A clang bounced around the kitchen’s walls as Bora dropped the frying pan on the ground. A long silence followed suit, only punctuated by Bora and Jackson’s pants.

The girl crouched down next to the motionless body sprawled on his side on the floor. A bump was already forming on his temple, from when she’d struck the second time. He was out but still breathing.

She let out a relieved sigh and held her head in her hands. She gulped down the uneasy feeling growing inside her and looked up at Jackson who was leaning against the wall, a hand pressed over his stomach. The fabric of his shirt was drenched with blood or sweat. Or both.

“You okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. Nothing I can’t patch up.”

Her eyes ran from his face, to his hands and back up to his face.

Images of him breaking the man’s spine flashed before her eyes and the loud snap reverberated in her ears. As though, he knew what she was thinking, he dropped his eyes to her and held her stare. She repressed a shiver and averted his gaze.

“You?” He added as she pretended examining the still body.

“I’m fine.” She replied, ignoring the sting of pain in her shoulder.

She rummaged through the man’s pockets, and opened a leather covered wallet.

Agent Hoo Seon Min.

Bora widened her eyes. “Did I just knock out a policeman?”

Jackson shook his head and ran a hand through his dark locks. “They’re over the police. These men are at the president’s beck and call. They probably think you got your hands on the black box’s contents.”

He let the tip of his tongue play with his lip bites piercing, deep in thoughts.

 “Because they don’t know what you might decide to do with your findings, they’re scared less. Which gives us the upper hand in this fight.”

“Great.” Bora replied sardonically.

Who cared her life was in danger if they had the upper hand, right? 

“What should we do, then?”

“Look. You seem to have a gift of attracting all kinds of trouble your way. And I, as much as your father would like me to, am not your bodyguard. Which is why the faster we get to the Headquarters, the faster you’ll get to a safe place. In the meantime…” He looked at the ID. “I say we kill him.”

Was this even real?

“First, I am very much capable of protecting myself. Don’t think yourself too vital.” She spat. “And second, what is wrong with you?” She stomped a foot on the ground. “Normal human beings don’t go around killing other human beings for heaven’s sake!”

***

Yet again, Jackson got to show off his amazing auto theft skills – His words.

They’d let the man live after Bora scolded Jackson like a child caught red-handed stealing cookies from the jar by his mother.

They were riding a bright red and freshly stolen motorcycle, driving up the highway and away from the mess they’d shamelessly left behind. Helmets didn’t come in the package — bummer— and Bora squeezed Jackson’s torso in a death grip. He was the only thing preventing her from flying away and crushing her skull on the concrete.

A few minutes into the ride, she loosened up a bit and started enjoying the breeze on her skin. She let herself immerge in the scenery of the sun dipping over the horizon, a broad paintbrush of rich orange in the purplish sky.

By the time they reached the city of Yongju, halfway between Seoul and Busan, the sun had set and the night was pitch black. Bora realized she’d visited more of Korea these past 24 hours than any other times of her life combined.

They zigzagged in the town center, in narrow streets with brightly lit shop fronts and night restaurants and finally rolled to a stop in an alley between two buildings.

“Why’d you stop?” Bora asked over his shoulder.

Jackson killed the engine and got off the motorcycle. He jerked his chin behind her.

A façade with flashy neon lights and a bright pink “MOTEL” sign stood at the other end of the alley across the street. Any other time she would’ve brushed it off as a mundane bedding service.

But Bora’s attention was drawn to the darkened windows and the dirty-string curtain over the driveway entrance.

“What the heck.” Bora said.

A love motel.

The go-to place for couples to have romantic one-on-ones, and though it wasn’t exactly a brothel, it was common knowledge that love motels were a e’s playground.

Bora crossed her arms. “I’ve never put a foot in a love motel before, I’m not starting today.”

“There’s a lot of things you’ve never done before and are starting today. It’s cheap and clean. Come on.” Jackson frowned in annoyance, and grabbed her wrist. He stopped abruptly and scanned her from head to toe.

She was wearing a black sleeveless vest and a black t-shirt underneath complete with black pants and sneakers.

“Woah, hands up! What do you think you’re doing?” She yelled when he brought his hand up the zipper of her vest.

He opened his palms up. “We need to be credible. If you walk in there looking like that, he won’t even give us directions, let alone rent us a room.”

“Looking like what?”

“Like you’ve been run over by a truck.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and held her head high, trying to keep her composure.

She gave his disheveled appearance a once over.

“What about you?”

“All kinds of pigs come in there. What matters most in this business is the girls.” He said like it was a universal law of the universe.

“Are you some kind of pimp?” She asked sincerely.

Jackson gave her dumfounded look.

“Just asking!” She threw her arms in the air. “All right, all right! Turn around.”

Jackson sighed obnoxiously and muttered something under his breath as he turned around slowly.

She ped her vest and tucked the hem of her shirt inside her high waisted dark jeans. She pulled her neckline down and propped her s up in her bra to reveal some cleavage.

She had been gifted some assets after all, and if they could come in handy, she wouldn’t think twice about using them. But still.

She took off her vest and hung it over a shoulder with a finger.

“I feel like a e, right now.” She mumbled her thoughts out loud, dusting her pants with her free hand.

“Good.” Jackson turned around.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a once over. “Very good.”

“Eyes up.” Bora growled.

He sneered and lifted her chin up to expose her bruised cheek and lips. “But your face…” He grimaced.

She swatted his hand away before removing her hair tie. She dipped her head upside down and ruffled her hair to add volume. She raised her head back up and let her brown locks fall loose around her shoulders.

“Better?” She raised an eyebrow challengingly.

He adjusted some locks to cover her bruised side and she tried not to flinch.

The ghost of a smile hovered over Jackson’s pierced lips. “Much better.”

“And now…” He wrapped an arm over her waist and pulled her to his side, to the girl’s dismay.

“What?” He said when she gave him a look. “Did you think you’d walk in there all scowls and glares?

“You want me to play harlot?” She gaped.

“I have to play your client, don’t act like you’re the only victim there.”

She tried not to take offense.

“Why can’t we pretend we’re dating?”

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