided to take advantage of his newly acquired freedom a bit before returning to his wife. He looks tired. He's not getting enough sleep. I think they have a child. Little one. The baby often wakes up crying at night. As he walked towards the bar, he straightened his hair and smoothed the cuffs of his shirt to look good, never taking his eyes off the group of girls sitting at the bar. His eyes, however, followed the movements of this tiny Asian woman in a red dress a little longer. She is his target. If he succeeds, he will invite her to his hotel room..."

He would have continued, but it was enough for Min next to him to laugh out loud, throwing his head back as he pushed the body away from the bar and patted Hoseok on the chest.

"The kid learned from the best," he praised him.

"There is no fun with you," Jung muttered, pretending to be offended. "You should stop playing detective sometime and just relax a bit. You are young. You should have a little fun, Tae," he added, dragging the words a little from the excess alcohol.

"I'm having fun," Kim protested, although he silently cursed himself for how uncertain the words sounded in his mouth. "Sometimes..." he added, a bit embarrassed.

The truth was, he couldn't remember even when or if he had ever really spent even one day like a normal boy. Probably the last time he had spent a carefree day was before his eighth birthday.

Then everything changed.

For nearly twenty years, he has done everything to be the best and to prevent any child from encountering what happened to him.

"I'm not talking about going to the shooting range, Tae," Jung replied, looking him straight in the eye.

Despite the alcohol he had drunk, his words suddenly became serious, as if all the percentages he had consumed had evaporated from him in an instant.

"When was the last time you were on a date? Or when you just picked up some guy in the bar, huh? How long has it been since you broke up with this... What was his name... Soo..."

"Soohyun," Taehyung replied, feeling a strange bitterness at the thought of his ex-partner.

He met Soohyun through one of his friends - Jimin. His ex had studied at the same college as Park and had come from the same wealthy circles. He charmed him with his radiant smile and the fact that he always acted like a real gentleman in his company. They had been a couple for almost five years, and when he thought it was really serious, it turned out that Soo had cheated on him. Perhaps not even once. It was enough for Taehyung to cut himself off completely. The man excused himself with the excessive amount of alcohol he had drunk, the moment of weakness, but he would no longer be able to trust him. He packed his things and moved out of their shared apartment. He has been alone since then.

"Almost a year," he admitted reluctantly.

"A year, Tae," repeated Hoseok. "You must finally forget about that jerk," he said, and jabbed him in the chest with his finger. "You're great, okay? You know that, right? I love you. Really..." he continued, hanging his arm around his neck again. "If I were gay... you'd be my number one," he added, running a finger along his collarbone as if trying to seduce him.

Taehyung laughed softly at his friend's words, although he felt a bitter taste on his tongue, which was not caused by the shot he had drunk a moment ago.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be alone. It was just hard for him to trust someone again, and his profession did not make it easier to create any relation with potential partners. Besides, somehow no one he had met so far had aroused in him strong enough emotions to make him feel intrigued.

"Thank you, Hobi," he replied, still amused by his admission.

He met Hoseok about two years ago, when a man transferred from the drug department to them. At first he seemed a bit inaccessible to him, and when Yoongi said that he would become his partner, he was not entirely convinced that it was a good idea. At first, he even tried to shirk it, saying that he preferred to work alone, but Min refused to give up. It turned out, however, that they created a great team together. Now they got along almost wordlessly, and Jung became one of his best friends. He almost treated him like the brother he never had.

Right now a bit drunk and fucking bothersome brother.

"Oh, fu-ck!" Jung cursed suddenly. "Look at the dance floor!" He exclaimed. "Sorry guys, but this is the mother of my kids right there, so I'll see you later, huh?" he announced, then quickly took another shot.

Not even bothering to bite the taste of alcohol with lemon, he moved forward, swaying his hips, dancing towards the dance floor.

Taehyung watched him go, then watched his friend talk freely to one of the girls dancing on the dance floor for a long moment. As he guessed, Jung probably threw a few compliments at her, because the dark-haired girl was clearly blushing. After a while, however, she smiled shyly at him and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, blinking coquettishly with her long lashes. She seemed to be interested in him too.

It did not surprise him at all. Even though his friend was slightly tipsy now, he was actually a very attractive man. He seduced his partners with his radiant smile without any problems. He was smart and funny. He had no problem getting women. On the contrary, they were drawn to him like bees to a pot of honey. Sometimes, when he looked at him, he envied him this freedom. He would probably never dare to do something like this, although probably many people, judging only by his appearance, would expect something completely different from him. When not in a police uniform, he was more sporty. He loved leather jackets. He often hid his slightly longer hair under a cap, and he hid his dark eyes behind the brim of his favorite baseball cap. He was confident, funny and outspoken. Nor did he complain about his success. Despite his orientation, he had success with both women and men. However, after the break-up of a long-term relationship, it was difficult for him to trust someone again, and so far he did not meet anyone who would arouse his interest enough to want to take a risk. After breaking up with Soohyun, he threw himself into the whirlwind of work. More than once, Min would literally force him out of his office, unable to bear the fact that he was still sitting after hours.

