No. If Hongjoong wanted any chance to gain solid evidence whatsoever, he couldn't expose himself. 

He sunk back into his seat and pondered what Park might do in a joint like this. Surely, he didn't go there to dip the bills, refined as he was. Was he meeting someone or was he involved in other crimes? Did he pay someone to do the murders for him?

Grim, Hongjoong took a few notes on the drive to the late Albert May's estate which Seonghwa still lived in. 

When he arrived, he dashed through the light drizzle right to the veranda. A housemaid opened when he rang the bell, and she demurely nodded her head at him. 

"Please wait in the sitting room for the mistress to arrive."

After shrugging off his coat, Hongjoong left it to the maid to hang it as he ankled into the estate. He noted the dark green walls and expensive black furniture. A piano hovered in the corner beneath a picture of the deceased. A swanky luxury clung to the gold-lined lamps and decorations, but it wasn't excessive.

Did Park fulfil the role of a proper housewife in these walls? Was that why the personnel referred to him as such?

Hongjoong sunk into a diwan and contemplated the tea and rolls set out before him. The baked goods must be a home recipe and though their scent was heavenly, he hesitated to try one. Before Park wasn't here to unveil his intentions, he wasn't touching anything.

He didn't have to wait for long. Just as he got up to stroll among the shelves lined with books to make some guesses about Park's readings, the roar of an engine halted outside. Steps climbed the veranda and the thundering click of heels announced Park's arrival.

"Shall Alistair park the car, Ma'am?" The maid asked demurely as Seonghwa shrugged his fur-lined black coat off.

"No need, love. Has Mister Kim arrived?"

Hongjoong strolled over to the door. Before the maid had to reply, he appeared in Park's field of vision.

"I am here," he announced and a graceful smile came as his reply. Park came over and Hongjoong dipped to kiss his gloved hand in courtesy. Today's dress was red, paired with black stockings and a pearl necklace. Long sleeves hugged his hands, and he tugged off his gloves to leave his matching painted fingernails bare. The dress reached over his knee and hugged his frame, leaving little to the imagination.

A scent of jasmine surrounded him. It was thick and cloying, mixed with other sweet and inviting notes. It had Hongjoong scrunch his nose.

"Wonderful, then let us sit. You may call me Seonghwa. I had been curious about your visit."

Hongjoong sat with the tempting widow and watched him pour some tea and try the cookies. Only then, Hongjoong dared reach for them.

"You have?"

"Oh, of course. Mister Jeong told me so much about you."

Hongjoong came up short.

There was no Mister Jeong. His Yunho wasn't the same person Seonghwa might have met. If he ever met someone. 

Hongjoong tried to shake off the chill creeping up his spine. Inconspicuous to the cold eyes boring into his soul, he sipped his tea.

"Yes? Hopefully only good things," he chatted and Seonghwa crossed his gams, invested in this gambit.

"Well, he told me you are writing a novel about a series of killings and have been inspired by my character. Quite tactless, I must add, but I am flattered."

Hongjoong had no other choice but to play with the cards Seonghwa dealt him. The widow already knew his identity was wrong. Now Hongjoong needed to mask his real one.

"Such is the mind of an author, as you surely imagine. You must forgive me."

"Oh, but of course," Seonghwa purred. He beckoned for his maid and she dashed into the kitchen on quiet feet. Wary of the lion's den morphing around him, Hongjoong took out his notepad.

"Then do you mind if I ask you some questions? Nothing too personal, of course, just enough to piece together my plot."

Invested in his act, Seonghwa supported his chin in his palm. The twinkle in his eyes would play along for as long as he was entertained. 

But once he wasn't...

Not leaving him time to get bored, Hongjoong acted on instinct. He learned from the newshounds accompanying them for their cases during training. They needed every detail to wax their poetry.

"The novel plays in our time when a series of murders rouses the interest of the police," Hongjoong began, supplying Seonghwa with the answers he sought. Creating a lure for mutual trust.

Seonghwa liked to play with fire. 

"Is the main villain a beautiful dame like me?" Red fingernails pressed into his pale skin as he pretended to ponder.

"Not nearly as gorgeous," Hongjoong replied. His heart stayed cold at Seonghwa's pleased smile. The widow leaned back in his seat.

"Go on," he suggested and Hongjoong's pen scrawled along. His mind raced with the danger he was in, his concentration to do this right. 

"I'll write it from the perspective of a young police officer who is eager for his job but also an easy victim to the lovely vamp," he continued. Admitted his eye for the older beauty of the widow. 

Flattered, Seonghwa bit at his fingertip. His scent filled the room, numbed Hongjoong's nose.

"And how does he try to uncover her misdeeds?"

"He approaches her in a bar and introduces himself as another." Seonghwa already knew who he was. Checked his identity, his background. With all those connections in the underworld, it was easy to tell the law from others.

That's why he had met with some shady cookies before coming here.

"Perhaps some flirtations can bring them closer? A game of cat and mouse where each thinks they are the winning party." Hongjoong pretended to get stuck there, pressing his pen against his lower lip. 

Charmed with direct honesty, Seonghwa offered the same back. A frightening cunning carried in his every word. He was so confident in himself Hongjoong had to wonder if there was any evidence left for him to find.

"Now what if the beautiful killer offers the detective a bottle of wine whose contents are drugged? She could show him all her secrets if he entered her world and ascertained his trust. But what might happen if he refused?"

The maid hustled from the kitchens. She carried a tall bottle of red wine and a single glass and placed them in front of Hongjoong. As she ducked away politely, Seonghwa's eyes trapped Hongjoong in his position.

The detective lingered behind the eight ball.

Chills ran down his spine. When Seonghwa uncorked the bottle to pour him the red liquor, Hongjoong muttered on instinct.

"Since she is a killer and knows of his identity, she might bump him if he refuses."

Seonghwa put the bottle down and offered the glass to Hongjoong. His smirk was sly like that of a snake.

"I think the same."

Choose now:

Accept the drink - > Go to chapter 21

Refuse the drink -> Go to chapter 18