Hongjoong went for the flowers.

"Can you stop here for a moment?" He asked his driver, and the automobile pulled to the curb with a splutter. The second Hongjoong hopped out, an icy breeze whirled under his coat and collar. He shuddered, burying between his shoulders. Still no snow, despite late December boasting on the calendar. London was grey and the sidewalk slippery when Hongjoong flailed his way into the flower shop. Its warmth greeted him and the owner perked up behind his desk.

"I want to gift someone flowers who recently lost someone," Hongjoong explained through the red of his cheeks from the abrupt temperature change. "Something that lauds them yet isn't too direct of a compliment." Though his explanation fumbled and barely veiled his hidden intentions, the teller turned with a fine smile.

"I have something for you."

He plucked at a yellow bush, cradling three of the many-blossomed stalks into a bunch. He smoothed out their adorable little petals and offered them to Hongjoong.

"The solidago represents strength in a period of mourning and wishes a speedy recovery. Yet it also compliments the courage of the remaining associate. A flower for a stead-fast person."

Though Hongjoong didn't know the first thing about flowers, he nodded eagerly. He was glad it could be so simple and though yellow wasn't a colour he associated with Park, its meaning carried Hongjoong's fumbling thoughts.

"Perfect, I'll take it," Hongjoong beamed, and the florist bound it with a lovely ribbon before he handed it over. Delighted, Hongjoong paid and huddled back into his hack. His hands shyly cradled the gift while the driver took him to the estate of the late Albert May. He had worked as an executive at a major bank in London, so he owned an upscale mansion on the outskirts of town, where one glitzy villa perched to the next. As soon as Hongjoong hopped out to make his way through the well-kept gardens whose evergreens were splendid even in winter, the taxi zoomed off.

Nervous fingers patted over his shirt and jacket. He hoped he looked good, otherwise he couldn't convince Park by charm alone. Steady with the notepad in his pocket, Hongjoong scurried over the veranda. His fingers pressed the doorbell, and he waited nervously until someone picked him up.

When the door swung open, Park himself appeared. No maids tended to the estate, or perhaps he had sent them off to mourn in peace. Hongjoong's mouth ran dry when he got a slant at him.

Park donned a long dress of a silky fabric. Its black glittered in the evening sun and left his shoulders and collarbone bare. A white fur stole slung around his upper arms to unveil the charming black choker that spilt twinkling gems over his skin.

He was without a hat tonight, and his dark locks charmingly framed his features to curl around his ears. The same red stained his lips, and they tugged into an alluring smile when he recognised Hongjoong.

"Ah, Mister Kim. I expected you." He wore long gloves today that reached over his elbow. A ring twinkled on his fourth finger when his hands wrapped around the stole.

Hongjoong wondered if there was anyone more beautiful than this. They had a respectable 16-year age gap, but Hongjoong's nape heated as if he met his school crush.

"Come on in," Park invited and Hongjoong stumbled as if he were a drunk swab about to crash his ship on the reef of a mermaid. So hypnotised by the warm lights of the building, which made Park's dangling earrings shine, Hongjoong fumbled his way in.

Park closed the door behind him and granted him a graceful smile. Feeling helpless and far too young to deal with someone of his calibre without the shadow of grief, Hongjoong opened his mouth and closed it.

Delicate shoulders rocked in a giggle.

"Are those for me?" the widow asked with an elegant hand on Hongjoong's arm, holding the flowers. Something inside the detective snapped and his words flowed over.

"Oh, certainly! Please take them, Mister Park. Thank you for your invitation," Hongjoong babbled. To Park, he would be no more but a green gee who gained the unexpected favour of a work associate's widowed spouse. Though Hongjoong couldn't think and his eyes caressed the slope of Park's nose and the twinkle of his eyes that seemed to hold a million secrets, he needed to concentrate on his job.

Proving Park was innocent.

"You shouldn't have. These are lovely. Call me Seonghwa, hm? We are acquainted now." A gloved hand tickled under Hongjoong's chin before Seonghwa lifted the flowers from his clammy fingers. He was already taller than Hongjoong, but he wore heels that made the keyhole peeper feel like a garden gnome next to the gorgeous fountain statue of a Greek goddess.

"'m Hongjoong," Hongjoong stuttered as he followed Seonghwa's elegant pace through the lofty foyer. They entered a sitting room held in dark greens and browns with a gold-buttoned chesterfield and expensive artworks, and Seonghwa stepped into the kitchen with the click of his heels on the polished tiles.

"Sit down first," he called when Hongjoong stood idle, though snacks and tea were already prepared between the couches. Hastily, he took off his lid and sunk into the first spot he saw.

Seonghwa hummed as he rustled through the cabinets for a vase. The back of his dress was free, only held by a few crossing black strings. Hongjoong's eyes traced the curve of his spine and he had to dig his fingers into his thighs to snap out of it. Without the thick coat, Seonghwa's curves were even more delicate.