"Hobi is wasted, but he's right," a voice suddenly said beside him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He raised his hand and ran it over his dark curls, brushing away with his fingers the long fringe that fell in soft waves over his dark eyes, then sighed and turned towards the bar, resting his forearms on the countertop slightly damp with spilled liquids. Almost instinctively, he reached out for one of the glasses and carefully twisted it in his fingers, staring at the golden liquid.

"I know," he admitted. "It's just... I don't know."

They were silent for a long time, standing almost shoulder to shoulder. Taehyung stared at the glass and Min stared at him. He could feel his eyes on him, even though he did not dare to look up at him. He knew well that his boss understood exactly what he was going through at the moment. They were both here for very similar reasons.

He learned about Yoongi's story even before he joined his unit. Min wasn't from here. He grew up in Daegu. He came from one of the poorest districts of the city. When he was still a teenager, his sister, who was two years younger than him, overdosed. Someone gave her cocaine mixed with, God only knows what, shit. This directed his entire adult life and led him to work in the unit. He also worked undercover for several years, trying to bring to justice the people responsible for selling drugs to kids in his neighborhood. He knew it was a personal matter for him. Perhaps that's why he led it to the very end, allowing it to leave a permanent mark on his soul. Probably as permanent as the scar he could see now if he looked at him.

He never asked about it, but Hoseok once told him it was a scar after a fight the man had fought with the one responsible for his sister's death. He also knew that during the attempt to arrest him, there had been a shootout between the criminals and the police. As a result, the gangster was killed by one of the agents. He wanted to ask Min if he ever regretted that he was not the one to pull the trigger, but he never had the courage to do so. Perhaps because deep down he knew the answer to that question anyway.

"It's not long, right?" Yoongi suddenly asked, and Taehyung swallowed hard.

They hadn't talked about it for a long time, but he knew exactly what his friend was asking about. Only he in the unit knew his past. When he moved here, he asked that this information be kept secret. He didn't want anyone to see him through the prism of his father's achievements, or worse, through the prism of his death. So far, he has not told Hoseok about it. He didn't like to mention it.

"Tomorrow it is gonna be twenty years," he gasped, and raised the tequila glass to his lips, then tilted it and poured the entire contents down his throat. The spicy alcohol irritated his tongue and palate unpleasantly, but for a moment as if he had specifically allowed it. Finally, however, he grabbed a piece of lemon and gritted his teeth on it. "I'll go now," he said, setting his glass down on the bar with a loud clang.

He was about to walk past his friend when he reached out and grasped his forearm, his fingers gripping his skin. Taehyung finally looked up and met the warm gaze of a man a few years older. His eyes moved to the faint red scar that crossed his right eye, ending at the bones of his cheek.

"If you wanted to talk..." Yoongi said.

"Thanks," Kim replied, raising the corners of his lips for a few seconds. "Will you be able to deal with Hobi? You may have to..." he began, but the older one did not let him finish.

"Sure," he interrupted. "I promise to get him home in one piece."

Taehyung nodded and walked past his boss, slowly making his way toward the exit. He squeezed through the dance floor with difficulty, trying to avoid the dancing people as nimbly as he could, which was not such an easy task. When he finally got to the door, he pushed it quickly and went outside. Only when the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him did he take a deep breath, drawing the crisp air into his lungs. It was already quite late. He wasn't looking at his watch, but guessed it was probably around three or four in the morning. It was warm when he left, so he didn't take his jacket with him. Now, however, he regretted that he was wearing only a short-sleeved T-shirt. But he didn't feel like hailing a cab. He was only about twenty minutes from his apartment, so he decided to walk back. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and started forward, his shoulders bobbing slightly.

By the time he had gone two blocks, there was almost no one left on the street. Only occasionally a car passed him, heading towards busier neighborhoods loaded with numerous pubs and clubs that were still teeming with life. He knew this path by heart. He had walked this way a million times. But the longer he walked, the more he felt that he was not alone. He could have sworn he felt someone's eyes on him. Instinctively, he looked from side to side, then behind. But no one was around, and the only sounds came to him only from pubs several meters away.

Ignoring this strange feeling, he continued on. He was not worried about his safety. His body was lean, but extremely strong and enduring. Over the last few years, he has been working on his condition almost every day. He swam, ran, and went to the gym. He could use almost any weapon. He had an incredibly accurate eye, and a few years ago he took a taekwondo course, earning a black belt. He knew this city and these streets. He knew what the criminals thought. So he felt no fear. It was a completely different feeling. He was almost convinced that someone was following him.

