Namjoon wasn’t sure what it was, but he found a sadistic satisfaction in watching the man swing from side to side by the noose tying his feet to the ceiling, the gag on his mouth muffling his struggles. He had never interrogated a criminal upside down like this before, but it’s never too late to try something new, right? Having yet to explore this side of himself, this dark and turbulent persona, he couldn’t quite place what about this man had hooked into that deep, uncharted part of his soul to summon it. Maybe it was the unfaltering smirk that seemed permanently imprinted on his scarred features. Or perhaps it was the bleeding wound present on Namjoon’s left ribs, courtesy of this man, and the way it was staining his hands, his clothes. 

Or, by some small sliver of chance, it could be that girl. 

Namjoon allowed an irritated sigh to escape his tightly pursed lips, casting a peek at the figure curled in the corner of his couch, her thin frame quivering subtly yet uncontrollably. Not entirely sure how to react, for he had never invited someone in his headquarters before, he simply returned his attention to the dangling culprit presented before him. He mused silently at what could have softened his heart to bring this girl, this stranger, back to his own disclosed hideaway. 

“. Ugh…” Namjoon groaned, pressing his palm to his side, where the wound had transformed into a gruesome mixture of flesh and blood. The criminal crouching in the corner smiled slyly. Namjoon glared heatedly at the short man, hate and anger bubbling and forcing his blood to boil in his veins. “You son of a .”

“You are here to kidnap me too, huh? What did they say your name was? Oh yeah, R. M.” He rolled the letters of Namjoon’s street name lazily on the tip of his tongue, a challenging grin materializing across his hooded face. “So you’re that little bastard that captures us and kills us off one by one. You think you’re doing a good deed, don’t you, murdering and getting rid of criminals like myself? Let me tell you this, my friend, you are just as disgusting as the rest of us.” 

The last sentence hit home, striking a nerve in Namjoon that no one has managed to reach. The man’s slurred words made him pause shortly, as if questioning his own conscience, before extending his arm to smack his fist against the man’s temples. The criminal slumped forward limply against the impact. 

Namjoon unceremoniously hauled the unconscious body to the car he had hijacked in order to come into the dark alley where he had seen the criminal on the security camera footage. He flung the man into the trunk with a thud, and quickly shut the lid. As he strode around the shiny car body to the driver’s side, a whimper reached his ear from somewhere behind him, soft with fear.  Namjoon turned around sharply to examine the young woman, looking somewhere around his own age, sprawled across the filthy floors, the criminal’s intended victim. 

“Leave.” he commanded coldly, his voice concealing all signs of mercy and sympathy. 

She stood up slowly, legs trembling as if they were going to give out under her weight any second.“I don’t have anywhere to go...”

“Go home! Don’t you have family or something?”

The girl nodded her head in the direction of Namjoon’s car, at the criminal sealed within the closed trunk. “He killed them all.”

Namjoon froze, unsure of what to say or how to react to the new information. Never in his five years of capturing criminals had he witnessed them victimize another, yet this girl was doing a brilliant job of stirring up the empathy in him that he didn’t know he had. 

“Get in.” Namjoon finally sighed, lowering his head to stare at the floor beneath his feet. The girl looked hesitant at first, shifting her center of gravity from foot to foot undecidedly, but upon realizing that she had no better choice for otherwise she would freeze to death in the winter night, she shuffled to the opened car door and stepped in, pulling the door closed behind her. 

And that’s how she ended up in his headquarters, unaware that no other breathing creature had entered before safe for Namjoon’s hostages. She also didn’t know that she would eventually make her way into another cold and desolate place, somewhere that has been uninhabited for the past five years, somewhere deep within Namjoon he made sure to keep everybody out of. 

