"I haven't come here to play your games. If you wanted to make friends, you shouldn't have killed four men."

Seonghwa snickered about Hongjoong as if he were making unreasonable demands. 

"We live in different worlds, Mister Kim. You would have understood if you took the time."

Hongjoong didn't care. Didn't linger in the cloying scent and the temptation leaning in the doorway. With a sharp jerk, he stuffed the letter into his pocket and grabbed his trilby off the chesterfield. Calculating eyes studied the widow in the door, but he made no move to attack Hongjoong. 

But the glimmer in his eyes was neither defeated nor admitted guilt. As if he watched a theatre he had nothing to do with playing out, he leaned in the door, at ease and gorgeous to the tips of his toes. 

When Hongjoong hesitated in the room, unsure if he needed a bean shooter to get past, Seonghwa chortled at his lack of confidence. In his eyes, Hongjoong must be a young lad, barely an adult; barking up trees far too tall and mighty for him to comprehend.

And Hongjoong didn't. He knew nothing about being on the chisel and dopers and all those awful crimes tied to them.

But he knew about his job. And Seonghwa's cloying seduction was the biggest evidence that he had something put over. Like a spider swaddling its prey in its web. Tighter and tighter, in an agonisingly slow death until sudden misfortune struck.

Seonghwa pushed off the door and grabbed for a long, elegant pipe resting on the commode next to him. The lighter he flicked open was heavy and decorated with ornate patterns. Soon, he breathed a white cloud in Hongjoong's direction.

"Run, little boy. See how far you get." Dark hair coiled lovingly around expensive pearls. Blood money.

Slowly inching towards the door, Hongjoong didn't let Seonghwa out of his eyes.

"Won't you stop me?" 

Those fingers cradled the pipe elegantly. Its pointed tip rested on Seonghwa's plush lip, dipping it. Hongjoong couldn't be distracted.

"I can't stop you from leaving. But be reminded what a shame this is. We would have got along with each other so well."

Befuddled, Hongjoong just glared at him. He had no power to retain Seonghwa on the spot, but the widow had nowhere to go. All eyes were on him and his pitiful act of mourning.

Not leaving him the time to rethink, Hongjoong stormed out of that place. The second he slammed the door shut behind him, he breathed the more or less fresh air of London. Reality bustled merrily. No heady scent or prickling danger cloyed it. As Hongjoong's head cleared, grim satisfaction followed.

Yunho had been right. Hongjoong found evidence which pointed at Seonghwa and, with a thorough search, they could apprehend the criminal. Splendid as he was, he was dangerous.

The last rays of the sun peered through London's grey chimneys. The skies blushed a charming hue of orange and pink that danced over grey clouds. Unexpected beauty blessed Hongjoong in its most natural form because everything about Seonghwa was wrong. Haunting. A beautiful facade covering a malevolent core. 

It was late. Yunho likely wouldn't be in the office anymore, but Hongjoong needed to try. 

He hoofed it down the street and away from the eyes prying from Seonghwa's home. That looming, old building echoed the wails of the people murdered inside. The next call box was two streets down and Hongjoong shouldered past the people meandering idly. The rain let up to a faint sizzle, but a wintry wind had them huddle into their tall collars. Hongjoong rushing through with flushed cheeks earned some glimpses, but no one found him queer.

After jamming a few pennies into the box, Hongjoong grabbed the blower off its hook and pressed it to his ear. He waited and waited, glancing through the small glass squares around him and scratching his fingernails over a nick in the metal frame.

"Come on, Yunho," he fretted. Seonghwa couldn't leave the country that quickly. But could he go into hiding somewhere? Or did he have a contact in the clubhouse that could shake off the investigation of a random newbie detective?

Yunho didn't pick up.

"Feck," Hongjoong cursed and flung the phone back down. He stepped outside and caught his breath.

There was nothing he could do. He should go home and write his report, so everything would be ready for the prosecution. If Seonghwa had even an hour more to spare, he might seduce another victim. 

Nervous from adrenaline and paranoia since Seonghwa knew Hongjoong was after him, the peeper hurried home. He took a shower and fell onto his chair right after to rest the jitter of his limbs. Since he couldn't find any sleep with that terror anyway, he might as well do his work. 

Every sound startled him during the night and by the time morning greyed the skies, Hongjoong's eyes itched in deep shadows. He stretched against throbbing shoulders and went to brush his teeth. Even if he arrived at the office early, Yunho wouldn't be there yet. 

While he cleaned away his grogginess, Hongjoong gathered his belongings to put into his bag and picked out a clean outfit. Just as he spat out his toothpaste and washed his face, a fist hammered against his door.

Hongjoong's heart jumped into his throat.

Who was it? Had Seonghwa sent a button man after him? He had the cabbage and the connections to any shady speakeasy to hire someone. A bat of his lashes, the jingle of coins.

Caught as if he were a criminal, Hongjoong hovered in his bathroom. He didn't dare breathe, hoping it was just his landlord and he would carry on.

But the hammering sounded again. 

"This is the police. Open the door!"

Police?

Caught in confusion and relief, Hongjoong lunged for the handle. The door clicked, and he stared up at Wooyoung Jung and his tall second-in-command, Mingi Song, the leading figure of their local police force. Their faces donned matching scowls.

Hongjoong sighed in relief.

"It's so good that you're here. I have a trace, I-"

"Hongjoong Kim, you are under arrest for the murder of Seonghwa Park." With a sharp jerk, Wooyoung twisted Hongjoong's hand and whirled him around. A sharp cry sounded when Hongjoong fell to his knees, momentarily disoriented. His arm was pinned to his back and more coppers stormed into his little bedsit.

"W-What? No, he is the murderer, I-"

"You were last seen leaving his residence before neighbours found a mutilated corpse behind the open front door," Mingi recited while the shackles snapped shut around Hongjoong's wrists. So frazzled, Hongjoong didn't fight back. What was going on? Was this their secret ploy to get him away from Seonghwa's eyes?

Somehow, the anger in Wooyoung's eyes, the disappointment, made his stomach sink. 

They were colleagues, no? Wooyoung knew Hongjoong. Knew he worked for their side.

"That's wrong," Hongjoong gasped, but he was hauled from his gaff while the two other officers rushed around to gather his belongings and frisk him for evidence.

"That wasn't me! I last saw Park alive!"

Did he die overnight? Did someone else take their revenge and Hongjoong accidentally became the chinch?

The coppers dragged him outside to their car. Wooyoung hauled Hongjoong despite his resistance.

"Stop fighting. It's too late for you. We have a handkerchief with your initials on it specked with the blood of the victim. The cutter already confirmed the traces of your hair."

Hongjoong's mouth dropped open.

Impossible. His handkerchief...

Wooyoung shoved him into the car with a hand on his melon. As soon as Hongjoong sat, the door slammed shut.

He didn't understand. Seonghwa wore the handkerchief on his body when he had been killed?

No, was he even dead? Did he fake this to have his revenge and silence Hongjoong?

So upset, Hongjoong was nudged aside when the other two officers gathered inside. The police can rolled onto the stony curb to bring Hongjoong to justice for a crime he didn't commit.

As they passed the street corner, a person in black cradled a travelling suitcase on the sidewalk. Their features were shadowed by their black lacey umbrella, but Hongjoong caught a swipe of red lips twisted into a wicked grin before the car rushed past.

Ending 4/7