As he passed one of the dead-end streets that was only a few meters from his house, something suddenly caught his attention. He saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye, and instinctively stopped to look down the alley. At first glance it seemed empty, but for some inexplicable reason his pulse sped up. He pinched his eyebrows together and took two steps forward, carefully placing his feet on the curve of the sidewalk.

"Hello?" He exclaimed. "Anyone here?"

When he heard only an unidentified rustle in response, he again took a few steps forward. His body tensed, ready to repel the attack. He bent his knees slightly and looked down the alley. It was dark and there was no lantern nearby, so it was hard to see exactly what was there.

He noticed several garbage cans in the background. On the opposite side there was an old, clearly damaged car. The mask was rusty, dented and covered with some poor quality graffiti that was probably supposed to be the signature of some pseudo artist. The car windows were broken. Beside the saggy tires, he could see a few shards of glass reflecting the only light that crept into the aisle, which came from a sharply glowing neon sign belonging to one of the shops located on the other side of the street.

"Who is there?" He asked as he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.

However, this time also his question was not answered. He cursed almost silently and took another few steps forward as he approached the container. His senses began to sharpen, he placed his feet carefully so as not to accidentally drown out even the slightest rustle that might tell him where his attacker was. His right hand approached the right hip where he usually carried a gun, even though he knew that his service Smith & Wesson was now secured in a hiding place under the bed in his apartment. The longer he stayed here, the more convinced he was that someone was hiding from him.

But without asking any more questions, he covered the last few meters, still taking care to put his feet carefully on the sidewalk and peek from time to time to see if anyone was trying to get him from behind. When the container was within arm's reach, he noticed that on its upper part there was some kind of cloth or blanket under which an adult could hide. So he held his breath and carefully extended his hand. His hand did not tremble. He was remarkably calm. When he felt a slightly rough fabric under his fingertips, he clenched his fist and pulled it towards him with a quick, decisive movement.

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, instinctively jumping back a step, when suddenly a huge black bird appeared from under the cloth and soared into the air with a loud screech. "Holy shit!" He added, putting his right hand at the height of his galloping mad heart, and for a moment tried to even out his troubled breathing.

Only after a while was he able to move again. He ran a hand through his dark hair, then bent down and grasped the blanket he had pulled from the container in his right hand. He tossed it back to its previous position. As he did so, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that something dark had fallen to the ground beside his feet. But it was so dark that he couldn't tell what it was. So he bent down and grasped the object in his fingers. It was only when he raised his hand and let what he held in it be illuminated by the remnants of light entering the alley that he saw what he had actually found - a black feather.

"Fucking bird," he snorted, then tossed the feather to the ground, letting it drop to the sidewalk next to his feet, and turned on his heel and continued to his apartment again.

***

Taehyung quickly slipped his sunglasses over his eyes and tilted his head slightly, moving quickly forward. It was quite cloudy. It even looked as though it might start raining soon, but the overabundance of stimuli irritated him greatly. He thought his head was about to burst and literally split in two. Yesterday, he was pretty sure he hadn't had that much to drink. In the morning, however, he cursed all the choices made the night before when he woke up with a hangover he hadn't felt in a long time.

His head seemed to weigh a ton, he felt an unpleasant throbbing in his temples, and his senses seemed extremely alert. Even driving here, he didn't turn on the music, which he always played to make the ride pleasant, because he was afraid that the sounds of an electric guitar were far too much for his current capabilities. He hadn't eaten anything since the morning, because at the very thought of eating, the contents of his stomach were in his throat. He only got a few sips of hot coffee. He still thought he felt the characteristic taste of tequila on his tongue, and in his mind he solemnly swore that he would never take it again, promising himself that if Yoongi told him again that it was an official order, he would immediately ask for a transfer to another unit.

He knew it wasn't going to be a nice or easy day, considering the anniversary he couldn't and wouldn't forget, and the hangover made him really wish he'd ever decided to get out of bed at all. He had a day off today, so if he wanted, he could hide under the covers and spend the whole day sleeping, or just vegetating on a soft mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of his apartment. But he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he hadn't come here.

It was already a tradition. He came here every year, at exactly the same time, no matter what the weather was like or how he didn't feel himself. And so it always felt almost as if some invisible fist was squeezing his throat and kneading his chest that day. It might as well crush his head now.

He was walking quite quickly, with a steady pace. He knew the way so well that he didn't even have to look around. His body almost involuntarily turned into the appropriate alleys, leading him deeper into the cemetery. The closer he got, the tighter his hand tightened on the bouquet of white roses he was clutching in his right hand. He always brought white roses. These were his mother's favorite flowers.