Namjoon eyed the criminal in the back of the room, the man’s face now turning a violent shade of crimson from the rush of blood to his head, cheeks as hard as unripe plums. He twisted his body in his tied position, unsuccessfully attempting to free himself, only to become more miserable as he soon grew dizzy. Namjoon let his boredom with this man show, depicting it clearly on his face. Deciding that he had better get on with the interrogation if he wanted to force useful information out of this man before he passed out, he extracted a switchblade from the pockets of his coat, flipping the knife out and turning the weapon teasingly between his fingers. The glint of the blade against the dim fluorescent light bulbs in the room caused the criminal to thrasher harder, and Namjoon used the weapon to slice the gag off of the man’s mouth. 

“I’m just going to get straight to the point here. When did you get your tattoo? And that limp?”

The man spat at Namjoon’s boots, and the alarming tip of the switchblade was immediately placed at the pulsing vein located at his throat. Seeing this, he surprisingly chuckled.

“Oh boy, aren’t you excited? Alright, alright, I have no defense against you, so I’ll just tell you the truth. I received this tattoo as a matching birthday present with my twin brother, who is also an infamous figure in this city.” He swallowed slowly, then eyed Namjoon, trying to penetrate the boy’s blank facade for some hints at his thoughts. “That was six years ago, before that ing bastard returned home drunk one night and shot my girlfriend. It costed him his leg because I ripped it right outta its socket, and it’s never been the same since then. He, being the son of that he is, shot me in the leg too. I guess that’s two brother bonding things we share on our body.” The man snorted sarcastically right before breaking into a series of forcible coughs from his upside down orientation. 

“You have a brother?” This was news to Namjoon, and he perked his ears in hopes of hearing useful information. “So he has the tattoo and the limp also?”

“I guess so.”

Blood roared in his ears, and Namjoon shook his head sharply to stop himself from being distracted from the interrogation. “Stop with the sentiment! Let me ask you this, have you ever kidnapped and murdered a girl named Haejin?”

The man’s face warped from ignorance to a sick amusement, and his bloodshot eyes shot to Namjoon’s face at the sound of her name.

“Oh, boy…” His grin spread wider.

“What do you know?” Namjoon demanded, applying just the appropriate amount pressure for a vibrant red line to appear on the criminal’s skin. 

“God, I would never forget that name in a million years. My brother would whisper her name in his sleep, night after night. He would tell me of all the ways he tormented that little sweet thing, and how she looked as she died.”

Bile rose to Namjoon’s esophagus, followed by a burning sensation, as he realized that he had not found the right man, but he had captured his brother. 

He shoved his free hand into his jeans’ pocket, the other unmoving with the blade in his grip, and fished out his cell phone. “I want you to put him on the line.”

“You think it’s gonna be that easy, boy? Gotta try harder than that.”

Namjoon felt his blood pressure elevate, and the vein in his forehead bulged with fury. Searching the dirt floors of his headquarters, he reached down to retrieve an severed piece of rope. The sound of the thick material coming in contact against skin made a sickening cacophony and echoed audibly around the room. The man howled in agony as a red welt formed where the makeshift whip has landed.

“I will not ask you again.” Namjoon spit out fiercely. “Put that ing bastard on the phone!”

The criminal gurgled out a series of numbers, which Namjoon obediently inserted into the glowing screen of his device, and soon enough, the automated ring was the only thing cutting through the tense silence. 

“Hello?” A deep voice rasped, and the man yelped, causing the rope which connected his feet to the ceiling to tremble. 

“It’s me. I’m in trouble and —”

“Listen, you son of a ,” Namjoon seized the phone from hearing distance of the hanging criminal, “I have your brother. And you will need to meet up with me if you want him back in one piece.”

“Who the are you?”

“Someone who has some unfinished business to deal with you.”

The criminal cried out, despite of his restrictions, “Come save me! He wants to know about Haejin. I’m at his headquarters.” And before Namjoon could stop him, the man had blurted out his address. He was exposed. 

He disconnected the call abruptly, ridiculed by what had just occurred. “You just gave away my location.” he growled. 

