Suga

          She always stumbles into the hospital room precisely an hour and a half before visiting hours are over on weekdays. Sometimes she’s bleary-eyed, sometimes she collapses into a chair, but she always brings her snarky tongue along.

          And if she wants to argue, who am I to say no?

          The nurses had become accustomed to kicking us out with the excuse of being “disruptive,” but I didn’t miss their smiles when we checked in to see Ahyeon every day.

          Ahyeon looks tiny in comparison to the large bed and the machines she is hooked up to. 

          The door slides open and Byun Hana staggers in, grace and poise gone as she pulls up a chair to the opposite side of the patient. As soon as she sits down, she undoes the buckles on her heels and sighs, leaning forward and propping her chin on top of her folded arms.

          “What?” Hana snaps, eyes flickering up to meet mine.

          “If you look like this,” I muse with a smirk, gesturing to her messy hair and tired eyes, “it’s a wonder that anyone is scared of you.”

          “That’s the difference between us.” Her lips twist into a sneer. “I don’t need people to be afraid of me to accomplish my goals.”

          “This is why no one respects you.” What a lie. “Because no one fears you.”

          “Respect and fear are two very different things.” She bites, and then her voice gets softer. “I would rather be respected than feared.”

          “Then you are a fool.” I sit back, observing her as she watches the beeping of the heart monitor. “Fear commands loyalty.”

          “Mutual respect commands loyalty.” She shoots back immediately, eyes fluttering closed as she yawns and curls up in her chair, not much unlike a cat.

          Right. That’s why Lay comes and reports to me about your work. You’re still young. You still have a heart. And that’s why our side will always be one step ahead.

          “I’m not that much younger than you,” She whispers, eyes opening again, and I can’t tell if she has the ability to read minds. The bite in her words was gone. “Trying to impose your world view won’t work on me.”

          The Byun Hana that I had seen across the room at parties was calculated and sharp. She was ruthless. Where was that ruthlessness now?

          “You’re soft.” I scoff, jabbing her during her moment of weakness. I want to take back the respect I had for her before. The respect I had was for her ability to manipulate the minds around her. It was for her ability to get what she wanted. The Byun Hana in front of me, curled up in chair, was no longer commanding or powerful.

          She was human. And I didn’t like humans.

          “Soft?” She repeats the word, gently, as if she’s saying it for the first time. “Perhaps. But a soft person wouldn’t have been able to steal a client under your nose. A soft person wouldn’t be able to work with Kim Namjoon.” The placid tone in her doesn’t leave as voice rises in volume. “A soft person wouldn’t be able to come to this hospital room every single d*mn day, only to meet her biggest competitor and enemy.”

          Her eyes flash and the human factor that I had just seen was gone. The Byun Hana that was ruthless and sharp was back.

          “Besides,” Her voice drops again, but this time it’s laced with steel. “You’ve been visiting a girl you’ve never met. Every single day. In a hospital. And you have no obligation to.”  I brace myself for her final blow. “If I’m soft, so are you.”

          Was this one of her tactics? Pretending to be weak in order to get the target closer, only to slice the target up after a false sense of security? I raise my eyebrows as she settles back in her seat, newfound respect bubbling at the pit of my stomach.

          The silence in the room is heavy, and I’m somewhat amused. “No war zone.”

          “What?” Hana doesn’t take her eyes off of Ahyeon as she finger-combs her hair out of her eyes and twists her locks into a rough ponytail. Hana’s eyes flash all of a sudden, fingers reaching out for the little girl’s wrist and she intensely reads Ahyeon’s hospital identification on her wristband.

          “No war zone.” I repeat, settling back and subconsciously rubbing at the stitches in my arm. I ignore her sudden change in behavior, mainly because there’s nothing special about the wristband. I had read it already. “We end up arguing and getting thrown out of the hospital daily. If we don’t talk about anything related to work, we probably won’t argue, right?”

          “Or, you can stop showing up.” Hana puts Ahyeon’s hand back down and returns to her somewhat bored yet combative temperament.

          I shoot her a pointed look and her lips twist up into a teasing smile.

          “Same to you,” I growl back, slightly annoyed. The extended olive branch was more for my benefit and not hers anyway. The more I could get her to talk, the more likely that her walls would slowly lower and I could get more information from her.

          “Alright,” She shrugs, head bobbing. “I doubt it’ll work, but no war zone.”

          I blink, not sure if she was playing with me. When she blinks back at me, eyes lit up with amusement, I realize that I’ve just walked into a trap.

Hana

          Shuffling between work and the hospital was taking its toll on me; a daily dose of Min Yoongi was bad for my soul. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. A shot of Min Yoongi a day made me want to close my airways. The cab drives off and I hum to myself, fingers holding back my hair in the slight wind as I gingerly step on the sidewalk with my heels in my hand. My feet ache with every step, but I was only a block away from the villa.

          The last entry I read in Chanyeol’s book was on my mind.

          Hana,
          Lu Han knew too much. I think there was some kind of foul play.
          Chanyeol

          Lu Han had vanished months ago. I had thought nothing of it at the time, because it didn’t seem important. Everyone else thought he had uprooted and went to China, but Chanyeol’s diary suggests otherwise. Why would a man who was rising in the ranks of Jung Hoseok’s company suddenly leave?

          I never met Lu Han personally, but I knew enough about him. A few years ago he had been working in a firm that the Jeon’s had taken over before being hired by the Jung group. Jung Hoseok’s line of work drew less interest than that of his friends, simply because of the nature of his company. I didn’t know much about Lu Han’s background, and I hadn’t had time to look into it.