Finally, he reached the appropriate alley and quickly covered the last meters, only to stop above a tomb that had been already a little consumed by time. Crouching, he only stared at the old black-and-white photograph of his parents for a few minutes. It was a photo taken shortly after his birth, still in the hospital. It was his aunt who chose this photo. She claimed that they were the happiest then, and this is how she wished him to remember them.

In fact, his memories faded more and more. Sometimes it seemed to him that perhaps it was only a dream. He wasn't sure what was the real memory, and what was merely a figment of his mind. The only thing he couldn't forget, even if he really wanted to, was that day.

The day someone decided to destroy their family.

Today it had been exactly twenty years since those events, and he still couldn't forget how, as a little boy, he stood on the doorstep of his aunt's house, when she collapsed on the lawn in despair and then shed crocodile tears in the arms of one of the policemen. He remembered the red and blue lights of a police car flashing across her face twisted in pain as she asked, How am I going to tell him this? How?

He did not remember much from the moment of their conversation. Probably the shock was so strong that these unpleasant words did not stay in his memory for good. He remembered, however, that as soon as the police arrived at his aunt's house, they were taken to the police station in one of the police cars. He was still wearing the Spiderman pajamas he adored at the time. And then they sat there for long, long hours that seemed to go on forever.

"This is for you, Mom," he finally said, lifting the bouquet gently as if to demonstrate it to someone. "Your favorites," he added, then carefully slid the bouquet into the stone vase.

As he was arranging the flowers, one of the buds fell off. He caught it almost in flight, stopped it from falling at the last moment, then stared at the white rose for a while. He didn't throw it away, though, he straightened the other flowers and, still holding the torn bud in his hand, looked at his parents' names carved into the cold marble.

"You, dad, are probably curious how the last case I told you about ended..." he continued. "We got them," he added, lifting the corners of his lips in a gentle smile. "You'd be proud of me. You'd be so damn proud..."

Taehyung paused, feeling he is unable to speak any further. Today was an exceptionally hard day. It might seem that since twenty years had passed, it would be easier in the end, but today proved to him that it was not so. He ran a hand through his hair, running his fingers through the dark strands, feeling his throat tighten painfully.

"I can't believe it's been twenty years," he whispered, as if afraid someone might hear him, even though there was not a single living soul around.

Suddenly, as if taken out of his reverie, he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and took out the little candle he had bought before coming here. He lifted the lid and grabbed the matches. He took one out and rubbed its end against a stick to set it on fire, but it only broke right next to the head. So he took out another one and did the same with it, but it didn't want to set itself on fire either. He moved it several times, but only damaged the flammable mass that covered the head of the match. So he cursed under his breath and, with undisguised irritation, pulled out another one. This time, however, it was enough for him to run across the match striker to make the head catch the yellow flame. He set the wick on fire carefully, and with a quick swipe he extinguished the fire. He covered the candle again and placed it on his parents' grave.

He spent the rest of the time just staring at the names carved on the tombstone. He couldn't concentrate on his thoughts. He also didn't know what else to say. He didn't know how to put into words what he felt now. After he calmed down a bit, he finally felt he was ready to go. Reaching out his hand, he ran his fingertips over the cold grave tenderly, as if it were to say goodbye to them, then stood up. He looked once more at the hand that was still holding the white bud and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. He moistened his lips, slowly running his tongue over them, and sighed aloud.

"I'll go," he said, as if he felt the need to explain himself. "I got a bit held up today..." That said, he bowed slightly, then turned on his heel and moved forward.

There was almost no living soul in the cemetery. Only a few alleys away did he see the old woman. She stood with her back to him and did not pay the slightest attention to him. She looked immersed in prayer. Her eyes were closed and her head was slightly bowed. Still, he had the same strange feeling he had when he came home yesterday. He thought someone was watching him. He looked around him and increased his pace. But suddenly he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He quickly raised his right hand, which was still holding the torn bud of a white rose, and gripped his sunglasses, wanting to remove them from his eyes to get a better look at what he saw. But before he could slip his glasses off, a huge bird flew towards him, tearing a flower from his hand.

"What the...!?" He began, but stopped quickly.

He pulled off his glasses and followed the bird. He couldn't explain it, but he was pretty sure it was the same bird he had seen in that dark alley yesterday. It was big and pitch black. At this distance it was hard to say for sure, and he didn't know much about the species of birds, but he was convinced it was a raven. For a moment, he followed his wide wings with his eyes. He was convinced that this one would fly somewhere miles away. This time, however, to his surprise, the bird stopped on one of the tombstones a few meters away. Having opened its beak, the raven let the white bud fall to the grave, as if it was where the flowers were laid.