Remembering the switchblade he still controlled in his hand, Namjoon flicked his wrist. A nauseating sound of the metal slicing smoothly through sinew boomeranged off the walls, and blood sprayed onto his shirt in a undecipherable pattern. Then the room fell into stillness.

A stifled sob shattered the heavy silence, and Namjoon turned his gaze to meet two rounded eyes staring straight back at him in uncontaminated terror. The girl had been watching the whole entire time. 

Too weary to be concerned by her, Namjoon torn his attention away as he peeled off his soiled clothes for a change of clean ones, and bandaging the wound on his side. He continued by going through his usual routine to get rid of the criminal’s body outside, and returned into the poorly lit room reeking of blood, smoke, and apathy. He shuffled over to the bag of fast food sitting on a dusty file cabinet that he had grabbed on the way back from the alley, and the aroma of warm food lured him to open the greasy paper packaging. Removing the wrapper on the burger he now held in his hand, he suddenly paused while in the process of bringing the food into his mouth. He glanced at the girl again, who was still steadily watching him, the panic in her eyes failing to fade away. 

Walking over to the couch on which she was balled up, he couldn’t help but feel a little offended (and...hurt?) when she shrunk her body away from his approaching figure in alarm. “You want some food?”

She pursed her lips tight and remained quiet, refusing to give him a reply. 

“No? Okay, suit yourself. You might want to know that I have nothing else to offer you, so if you choose to starve, be my guest.”

The girl studied Namjoon’s face intently, but simply turned her head away. Assuming that he had no other methods to change her mind, he resorted to finishing his meal alone. Afterwards, he stood up and stretched, fatigue coursing through his body and weighing his eyelids down. Making a small space on the floor, he allowed himself to drift off into a dreamless slumber, his female guest completely forgotten. 

Namjoon woke up to a high pitched scream traveling into the headquarters from outside, then a loud rustling noise. Scrambling to rid his body of sleep, he quickly rose from his lying position on the floor. He stumbled to the narrow trapdoor, guided by the 3:00 PM moonlight, and climbed outside into the night. Observing his surroundings, he immediately noticed something was off. The pitfall set up in front of his entrance was exposed, the deep hole in the ground black against the sea violet lavender fields. Tracing his mind back, he pieced the puzzle together as the realization struck him that he didn’t see the girl on the way out.

“.”

Hastily making his way to the trap he had created to keep intruders out, he saw a pair white knuckles desperately hanging on to the edge of the hole, and the dozen threatening blades Namjoon had placed at the bottom of the trap glistening under the moonlight. The girl peered up at him with wide, frightened eyes, her thin arms shaking with her weight. 

“Help me.”

Namjoon rapidly stretched his arm out towards the girl, who gratefully held on to it. He pulled her out of the pitfall laboriously, wincing as he felt the recent wound on his ribcage rip open again. The girl, once away from deep hole, sat shakily on the floor to stare at him as he doubled over in pain. 

He soon recollected himself, trying his best to ignore the spreading fire at his side, and stepped towards the girl. “Are you okay? Why did you try to run away? You could’ve died.”

The girl crawled away from him, movements gradually gaining speed. Tears streamed down her dirt streaked cheeks as she increased the distance between them, and she continued backing up. Namjoon watched as she approached the headstone, unaware of it herself, and then crash into it with a loud thump. He watched as her face twisted in horror once she discovered what the obstacle that had prevented her escape was, studying the large letters embedded in the marble. 

“Is this...a grave...?” She began to tremble uncontrollably, and her arms which were supporting her body collapsed under her. Namjoon strode to her side hurriedly, and what he did next he didn’t even predict himself.

 He knelt down in order to be level with the girl and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her securely her quivering frame like a fortress. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” he whispered, and hesitantly brought his fingers to her head, the soft locks of dark hair as tears soaked his shirt. He didn’t know if he was actually effectively comforting her until she leaned into his touch, and her sobs had diminished into light sniffles. She didn’t say a word as he slipped his arms under her knees and neck, and lifted her up to take her back into his headquarters. 

