Can someone explain to me how it's possible for someone to be stuck over one chapter for two weeks, then fall sick and running a high fever and write chapter 32 to 35 IN ONE GO ?! Really, nowadays I feel like my life is a living hell but it's seems like Millennium is feeding of my misery so I can write all the angst the story needs. Seriously, sometimes when I feel like wallowing in despair at all the things going wrong in my life, writing this story helps me to get courage and it makes me happy. So, thank you everyone, for reading and comenting and making this adventure worthwhile. Thank you guys so much ! The rare joys I get recently is from reading your reactions. I love you ! Oh, and if you guys manage to reach ten comments (one user means one comment otherwise it's cheating) on this chapter by tomorrow, I'll update chapter 33 this Thursday. If you do more than twenty by the end of the week, I'll give you chapter 33-34. I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas Happy New Year everyone !

Sungyeol managed to get used to his new routine after getting a job. He got up around nine in the morning, made a simple breakfast in the profound silence of the tiny rooftop apartment, tidied up the place before heading for a quick shower and getting dressed. He somewhat missed his barman’s uniform, a crisp white shirt under a sleeveless black blazer and matching pants, now that he wore civilian clothing. He also missed the smell of the laundry detergent Myungsoo used, but that was another story he rather not dwell on.

After wearing a few more layers of clothes in the form of a thick coat, scarf covering up to his nose and beanie down to his eyebrows, he went down the stairs of his building and started to walk across the cold streets to his workplace. The air smelled like rain, cold and humid. It was with a relieved sigh that Sungyeol saw the convenient store in the corner. He went in, unrolling his scarf around his neck, calling for the owner.

“Halmeoni, I’m here !” he said cheerfully, making his way behind the counter.

He shrugged out of his coat, folding it to put it under the counter. Then he checked the safety box, using the password to unlock it. The three guns were still there, inoffensive. After his routinely check, Sungyeol closed the safety box and grabbed his working jacket.

“Already here ?” the lady owner said, coming from the back. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“I was bored. Nothing to do at home.” Sungyeol shrugged.

“Alright. We received merchandise. Can you store the stocks ?” she asked.

“Right on it.” Sungyeol agreed, walking to the back.

The night fell quicker than expected. Sungyeol was behind the cash register, playing with his phone, when he heard the loud sounds of hells rubbing on the pavement outside. He looked up, only to see three black mini-vans, with tainted glasses, stopping in front of the convenient store. An alarm kicked in Sungyeol’s mind. He went behind one shelf where the nice lady owner was putting things in place.

“Halmeoni, you have to go home.” He told her, putting a hand behind her elbow to lead her to the back door. “Take the back door and calls the police when you reach home.”

“What about you Sungyeol-ah ?” she asked, looking up at him with worried eyes. “You must come with me.”

“I’ll be fine.” He dismissed her concern. “I’ll try to keep them from destroying the shop. Now go !” he encouraged her.

She looked at him with worry, but he shut the door before she could protest more, blocking it. He then rushed behind the counter, crouching as he unlocked the safe box, grabbing a gun. He pulled the charger to check it before slapping it back in with a clack. As he looked outside, he saw people getting out of the cars. They were many, maybe fifteen or so. Sungyeol caught the sight of a bleached blond hair and sighed. Of course they came back seeking vengeance, after the way he humiliated three of their gang member. Sungyeol wasn’t crazy, he knew he couldn’t face that many people. He could aim and shoot properly, sure, but he wasn’t a killer. That was what saved his soul, in the darkest days. But even if his past among the mafia wasn’t something he’d like to think about, he learned some things. No matter how powerful you were, you needed people backing you up. And right now, Sungyeol needed help. He cursed himself, hating what he was about to do. Asking for help, even if the people crossing his mind were the less unlikeable of the gang, was still asking some criminal a favor, and the ending wouldn’t be pretty if he did. Hongbin was not one to make a mess, and N wasn’t blood expansive either, but they were still killers. They were not the kind to use diplomacy to end a conflict, they’d rather come and shoot anyone in their way. As Sungyeol was too busy thinking, he heard gun shots and shattering glass, sign that the gang started to fire the shop. There was no time. He scrolled down his last called contacts, and in a flash of light where he thought Hongbin might be at Hyuk’s bedside at the hospital, he dialed N. The dial tone rang and rang, making Sungyeol despair.

“Answer you !” he groaned, redialing him again.

It rang once, twice, before eventually being picked up. There was a silence on the other line, before an alarmed voice rose.

“Is that gun shooting ?” he heard N said in panic, even if his voice seemed a bit far. “Are you alright ?”

“I need help.” Sungyeol said immediately, the noise of gun fire in the background doing nothing to keep him calm.

“Where are you ?”

“The convenient store nearby the apartment.” Sungyeol answered. “Some gang showed up.”

“Buy some time.” N advised him. “We’re coming.”

Sungyeol was about to ask what the hell he meant by buying some time when the line cut. He sighed, half relieved despite the nearby presence of the mob, when he shot straight up, on edge. N said we, he couldn’t help but realize. Sungyeol held himself on the counter to stop his legs from giving up on him. And that insinuation was far more dangerous that the kids trying to be thugs facing him.

N was sitting in the back of the limousine, his chin resting on his palm and his head leaning on the window as he stared into the neon lights of Seoul by night. When his phone rang, he growled, pulling it off his pocket before looking at the screen. His eyes widened at the sight of the ID, fake of course, but that was undoubtedly a certain someone. N started to panic. First, Sungyeol never called him, knowing it could put them both at risks. N was the one calling when he could to check on him, every now and then, for the past month or so. If Sungyeol called him, it meant only one thing. He was in danger. But the only source of danger N knew about was sitting right across him in the limo.

“What’s wrong Hakyeon-ah ?” Leo asked, his bored expression turning into a smirk. “Won’t you answer your phone ?” he asked in an overly sweet tone.

“Not important.” N shrugged it off, about to put the phone back in his pocket, when it rang again.

Now, N was really worried. It was really out of character for Sungyeol to call, but twice in a row ? Maybe must have happened. N felt a shiver go down his spine as he met Leo’s cold eyes.

“Pick up the call.” Leo ordered in a voice as icy as his stare. “On speaker.”

N was frozen. He couldn’t move. For the first time in a really long time, he felt scared. He was about to shut down the phone when he felt the barrel of a gun against his temple. He glanced sideways, horrified to see that Ravi was the one holding it against his beating pulse.

“Ravi.” he whispered, in disbelief and heartbreak, but his lover kept a straight, blank face.