A​/N hi! ^-^ just a quick stop to thank you all for reading this far :3 we've had quite a journey already, huh? ^-^ so I've a few questions for you now that we've reached around about the mid-way point, simply for my own selfish curiosity >.< my questions are: Which of the boys is your favourite in this fic and why? Who is coping the best/worst with it all? Any character you're angry at, and how do you feel about Jjong's actions, do you sympathise for him, or any of the boys? I'd love to know :3 Also, a warning, from here on out, the pace, violence and (hopefully) emotions will intensify, so... I don't know, I guess, get ready :3 I love you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy what is to come! (As in, I hope it reduces you to an emotional mess >.<) Thank you! <3   •••     "So, Jongmin, are you local?” Hoyeon asked, as Taemin took a seat on one of the two large couches in the centre of the lavish living room. The chandelier that lit the ornate room was a smaller version of the extravagant one in the ballroom, and cast strong shadows across the tasteful antiques and elaborate Persian rug. Hoyeon sat opposite Taemin, on the second sofa, his eyesight easily in line with the doorway. He crossed his legs, awaiting an answer.   “Out of city,” Taemin offered, leaning forward slightly, “the city itself is too hectic.”   “Haha, that's understandable,” Hoyeon nodded. Then, “Why don't you remove the mask? You don't need it on to do business, surely?”   Taemin shrugged a shoulder, and confidently asked, “Don't you like the mystery?”   “I'm thinking maybe I'd like the face more,” Hoyeon replied, slinging an arm back over the sofa with a soft grin.   W​as that a flirtation?   Taemin reserved his frown.   “Well, sorry,” Taemin shrugged, playing his cards, “I'm not so easy to decipher.”   “Fine,” spoke the man, “makes this all more fun. So what company are you from, Jongmin? Who are you representing?”   “An independent company,” Taemin grinned. “You're looking at the CEO. We're relatively out of town so you probably won't know us – SHINE motors?”   “Never heard of you,” muttered Hoyeon sceptically, “and I don’t like doing business with the unknown.”   “Then get to know me,” Taemin smiled. Inside, he felt nauseous, but kept his façade strong. He had to.   “It's hard with the mask,” Hoyeon admitted. “All I see is a young man with a flower-boy physique and glowing aspirations. I can't invest in that, however appealing it sounds.”   “Then invest in our company’s track record,” Taemin suggested, “we've had some pretty prolific clientele.”   “And whose word have I got on that but your own?”   “The clientele.”   “And who would they be?”   “Do you, by any chance, have any recollection of Lee Jinki, more commonly known as Onew, from one of those popular idol groups I barely remember the name of?”   Taemin thought he saw Hoyeon stiffen.   “I-Isn't he dead?” Hoyeon asked, voice trembling only slightly before it regained its considerably false velvet tone.   “Well, yes,” Taemin nodded, a slight pain shooting through him. “But before his passing, he bought motors from us. He loved his cars.”   “I actually knew Onew,” the man confessed, “or-or, I mean, Jinki. Relatively well before his passing, actually.”   “Really?” Taemin pressed, curiosity piqued.   “Met him in a bar,” Hoyeon nodded. “We talked a while, then a few days later the news of his passing appeared. I couldn’t help but feel guilty.”   “Guilty? Why ever would you feel guilty?”   Hoyeon shrugged, before innocently answering, “Must just have known him at the wrong t