Inside, he gently set her down in the couch, and she curled onto her side in a fetal position. Unsure of what to do next, he walked away from her resting figure. Or at least he tried, before a sudden darkness swallowed him and dragged him out of consciousness.

Light leaked through his eyelids, and Namjoon squinted against the hovering silhouette above his body. His side felt like it was ablaze, the pain nearly unbearable if it wasn’t for the pair of tender hands wrapping it up in thick white gauze. 

“You’re awake.” The shadow materialized into a girl, the girl. She was bent over his body on the floor, beads of sweat precipitating on her brows, as she cleaned and bandaged the ghastly wound. “You fainted due to loss of blood.”

Namjoon eyed the first aid kit he kept stowed away in a cabinet, now sitting by the girl’s foot, and arched an eyebrow. “How did you find that?”

“Just flipped around. I figured you would have it lying around somewhere.”

He didn’t reply, and silence covered the room like a thick blanket. The girl persisted with cleaning the wound, fingers working nimbly and looking quite pretty despite the dim lighting. Namjoon watched her forehead knit together with concentration, the pain at his side subsiding fractionally. 

“What’s your name?” he asked upon realizing that he didn’t know even the most basic thing about her, even though she had just saved him from falling over the cliff of death. 

“Seoyeon.”

“Where did learn how to do that?” He nodded at the first aid kit.

“I used to be a medical student.”

“Ah…” He stared at the ceiling awkwardly, unsure of how to continue to conversation. He then suddenly remembered the little episode that had occurred before he fainted. “You tried to run away.”

The girl ignored him, and Namjoon urged again. “Why?”

This time, she glared at him angrily, tightening the gauze that now hugged his torso in a white wall, and he winced as agony shot up his side. 

“Why? Shouldn’t you mean why not? You bring me back to this foreign place, and tied that man by his feet and hung him on the ceiling, interrogating him with a blade and a whip. And then you killed him! There’s a giant trap right before your door, and not to mention you live by a freaking grave! And you’re asking me why I tried to run away?”

“That man tried to kill you!”

“You sliced his throat open!” The girl was now shouting, and Namjoon grew speechless at her abrupt outburst. 

“Then why are you here now? You could’ve gotten away while I was passed out.” he questioned in a quiet voice.

The girl paused for a moment, reluctance flashing across her features before opening her slow slowly.

“I don’t know. You looked like you needed help, and trust me, I tried. I wanted to escape this hurricane you dragged me into so badly. But goddamn it! I just couldn’t leave you here to bleed to death.” She exhaled tiredly, shoulders sinking in defeat. “I don’t know.”

In that moment, something warm thrived inside of Namjoon, inside of his heart. He had not felt like that in five years, not since Haejin died, and yet it was here again, tender and delicate like a budding flower. The place inside Namjoon’s heart which he thought was long dead and numb was now rejuvenated once more by this girl. After five years, after all the crimes and sins he had committed, Namjoon was utterly dumbstruck that fate had decided to gift him with this girl, Seoyeon, no matter how undeserving he felt he was.

He intended to let her leave, after all, he had no right to make her stay. He told her that she could leave whenever she chose, to which she replied, “you have to get better first”. She cared for Namjoon until his wound had healed, both the one on his body and the one in his heart. He recovered quickly, and the day which he promised her she could leave his headquarters approached just as fast. He lied awake the night before, convinced that in the morning when he opened his eyes, she would be gone. The thought of her absence brought a heavy weight upon his chest, as well as a foreign emptiness, and Namjoon, to his own dismay, slipped into slumber that night in tears.

But by some miracle, he discovered her sleeping figure still splayed out on his couch the next morning, frame rising and falling with her rhythmic breaths. She chose to stay. 