          But at the moment, Lu Han wasn’t the most pressing matter. It was the fact that the girl in the hospital had the name Ji Ahyeon when her dying mother had clearly called her Tae-Ran. I doubted that it was a mistake on her mother’s part, and I also doubted that I misheard.

          Why would she have a change of name? Was it an accident? Perhaps I am too cynical, but there was disbelief bubbling in the pit of my stomach. If I ever told Jimin, I would ask if I could look into her background as well. She wasn’t a public figure, and the fact that she was quite young meant there could be little to no information.

          A dark vehicle pulls up next to me, interrupting my thoughts, and the window rolls down. “Hana, get in.”

          “Namjoon?” I pull the door open and settle into the leather seat. “You’re not usually back this early.”

          “Early?” He scoffs. “I’m not sure if anyone can say that.”

          The clock reads 9:00 P.M. and I press my head into the cradle of the head cushion. “You usually don’t come back until later when you’re working on cases.”

          “And you usually come back earlier and continue your work from home.” He shoots back, smile flitting across his face. “What’s going on?”

          “Nothing.” I shake my head back at him, lips slightly pursed. “With the security breach and all, it’s been hard to leave the office.”

          I shouldn’t find it that easy to lie to Namjoon, but telling him the truth would stop me from being able to see Taeran. Or Ahyeon. Whatever her name was. And I didn’t want to take that risk. A girl who had never talked to me was quickly climbing my priority list.

          Namjoon was easily the brains of us four. His plans were the most successful and he had the most experience. Even so, we were cynical, and we never said that out loud.

          He pulls into the garage and we shut the doors behind us. “Go change and we’ll meet on my floor. I’ll get Jungkook and Jimin too.”

          My ears perk up at that. It’s been a while since everyone had just spent time together. I throw my heels on to the shoe rack and climb the stairs, passing by Jimin’s and smiling at the smooth jazz notes that creep out from behind his door.

          The door to my floor opens with a faint click and I moan at the mess. My papers were scattered over the coffee table and I knew for a fact that there was nothing in my fridge because I hadn’t gotten time to cook recently.

          Later, I promise myself. I’d just do it before I left in the morning tomorrow.

          I strip the battle armor of the day away; the simple sheath dress was both elegant and refined, as my father would say. As the leader of a large company, it was a requirement to look presentable at all times in regards to my professional life.

          In reality, it was irritating. I could read behind the lines and I knew that I was being scrutinized more simply because of my gender. Most families chose male heirs to take on the future company, simply because it was safer. The occasional female in our world had to be strong and terrifying to make it. I’m not sure I was capable.

          I pull on an oversized fluffy sweater and shorts instead, preferring the non-restricting clothing. If only I could wear casual clothes and sit in the CEO chair.

          I snort to myself. Even Lay wouldn’t respect me if I showed up in a sweatshirt and leggings.

          The door to my floor shuts behind me and I bound down the stairs to Namjoon’s. The door is open and the three men are laughing around the dining table. The smell of soup makes my mouth water, and I slide into a seat and pick up chopsticks.

          “Hey!” Namjoon playfully growls at me. “Don’t start, the rice isn’t done heating up.”

          I roll my eyes and pick at a piece of kimchi anyway, ignoring him on purpose, and Jimin grins, snatching a piece of meat out of the soup.

          Namjoon sighs, covering his face with his hands. “At least Jungkook listens to me.”

          Jungkook blankly looks at Namjoon before picking up his chopsticks slowly, reaching over, and pinching at a piece of kimchi. He leisurely chews, taunting Namjoon, who looks like he wants to bang his head against the wall.

          The microwave beeps, and I force Namjoon to stay seated because knowing him, the bowl of rice would somehow break in his hands.

          “Any updates, anyone?” Jimin calls out, and I have a feeling that’s a question more pointed towards me. I should have figured that he would know that something was up with me. He knew me too well.

          “Security breach seems to have been solved.” I answer, carrying the large bowl of rice carefully and ignoring the real subject of his questioning. “Mostly thanks to Jimin.” He waves away my acknowledgement but shoots me an inquiring look.

          “I started investigating the employee with the falsified background,” Namjoon sips at his soup, nearly coughing out when he burns his tongue. “Nothing has been proven.”

          “Same on my end.” I nod, chewing. “Lay is running an investigation.”

          “Developing an updated extension of the basic security platform.” Jimin shrugs, wiping away the steam that gathers on his glasses. He only wore those at home, preferring contacts while being professional. He said something about feeling like he was a student again whenever he was pushing his frames up the bridge of his nose.

          “Jungkook?” I tilt my head to the side. He was being quieter than usual.

          “My parents want me to take over the hedge fund sector within the company,” He admits quietly and my chopsticks clatter against the wood of the table.

          “Holy sh*t,” Namjoon’s quiet words echo all of our thoughts.

          Hedging was easily one of the most integral parts of the investment world, with everyone using risk management to protect their assets. But hedge funds were extremely volatile and risky, and so this was a huge step forward for Jungkook.

          “The chair,” Jimin says hoarsely. “You’re getting the CEO chair, aren’t you?”

          Jungkook had already been sitting in the chair for a while, but his father had been running the riskier parts of the company as Jungkook trained and learned the ropes. Jungkook had essentially been acting as the figurehead, but taking over hedge fund managing would change everything.

          Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he nods, and Jimin leaps up and slaps him on the back-intending to be encouraging and congratulatory but his excitement makes it more surprising than anything else-making Jungkook choke on his rice. I laugh at the scene, clapping my hands. “This calls for a celebration!”

          “I’ll get the soju