Taehyung drew his eyebrows together and ran his tongue quickly over his lower lip, feeling his mouth go dry. For a moment he stood almost paralyzed, merely staring at the bird, and though it might seem unbelievable, he was convinced that the strange animal was also watching him, as if waiting for his reaction. Intrigued, he carefully took a few steps forward, reducing the distance between them. He was pretty sure the raven would fly away in a moment, as scared by his presence as it had been yesterday, but this time it hadn't happened.

Encouraged, he came even closer, then stopped literally two paces away from it. He studied it for a long moment. He had never seen such a large crow in his life. It was beautiful. Its pitch-black feathers almost shone. The animal sat on the tombstone all the time, watching him with dark eyes.

"What do you want from me, hm?" He asked, before realizing he had spoken the words aloud.

He was glad no one was around. Probably, seeing him talking to a bird while standing in the middle of the cemetery, they would think he was a total madman. But it seemed to him that at his words, the crow turned its head, as if listening to his words.

"I guess I'm starting to go crazy..." he muttered to himself, however, reflecting on how ridiculous it was that he was talking to a bird.

He turned on his heel and was about to move forward again, when suddenly the raven behind him gave a loud screech and flapped its wings quickly. Taehyung looked back instinctively. Why did he have the strange feeling that this stupid animal was trying to tell him something? He looked at it again for a moment, but finally he shifted his gaze a little lower. Working in the department taught him that you should seek guidance everywhere. So he looked at the grave where the bird had landed.

The tomb was old, badly neglected, as if no one had been here for many years. He didn't know why, but he felt a strange sadness at the thought that whoever lay there seemed to have been long forgotten by his loved ones. On some strange impulse, he took a step forward and cautiously stretched out his hand to brush aside the vine leaves that covered almost the entire tombstone. It was only when he did so that he could see the barely visible epitaph carved into the gray stone.

'To live in the heart of those we love, is never to die'.

The sentence filled his body with a strange sense of sadness, nostalgia. Whoever lay here was once very important to someone. He pushed a few more branches of the vine aside to read the name. He didn't know why it was suddenly so important to him. He did not know this person. Looking at the condition of the tomb now, this someone must have died many years ago, but something was telling him that he should do so. When he finally dug into the inscription, he noticed that it was barely visible, and the surface of the tombstone was cracked. However, he saw with difficulty that it was the family's grave. They were the parents and their child. All three died on the same day, so he guessed it must have been some tragic accident. After a while, he also noticed that the boy was less than six years old at the time of his death, and something suddenly felt tight in his chest.

If he were alive, he would be almost his age now.

But maybe it was better for him? If he were alive, he would probably feel the same way as he did. Perhaps it would be him here that he would meet instead of this strange bird, which still seemed to be staring at him with its dark eyes. He reached out and carefully grasped the rose that the bird had released from its beak moments ago, and carefully slipped it into the almost completely destroyed vase, then stood up. He looked up to look at the raven again, but before he could do so, the bird flew away and disappeared over the treetops in seconds.

Taehyung started toward the exit, crouching a little more in the cold wind. The temperature had dropped considerably since he came here, the wind grew stronger, and the sky was even more cloudy. He could feel the air damp and was pretty sure it was going to rain. So he quickened his pace, but before he managed to cross the exit, he felt the first drops of rain on his cheek. He quickly tucked the hood of his black sweatshirt over his head, tucked his dark hair beneath it, and almost jogged towards the car, which he had parked a few meters from the main gate. But it only took a few seconds, and the rain grew so intense that he ran the rest of the way, trying to cover the distance between him and the car as quickly as possible. As he ran, he could have sworn he heard the loud croaking of a raven behind him, like a loud laugh.

***

When Jeongguk opened his eyes, he was enveloped in total darkness. He didn't know where he was. He was so confused that he could not collect his thoughts. He moved cautiously forward, running his hands along the walls of the narrow corridor in which he stood. His breathing was quick, chaotic, as if he had run a marathon a moment ago, but he had no idea how he even got here. He parted his lips to scream, but no words came out of his mouth. So he started to run, wanting to get out of this strange room as quickly as possible. Everything seemed to spin around him, although the darkness in which he was immersed prevented him from seeing anything.

He didn't even know how long he ran. The muscles in his thighs burned with living fire, his lungs contracting painfully with each breath. He could feel sweat trickling down his strong back, rolling down his spine. A few drops beaded his temples, gluing long, jet black hair to his forehead. But when he felt something drip onto his face, he instinctively raised his hand and wiped his cheek quickly. Feeling cold and damp under his fingers, he frowned. Before he thought about it, suddenly a characteristic noise crept into his ears that could only mean one thing - rain.

Feeling the drops breaking on his face, he blinked a few times and suddenly saw that the darkness before his eyes was slowly turning into something else. Some strange blurry image he still couldn't recognize. He felt sick. He felt as if someone had intoxicated him with something, or as if he had alcohol coursing through his veins, even though he knew he hadn't drunk a gram. His mouth was incredibly dry, his lips slightly chapped as if he hadn't had a drink in hours.