Namjoon had finally accepted that she had made her way into the abandoned place in him that no one had managed to even touch. He had accepted that he was falling in love with Seoyeon. And although he understood that in a position like his, in a plan of revenge, love was the absolute worst thing that could intercept, he stubbornly convinced himself that it would be okay. 

Under her presence, time flew by. Seoyeon, no longer having any available family left to stay with, laid her dependence on Namjoon. They shared that small underground shoebox which he called his headquarters, as well as heated kisses. On occasions when they spent the entire night wrapped in each other’s embrace, radiating off body heat, and staring into each other’s eyes, he would savor her existence and the time he had with her. On nights like those, with Seoyeon softly asleep in the crook of his neck, he would allow his mind to wander, branching out at all the possibilities of the future. Sometimes, he even let himself wander into the past and think about Haejin, about Jungkook. He wondered what Jungkook was doing in this very moment, and what his life looked like. Was he able to continue on as if nothing had happened? 

Those thoughts, and his lover, had all distracted him from his revenge. He was too preoccupied with the touch of Seohyun’s skin to worry about the murderer that stole the life of the other girl that took up all of his past, or the authorities that were still tracking him down. 

But of course, all good things must come to an end. And Namjoon’s ending presented itself as a sheet of paper. 

It was sitting on floor the moment he woke up one morning, somehow managing to slip into his hideout, crumbled and the letters on the page distorted with awful handwriting. 

“You were looking for me?” it read, followed by a time and address. There was no name at the foot of the note, but Namjoon knew exactly who it was from. 

That was all Namjoon needed to be snapped out of his daze, out of his daydream that went by the name of Seohyun. She didn’t understand, when she woke up that morning, why the place where Namjoon usually lied was vacant, or why he was sitting on the couch, concentrated on his computer. She peeked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, and a pair of beady black eyes glared back at her like two bottomless pits in the man’s face. A wave of horror washed over her as she wondered and then realized why he had looked so familiar. He was the brother of the man Namjoon had killed the first day they met. A chill raced down her spine as memories of that day flashed in her mind, and she recalled how desperate Namjoon was to find that man. Then she saw the note.

“287 Milano Street. January 23, 2016. 1:00 PM.” she read aloud, startling Namjoon from his focused research. “That’s today.” 

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re not actually going to meet up with him, are you?”

Namjoon looked up at her face, alert and worry scrawled all across her features.“Of course I’m going.”

“No! Don’t, Namjoon-ah.”

“Do you have any idea of what you’re saying right now? This is the man I’ve been searching for in the past five years, and now that I’ve finally found him, you’re telling me I should just toss this opportunity?”

“It’s too dangerous! Why does it matter so much to you anyways?” She demanded, as Namjoon had never told her about Haejin and her story. But she had partially figured it out already by herself. “Is it because of the person that’s lying in the grave outside? You’ll willing to risk yourself for someone who's already dead?”

“Don’t you ing dare talk about her like that! You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me, Namjoon-ah! Make me understand!” Seoyeon cried exasperatedly. “What is it about that person has made you willing to do this for her?”

“Never mind.” He buried his face in his hands, and sighed heavily. “I’m going and that’s final. You don’t have any say in this.”

And indeed, Namjoon didn’t allow anyone to change his mind as he slipped his arms into his jacket that night while heading towards the trapdoor. Not even Seoyeon’s thin arms wrapped tightly around his waist, or her cheek pressed against his back, tears staining the material of his clothes. 

“Please don’t go…”

He had never felt so torn in his life. Namjoon was torn emotionally between staying and leaving, and torn inside as an excruciating pain had begun to seep through his heart. But he couldn’t forget what had led to all this — the revenge. He was so close to victory that he could almost taste it, sweet and lingering. So with all the courage he could muster up in himself, Namjoon ripped himself from Seoyeon’s grasp and stepped into the night. 

What he didn’t know was that after being concerned for his safety for the next ten minutes, which was just enough time for a safe distance to grow between their walking figures, she followed him into the biting winter air.