No, Hongjoong needed to focus. He shouldn't garner the wrong type of attention or make himself look suspicious by acting slick. Gathered, he leaned back in his seat.

London's typical rain drizzled over the windows while the taxi driver took Hongjoong 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.

Gathered fingers patted over his shirt and jacket, feeling for his pen and paper. He hoped he looked good, otherwise he couldn't convince the masquerade of his identity before the sharp widow. Steady with the notepad in his pocket, Hongjoong scurried over the veranda. His fingers pressed the doorbell, and he peered out over the gardens 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 pursed his lips when he got a slant at him.

While he adhered to his manners and strict professionalism, Park was set on seduction.

The dress the man donned was long enough to reach to his ankles peeking from velvety black pumps. The black fabric was velvety and glittered as if with stars, tight around his hips and flaring towards his feet. A row of pearls closed its side to leave a slit from his knee down and the airy white tulle covering his neckline and off-shoulder complimented the flat of his chest. The dress was held up only by two thin black strings over his shoulders that could be opened with the tug of a finger. A matching black choker hugged the base of his neck and was dotted with more pearls.

Park was without a hat tonight, and his dark locks charmingly framed his features to reach to his shoulders. Two black bows tucked into the artful braid of his upper hair and wound a dangling chain of pearls around the back of his head. A softer pink stained his lips today, and they tugged into a tempting smile when he recognised Hongjoong.

"Ah, Mister Kim. I expected you." Today's satin gloves tucked only to his wrist and their rims curled around a singular pearl embedded in a bow. A ring twinkled on his fourth finger.

Hongjoong wondered if there was anyone more beautiful than this. They had a good 16-year age difference, but Hongjoong blushed as if he met his school crush. How was he supposed to concentrate around his beauty and his expensive garbs his late husbands gifted him?

"Come on in," Park invited and Hongjoong tripped 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 pearl earrings shine, Hongjoong fumbled his way in. Upon passing Park, a sweet mist of scents addled Hongjoong's mind. Park wore feminine perfume heavy with vanilla and cinnamon and Hongjoong could barely think.

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 shook in a giggle.

Hongjoong shook off the spell. He needed to concentrate.

"How are you doing, Mister Park?" He asked and eyeballed Seonghwa's expression with cautious scrutiny. Though his beauty was distracting, Hongjoong needed to find proof today, otherwise Yunho would throw him out.

Elegant steps guided Hongjoong through the spacious foyer towards the sitting room. It charmingly matched in dark greens and browns with a gold-rimmed chesterfield and expensive artworks of flowers gracing the corners. Seonghwa cultivated some plants inside and the pianoforte in the corner meant either he or his late spouse had an interest in music.

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.

The desk under the window was filled with neatly sorted letters.

Hongjoong took off his lid to sit and Seonghwa beckoned him to the tea service prepared on the small table between them. His elegant pins crossed to the side.

"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 cautiously placed them before him. Refined fingers offered him the baked goods.

"How can such a doozy be cursed?" With pricked ears, Hongjoong watched Seonghwa blow on his tea. The posture of his gloved fingers was impeccable around the cup.

"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. 

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

Following right up on the opportunity, Hongjoong guised his prying by stirring some sugar into his tea.

"I doubt the spirituality of things in our scientific century, but there might be something more medical at bay. Pardon the intrusive question, but you don't happen to carry any genetic diseases? They might cause a sneaking death."

Seonghwa's chuckle remained graceful.

"You wouldn't insinuate their losses are my fault?" Though his serene patience tugged a mysterious smile onto his lips, an icy shudder crawled down Hongjoong's spine.

Most likely, he was alone in the house of a murderer. The place of a past victim. A darb as Seonghwa might be, he hid a sinister secret. Hongjoong shouldn't challenge his luck.

"Of course not," Hongjoong assured. "I am calling the sickness the culprit. It might reap you of your joy without you noticing."

"It may be a fortune their cause of death is natural age. But how could I not keep falling in love with lovely people?" Seonghwa wistfully glanced at the ceiling and its lavish chandelier. He blinked his eyes and Hongjoong made another mental note.

"Unfortunately, medicine hasn't come so far yet to elongate our lives. If I could save them from this early demise, I would."

Hongjoong didn't give away the information San granted him, though he could tell Seonghwa pried back at him. Did he have a hunch?

"Is it their old age that attracts you? What about it do you cherish, when you yourself are so young and beautiful?" Hongjoong carefully felt his way ahead. The smile Seonghwa threw him appreciated the compliment. Still, his scent and pan were befuddling. 

"Certainly, their magnetism comes from their experience in life and their wisdom. But that doesn't mean I love them less for some aged flesh. Aren't there so many more things to appreciate?"

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 still hiding something.

"Like money?" Hongjoong pried harder, feeling a headache originating from the artificial scent of vanilla. He wanted Seonghwa to speak clearly and if he was innocent, that should be no problem.

But a tasteful snicker stifled behind a gloved hand.

"Your adolescence is showing, Mister Kim. At a certain point in time, money plays no such role."

"Then is it power?" Invested, Hongjoong leaned forward. The twinkle in Seonghwa's eyes was ribbing him. Hongjoong had all his answers already, but he had no evidence. And Seonghwa knew he was clear of all crimes.

A sharp smile replied.

"You tell me. Does our relationship grant you power? Or is it my power you seek? Didn't you approach me for a polite exchange, yet you sit here alone in a widowed person's home?" 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 again, it made his mind stutter. His collected mental notes scattered around his brain.

"You are beautiful," Hongjoong admitted, unabashed about the truth. "But anyone would start to wonder at four husbands dead."

The thoughts spun behind Seonghwa's eyes. Perhaps he thought Hongjoong spied on him for his boss as a means to access relevant business information. Perhaps this was just his type of game. But the dangerous beauty lurking in that gaze was all-consuming, like a void.

"Then you must seek something else than power. Let's start anew, Mister Kim. If you have reason to doubt me, let my hospitality show you my innermost heart." Gentle fingers squeezed over Hongjoong's, distracting his purpose. Ticked off, Hongjoong closed his eyes against the strain in his brow. His head hurt.

"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.

"I am honest in my worry for you, but your secrets must remain yours," Hongjoong dodged off. They danced around each other like two butterflies in summer, innocent and feeble-minded. But the gaze in Seonghwa's eyes wasn't so simple.

"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?"

This was his game. His challenge for Hongjoong. He had been picked as a worthy opponent, and Seonghwa was curious about his purpose. 

Drinking with him was risky. Hongjoong might forget his job and his secrecy, and he might fall to Seonghwa's spell.

But the tiniest part in Hongjoong hoped it would get Seonghwa drunk. If the detective drank sparingly, he might get the answers he needed. Just one piece of evidence of Seonghwa's potential crimes. He had never been so vulnerable to be investigated and Hongjoong sat at the source of all knowledge. 

Choose now:

Accept the wine: Go to chapter 14

Decline the wine: Go to chapter 15