He blinked a few more times and suddenly realized that he was not standing at all, but lying. He could feel the rain-wet soil sticking to his body. It hurt, as if he had just run a marathon or had fallen from a great height, but he forced himself to lift himself up on his strong, tattooed forearms. It was only when he managed to get up to a sitting position that his eyes grew so used to the light that he was able to see what was in front of him.

"What the...?!" He choked out with difficulty.

His voice sounded strange. It was hoarse, as if he hadn't said a word in a long time. Confused, he looked around quickly, not understanding what was actually happening or how he even got here. There was a tall, branchy tree to his left, and to his right he could see a twisting grapevine. Several vines were tangled around his forearm. The rain grew stronger with each passing moment, his shoulder-length dark hair twirling with wetness and sticking to his face.

Jeongguk looked down at his feet and saw that his body was naked, dirty from the damp soil on which he had been lying, god knows how long. He pulled himself harder, not sure if he would be able to get to his feet, and felt his back pressed against something hard and cold. He shuddered at the unpleasant feeling and turned just enough to look at what was behind him. What he saw made all the contents of his stomach sink into his throat, even though he felt he hadn't eaten in a long time.

Instinctively, he stretched out his hand and grasped the vines that covered the grave, on which he had been leaning so far. His heart pounded furiously as he ran his fingertips over the barely visible name - Jeon Jeongguk.

It was enough, however, for his fingers to touch the cold grave, and an image appeared in his head that he did not want to remember. The sound of gunshots crept into his ears. Father's call. Mother's scream.

Unable to bear these memories, he grabbed his head, trying to cover his ears with his hands as if it would help to drown out those awful sounds. With each passing minute, however, more and more chaotic images broke into his head. Screeching tires. Father ordering his mother to run away. The sound of a struggle. A gunshot. The noise of breaking glass. Scream. Sob. Rapid breathing. Loud mother's heartbeat close to his ear. Another shot. First. Second. Third... The metallic smell of blood. Fear. Pain. Ambulance lights. The sound of hospital equipment.

And then only silence and darkness...

These sounds seemed to literally tear his eardrums, although all this was only happening in his head. He struggled to his feet and staggered, he wandered ahead, holding his head all the time to hold back those horrible memories.

He didn't want to remember.

He couldn't understand what really happened. Why was he here? He didn't remember how he got here. He didn't understand what he was doing in the cemetery, almost in the middle of the night. Why had someone inscribed his name next to his parents' names on the grave? Why couldn't he remember what he was doing a few hours ago? What was he doing yesterday, or even a week ago.

All he remembered was that evening.

That nightmare evening.

Did it really happen?

It couldn't be true. It just had to be a bad dream.

He didn't know where to go, or really where exactly he was. Has someone kidnapped him and dumped his body here, hoping he would die?

He was completely naked, his skin dirty with mud and wet with rain that poured down from the almost black sky. His body shivered with cold, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around himself, quickening his pace. He had to find something to wear and a place to shelter and keep warm.

He had no idea what time it was, but from the darkness he quickly judged that it must be late. He suspected it was probably the middle of the night. He ran quickly across the street and headed towards the sound of slightly muffled bass. It looked like someone was having a party, or there must have been a bar nearby. The rain seemed to decrease a bit, but there were still many puddles on the sidewalk. Without worrying about it, he ran into them with his bare feet, quickly moving forward.

With each passing moment, the music, which had previously only been distorted noise, grew stronger. He was already able to recognize the lyrics of the song and any instrument that was used in the background music. The sounds of voices screaming over the music, which were accompanied by loud laughter from time to time, also crept into his ears. Finally, he noticed that there were several young men in the backyard of one of the houses. There were four of them, maybe five. He could not see them clearly, for they stood hidden in the garage because of the rain. There were sounds of quite loud music coming from the car's speakers.

Without thinking for long, he ran across the street and entered the property. He could feel wet grass, stinging unpleasantly at his bare feet, but he had no intention of stopping. The chances of finding someone else at this time, especially in such weather, were almost miraculous. He approached the fence and tightened his fingers on it. He pulled himself up and jumped to the other side with one agile movement, thus attracting the attention of the men. Several of them laughed aloud at the sight of him, pointing their fingers at him.

"Hey, you! This is private property!" One of them exclaimed.

His tone was severe. Hard. Clearly agitated. As Jeongguk guessed, he probably owned the house.

"Dude, you must have lost your clothes somewhere!" Echoed the second, laughing out loud. He threw his head back, then staggered enough that he had to lean on the man standing to his right. "You saw him?!" He asked. "Haven't mummy taught you how to dress yourself?"