No wonder he adored wearing dresses. They suited him so well.

Was he just a beautiful person whom everyone desired? Hongjoong understood those old eggs more and more since meeting Seonghwa.

Seonghwa left the vase with the flowers on a commode and cradled his fur around him to sink onto the divan opposite Hongjoong. Elegant legs crossed when he leaned in to pour their tea.

"How are you feeling?" Hongjoong asked lamely. So much for flirting his way to the truth.

"Better," Seonghwa offered with a serene smile. "I connected with family and friends and am trying to gravitate to the beauties in life. I am cursed, you see." He handed Hongjoong a cup and its plate and Hongjoong almost spilled when he placed them before him. Refined fingers offered him the baked goods.

"How can such a doozy be cursed?" Hongjoong asked, almost too naturally, for knowing this piece of information already. Perhaps he was losing his mind. Seonghwa's scent of vanilla and cinnamon fogged up his mind, but nothing odd lay in the air. Just this lonesome beauty in the big, ornate mansion.

"This isn't the first love I lost. Their age forbids these lovely souls from sharing a long time with me, but all are reaped of me so quickly. Everything I touch dies." Depressed, Seonghwa took a cookie and bit off a polite small bite. Hongjoong tried to register this information and not just the draw of a velvety voice.

When Hongjoong lamely stayed still, Seonghwa threw him a grin. It crooked one corner of his lips and made those fathomless eyes shine.

"Thank you, though, for the compliment." Dark hair fell into his eyes when he bent to sip the tea and Hongjoong was no lothario, had zero experience of seducing someone, but he so desperately wanted to push that strand back, so he could marvel at those attractive features in peace. The thread of his choker was woven with a lot of effort and contrasted with the spread of his bare collar.

"My dearest Albert... Such a tragic accident. And at such an unfortunate time, too," Seonghwa sighed. "We had been planning to live in Nafplio for a year to relish the prolonged honeymoon he never had. He promised on the night we consummated our marriage."

Seonghwa wistfully glanced at the ceiling and its dangling chandelier. By his side, Hongjoong cast his furious blush in the other direction. So much to San's theory.

Hongjoong changed the topic before too much pain would disturb the widow or his heart would give out on him for the images Seonghwa painted..

"So, you are alone now? In this big mansion?"

The estate suited him with its Victorian glamour and the artwork along the patterned walls, but it was desolate in its size. No pets or children brought life to the gloomy corridors. Even the sun was shy of peering into the darkened corners.

"I couldn't leave this place yet. Albert handed it down to me, but I felt the spirit of our love linger. I shall relish it for a while longer."

"Mister Jeong never told me what happened. Only to stand in. I hope his condolences reached you," Hongjoong veiled his prying in a question. Seonghwa nodded. The desk under the window was filled with neatly sorted letters.

"I read about it, yes. How untoward of a burden to carry for your superior."

Seonghwa's words were witty and difficult to grasp. It might be his scent that drove Hongjoong crazy, but his detective senses tingled. Either Seonghwa didn't want to talk because of his grief, or he was hiding something.

"I am relieved you didn't need to be alone that day," Hongjoong muttered into his cup. Seonghwa's smile warmed the peeper's cheeks and his cup trembled in his grip.

"I hope my humble servitude may pay back your ongoing empathy. Or would you like me to put in a word with your superior?" Seonghwa's hand dropped onto the small table nonchalantly and his slender fingers settled on top of Hongjoong's. Through the fabric separating them, Hongjoong felt his heat, and it made his mind stutter.

When he froze in surprise, Seonghwa tilted his head.

"I can be very convincing." Red lips pulled back over pearly teeth. Hongjoong was utterly under his spell. Wherever he looked, there was something to ogle and blush about.

"N-No, that's not necessary," he stuttered. His fingers twitched under Seonghwa's, and his free hand wiped over his pants. Languid eyes followed the movement.

"Then how about this? I recently purchased an expensive bottle of Italian wine to give my honey for Christmas. Since I cannot share it with him, it sits forgotten on the shelf now, gathering dust. Would you like to have a glass?"

Hongjoong couldn't think. The scent around him cloyed him and he wanted to fall into that man and fulfil his every wish. His honey? Hongjoong also wanted to be his honey. Wanted the widow to be so loyal and dear to him, even after death.

He shouldn't drink the wine meant for a deceased husband with his widowed spouse. That meant misfortune.

But the tiniest part in Hongjoong hoped it would get Seonghwa talking. If he drank sparingly, he might get the answers he needed. Just one piece of assurance of Seonghwa's innocence.

Choose now:

Accept the wine -> go to chapter 12

Decline the wine -> go to chapter 13