Word Count: 3,817

Note: No matter how busy life is, writing this story makes me feel less stressed, haha. Feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you like the new character introduced in this chapter ;-).

~~

“Hey, princess,” Jongdae calls, leaning casually against his sleek black car, which just happens to be parked right outside the campus. He sends her a cheeky grin and a quick wave, and the other students begin murmuring how Hwayoung has probably found a man to stay with while her father’s gone.

“I told you not to come this close to the campus, and I told you to act like you don't know me,” Hwayoung hisses when she reaches the car. “People are getting suspicious about you.”

Jongdae simply shrugs, “So what?”

It's after Hwayoung reluctantly gets in the car that Jongdae says, “No matter how hard you try, you can't avoid me princess.”

Jongdae reminds Hwayoung so much of Chanyeol yet he seems vastly different.

Jongdae prefers to wear suits when collecting, while Chanyeol’s the more rebellious one, often getting scolded by Baekhyun for the ripped jeans and motorcycle jackets. Yet both of them find amusement in teasing Hwayoung.

It's after her final class the next day that she decides to take another route, winding around several other buildings to leave the campus. She's enjoying a stroll down an empty street until she hears a voice from an alley she's just passed.

“Princess, I’m the best tracker in all of Exo, it's going to take a lot better than that for you to avoid me,” Jongdae sniggers. Hwayoung nearly stumbles as she whirls around on her heels, astonishment wreathing her face when her eyes land upon Jongdae.

“What if I want to meet my friend? Or what if I have to work on a project with someone?” Hwayoung defends.

“Then you let me know, and I’ll just make sure from afar that you actually are hanging out with a friend or working on a project,” Jongdae winks.

Hwayoung sighs. “You don't need to be my bodyguard or whatever.”

“I'm not your bodyguard, I’m your supervisor, princess,” Jongdae sniggers. “Just think of me as an . Every princess needs an .”

“You would be a lot more pleasant if you didn't call me princess,” Hwayoung grumbles, and she feels Jongdae’s hand on her back, leading her to the car while her feet drag heavily across the ground. She doesn’t feel like fighting today.

Hwayoung slips into the car, her eyes landing on the papers spilled beside the driver’s seat. A low rumbling is heard as the car splutters to life, and her hands hover over the papers. Her fingers brush over a small photo of an aged man, hair unkempt and eyes grim.

“Another one?” Hwayoung asks.

“Yeah,” Jongdae answers. “This guy’s been gone for three weeks. He’s been trying to get information from us. He works for another group. I’m pretty sure I found where he’s hiding, though.”

Hwayoung’s eyes travel to the bruise on Jongdae’s knuckles.

“The bruises on your hand are almost gone,” she says.

“Yeah,” Jongdae murmurs. It’s when he hears the solemnity in her voice that he murmurs assuringly, “You know, not all of our encounters end in violence.”

Hwayoung knows, but even if they are mobsters, she can't stand them being hurt. She thinks it’s ridiculous that such a profession even exists. Jongdae had taken her along with him once, and she still doesn't know if she was more surprised by the fact that she had never seen him so beat up or by the fact that Jongdae had a first-aid kit tucked away in his car because it hadn’t been the first time.

Perhaps the job is difficult, but Hwayoung knows Jongdae had probably been living an even worse life before.

No matter how difficult, Jongdae is just doing this line of work to survive.

And Hwayoung realizes then, it has always been about survival.

It's when they return to the Exo Credit Union building that Chanyeol hobbles into his office, complaining about his leg once more.

“You should get stitches for this,” Hwayoung says once Chanyeol collapses on the couch and kicks out his injured leg. “What happened?”

“We took this guy to have a private discussion with him,” Chanyeol begins.

“Basically, you abducted him,” Hwayoung says, raising an eyebrow.

“Abduct is a strong word, princess,” Chanyeol chuckles. “We just took him somewhere to talk to him about some business, and he pulled a ing knife on us.”

“You really should get stitches,” Hwayoung repeats.

“How do you know this stuff so well?”

“Experience,” Hwayoung shrugs, leaving Chanyeol in thought.

~~

“I have to head somewhere far so I won’t be able to pick you up today,” Jongdae says through the phone.