"Or maybe some chick threw him out?" added another, also laughing.

Jeongguk did not respond to their taunts. He just scanned their figures carefully, quickly assessing which of their clothes might be useful to him. He couldn't explain it, but as he stared at them, it felt as if his mind was scrutinizing their dimensions with almost exact precision. He thought he could hear their hearts beating, their breaths. As if his senses were more sensitive. Behind him, he heard a croak, and after a while he noticed a large black bird flying overhead. The crow sat on the roof of the garage across from him, just above the heads of the men. He studied it for a moment, fascinated.

"Get out of here!" Suddenly growled the tall, well-built man he took for the owner and started walking towards him.

Only hearing his voice did Jeongguk look again at the gathered men. Still silent, he strode toward them and, stopping only a step away from them, measured them carefully with his dark eyes again. From this distance, he could smell the distinct, acrid scent of alcohol.

"I'll get the jeans from you," he said suddenly, pointing to the pony tailed man to his right. "Your jacket," he said, pointing to one of the guys hiding in the back of the garage, then shifted his gaze to the owner of the house and measured him carefully from head to toe. "And I want shoes from you," he said, pointing to his black, heavy boots. "You all have shitty t-shirts," he added, curving his lips in a cheeky smile.

Hearing his words, all the gathered people began to look at each other, as if not believing what had just escaped from his mouth, and after a while they would laugh out loud, as if they had just heard the world's funniest joke.

"Very funny," sniffed the one in the ponytail, pointing his finger at him, clearly amused, then raised a bottle of soju to his lips and took a few more sips of alcohol. "I don't know what you were taking, dude, but you must have gone overboard."

"This is not a joke," Jeon replied, taking a step toward him. "You have body proportions similar to mine. Your jeans will fit me almost perfectly" he added in full seriousness.

The landlord walked the distance between them and, reaching out, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

"This is not a joke, dude!" He growled. "Get out before one of us helps you!"

Jeongguk looked at the man. He studied his face carefully, then shifted his gaze wordlessly to the hand that was gripping his shoulder painfully.

"I advise you to take your hand away if you don't want to lose it," he said in a low, confident voice as he returned to the man's dark eyes.

The other, however, clearly had no intention of giving up. His fingers just squeezed tighter, digging painfully into his skin. Jeongguk's jaw tightened at the sudden rush of anger. Adrenaline slowly began to bubble in his blood. He quickly reached out his right hand and gripped the man's wrist. He pulled his arm and in one efficient movement knocked him to the ground, pressing his body against the wet lawn.

As he held his arms firmly behind his back, trying to immobilize him, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the blond, who had been inside the garage, had leapt to his feet. There was something glistening in his hand, and it was enough to tell the other had a knife or pocket knife in his hand. He did not manage to straighten his figure, however, when suddenly someone lunged at his back and began to choke him, wrapping a strong arm around his neck.

Not knowing why, but a loud laugh escaped his lips. He felt a strange surge of strength within himself, and it seemed to him that his already sensitive senses were sharpening even more. He grabbed the arm wrapped around his neck and, leaning forward, slung his attacker over his shoulder. As he turned back, he saw three more men. A few seconds, however, was enough for a quick analysis of the surroundings and the weapons in their hands to appear in his head.

With a loud laugh, he moved quickly forward, jumped on a small wall, and, bouncing off it, climbed onto the roof of the garage, climbing it with the ease and agility of a wild cat. Before the others knew what had really happened and where he was, he jumped down again, reappearing right behind their backs. Two of them he cut with his right leg, knocking them off their feet, and the third one jumped on his back, deftly knocking him to the ground. He pressed him down hard with his arms, cutting off his oxygen supply, and when the other passed out, he pushed his body away from him and walked towards the last of the still standing men.

It was the blond man in whose hand he had noticed the knife earlier. So he bent his knees slightly and, balancing the weight of his body from one leg to the other, slowly approached him. The stranger looked focused. His eyes narrowed into thin lines and his lips pressed tightly together. He was holding the knife out at him as if he was about to swing it at him in a moment. They only watched each other for a while, and when the other finally lunged towards him, Jeongguk efficiently dodged the blow, making a quick dodge.

When he was focusing on an armed enemy, however, someone attacked him from behind, smashing an empty soju bottle on his head. He grimaced at the pain, and immediately felt hot blood trickling down his face, mingling with the remnants of the alcohol. Instinctively, he raised his hand and wiped the liquid from his cheek, then slipped his wet fingers into his mouth.

"Grapefruit flavored," he said. "My favorite."

These words, however, had not yet rolled from his lips, parted in a smile as his body, guided by some extraordinary force, made a backflip, in a second landing behind the man who attacked him. Jeongguk stunned him with a forceful blow to his temple, and when the man fell back to the ground. He quickly took off his black denim pants and slipped them on, then walked over to the previously stunned man and took his shoes from him, hastily slipping them over his feet. Once he was dressed from the waist down, he made his way again towards the last two attackers, who were now running towards him, knives in hand.

But he didn't care. He just went ahead. He jumped on the car that was in the garage and, bumping out of the hood on his right hand, kicked the knife out of the hand of one of the attackers, and he jumped on the other, knocking him over on the rain-wet lawn. They struggled for a moment. The other tried to swing the knife at him, and eventually the blade cut his hand one time. Blood spurted from the cut wound at once, and a loud moan escaped his lips. He pushed his opponent away with all his might, feeling the anger begin to rise again, running through his veins, fueling his body to go on. When he finally jumped to his feet, he raised his bloody hand and, ignoring the wound, simply brushed his wet hair back.

When he looked at the man again, he saw his pupils suddenly widen in fear, as if he had just seen a ghost. The stranger instinctively took a few steps back, lifting the bloodied knife in his hand as if to scare him away.

"What have you done?" He asked, clearly scared. "How did you do it?" He added, taking a few steps back again.

Jeongguk, not understanding his words, drew his eyebrows together and took a few steps towards him. The blond, whose jacket he wanted to take, also looked at him with the same horror on his face. Almost without saying a word, he hurriedly pulled the leather jacket off his shoulders and tossed it to him. Jeongguk caught it in the air.

"Take this, just don't hurt us..." the other gasped, making Jeon even more confused.

Just a moment ago, the same man was throwing a knife at him, and now he was giving him his clothes, almost begging for mercy. The face of the blond showed undisguised terror, and when he took another step towards him, he stepped back in panic to increase the distance between them again.

"Please," he whined.

Jeongguk looked around carefully, trying to understand what was actually going on. Some attackers were unconscious. Their bodies lay on the wet lawn, and the three, still conscious, almost crouched in front of him in terror. Suddenly a croak crept into his ears and the same big black bird appeared again. This time, the bird perched on the roof of the car that stood on his left. When he looked at it, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his reflection in the car window. Not believing his eyes, he took a step towards the car to get a closer look at what he saw.

His chest was still naked, wet with rain and dirty with mud here and there. Shoulder-length dark, almost jet black hair curled into delicate waves. They were wet too. A few wisps stuck to his handsome face, but what caught his attention was his face. His skin was oddly pale, almost white, as if he'd painted it with chalk or mime paint. The lids and eyes were covered with black shadow, and vertical lines of equally black ran through the center of each eye, stretching almost from the center of the forehead to the center of the cheeks. His lips were equally black, and there was a smile painted around his mouth that resembled that comic-book Joker smile he remembered from his childhood.

He had no idea how or where such makeup had appeared on his face. Instinctively, he raised his hand and ran it over his cheek, trying to wipe off the white paint, but he couldn't wipe off even a little. He wanted to do the same with his mouth. He ran a wet hand over his lips, trying to wipe the black shadow, but he couldn't, as if it wasn't makeup at all, but his real face.

He looked at the raven still sitting on the roof of the car. The bird didn't budge, even though the rain was still drizzling. He thought the bird was staring at him, and suddenly he felt a great pain in his temple, as if some force was tearing into his head. His lips parted involuntarily, letting an agonizing scream escape his lips. He closed his eyelids, squeezing them tight for a few short moments, and when he lifted them again...

He remembered everything.

With a quick gesture, he threw a leather jacket over his bare shoulders, which he had received a moment ago from a beaten blond. It lay perfectly on him. He raised his right hand, which had been bleeding heavily a moment ago, and looked closely at the wound inflicted by the knife blade. Seeing his skin slowly close together, he curled his lips into a slightly sneering smile. He ran his fingers through his dark, jet black hair and looked at the crow again. He nodded gently to it, and the raven, as if understanding his order, jumped up from its seat and sat on his shoulder.

Jeongguk turned back to the three terrified men and measured them carefully from head to toe, gently tilting his head to the side.

"I will also need your money," he said finally, breaking the silence.

All three of them pulled out their wallets without any protest and hastily started taking money out of them. The blond gathered them up and carefully extended his hand towards Jeongguk, handing him the bills.

"W-Who are you?" He choked out in a trembling voice, struggling to pronounce the words.

Jeongguk's black lips curved in a beautiful, broad smile.

"The crow," he replied, then took the money from him and, turning on his heel, started walking again.

He walked away with a quick, firm step, still with the big black bird perched on his right shoulder.

***

Ayashee:

We are finally officially starting a new adventure...

The first chapter is behind us, so I'm curious what you think about our main characters.

What are your impressions?

I would also like to present you a beautiful edit of our title Crow, which was made by _Miintra

xoxo