Hwayoung playfully says, “Finally.”

“Hey,” Jongdae laughs, “I know you’re going to miss me, princess.”

“As if,” Hwayoung huffs. Though she would rather not admit it, she knows she has become fond of the male. Perhaps they may be criminals, but after spending weeks with them, she realizes that they are people, as well. They are just the same as any other rowdy, young boys in their twenties, and they are not heartless. The opposite, in fact. And after spending all this time together, how could she not become acquainted with them?

“Should I call someone else to pick you up?” Jongdae asks.

“No, I’m going to hang out with Minho,” she says.

“You shouldn’t hang out too late around guys,” Jongdae warns.

“Says the one who stalks people,” Hwayoung murmurs.

“Just don’t stay out too late, princess,” Jongdae says.

It’s as Hwayoung makes a quick visit to the mart outside the campus that she realizes Minho had told her earlier that he would be out of town for the evening and the rest of the week. She purchases a couple of packs of cigarettes and stuffs them into her bag, remembering how Chanyeol had told her that Baekhyun got especially cranky without his cigarettes.

Chanyeol is busy, as well, and Hwayoung decides she might as well spend some time alone before walking back.

Hwayoung plops down on the curb of the sidewalk along an empty street, eyes tilting up to the sky bleeding with orange as the sun sets. The minutes pass, and the silence is somewhat comforting. She lets her thoughts swim and settle in her mind, simply reflecting on what has become of her and what’s going to become of her.

But she isn’t alone.

“Princess,” says a low, raspy voice. Hwayoung is suddenly aware of the rather cold presence emerging from behind her, spindly legs collapsing beside her on the curb of the sidewalk. “That's an unusual nickname to be called, especially by your peers.”

Silver scrolls of smoke haze Hwayoung vision, throat parched by the sudden sharp, pungent scent of refined cigarettes. Through diffuse smoke and the soft glow of the setting sun, she traces dark orbs and a countenance quite unreadable. The male’s plush lips upturn into somewhat of a smirk, a husky chuckle escaping from between his lips.

Hwayoung thinks it's just another uptight student from her university, here to mock her about her situation. She draws in a sharp breath, before sighing, “Listen, you may not be aware of what I'm going through, but I wouldn't appreciate you calling me that.”

“But I'm very well aware,” the male deadpans, cigarette dangling between slender fingers. “You are Oh Hwayoung, daughter of Oh Moontaek, who is the head of Oh Corporations. Your father owns one of the largest companies in the country and his influence is so vast that people refer to him as a king. Which makes you, his one and only daughter a princess.”

There's a soft glow of hurt in Hwayoung’s eyes, her lips press into a frown and her hands clench desperately to the cement.

“All your life, your peers have mocked you, telling you that you that you’ve only come so far because you’ve been mooching off your father’s money,” he continues. “Now that your father has disappeared, you’ve been facing some pretty difficult circumstances. Am I correct?”

His eyes, once void of sympathy and emotion, are now swimming with interest and what Hwayoung can only describe as affection. “Who are you?” she asks.

“I'm surprised,” the male smiles, “people usually recognize me at first glance.”

“A name would help,” Hwayoung urges.

“Kyungsoo,” the male says, syllables rolling off his tongue in a menacing melody. “Do Kyungsoo.”

Finally, Hwayoung recognizes the male, the dark intimidation spiraling in his eyes and his condescending manner and dress. He’s the second son of the leader of the Do family, another infamous organization finding themselves preferring the term “corporation,” as opposed to “mafia.” His family is known for their connections and wealth, allowing them to slip out of risky situations without law enforcement becoming suspicious of them.

Hwayoung simply gazes at the male, the cigarette returns to his lips, before he breathes, “Aren't you afraid?”

Her eyes heave from Kyungsoo’s mysterious figure to the sunset blotching the late afternoon sky. Soft orange and delicate red laces through the sky and simply reflects on Kyungsoo’s features. “You haven't given me any reason to be.”

It's difficult to read Kyungsoo’s expression, but from the way the corner of his lip is tugged into a subtle smirk and his eyes glint with an impish twinkle, Hwayoung presumes the male to be impressed.

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