Hana

I couldn’t sleep. I roll over with a sigh, turning on my lamp again for the fifth time tonight. Matter of fact, this was the fourth night in a row that I had been kept up by my thoughts.

Every time I had laid down to go to bed, I had remembered that Jin’s father had my mother’s ring, and as much as I had tried to come up with an explanation, I didn’t have one.

I press a finger against the power button of my phone, lighting up the screen. 1:52. I haul myself out of the bed and pull on a hoodie before padding out of my room. My feet trace a path down to Jimin’s floor, and I knock before cracking the door open to see him curled up on the couch with his laptop, eyes slightly bloodshot with strain.

“Jimin,” I whisper, and he grunts in acknowledgement, not looking up from his screen. I shift some pillows on the couch and put one under his neck before looking over his shoulder and lightly pressing my fingers into his pressure points.

It takes a minute or two, but he finally looks up and blinks, exhaustion all over his face. He scoots over to make room on the couch, and I take the edge as I work out the knots in his shoulders.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I wish I could ask you the same question,” I exhale, looking at his spreadsheets.

“Duty calls,” He murmurs. “But what’s bothering you?”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve known you for too long,” He yawns, shutting his laptop. “Maybe I should just wake up in a few hours and work.”

But he makes no move to get up and hands me his laptop, and I gently set it down on the coffee table as his eyes flutter shut and grabs the blanket messily sitting on the side of the couch before spreading it over the two of us.

“I can go, if you want.”

“No,” His smile is soft. “What’s wrong?”

“At the end of the conference, I found out that Jin’s father has my mother’s ring—”

“That’s not possible,” Jimin dismisses the notion immediately. And knowing Jimin, he doesn’t do it because he doesn’t believe that I’m not telling the truth. No, he’s dismissing it because he knows exactly how significant that is. “No one found her ring after she died. It was a large clue in her case. Namjoon’s even mentioned it from the police case because he’s seen his father’s files of when he used to represent your family.”

“I know,” I murmur, looking down at my own hand and turning the copy of the ring on my finger. Due to recent events, the image of the copy of the ring on my finger makes me feel a little sick. “But Min Yoongi said that Jin knew that my ring was a copy, and he was undermining the fact that Jungkook didn’t get an original because his dad has one that looks the same.”

Jimin rubs at his temple, “How do we even know that neither of them are lying? How does Jin even know what your ring looks like?”

“A news report took a picture of my hand apparently.” I can’t say that I’m surprised. There’s so little privacy in our lives, and the majority of that privacy comes from the little protection that our villa offers.

“Why, though? Why would he have the ring?” Jimin shakes his head, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down. “They’re on opposite sides.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to sleep for days because I really don’t know.”

“Hana,” His voice is rather cautious. “Did they have some kind of relationship?”

“No,” I snap back immediately. “Jimin, she’s my mother.”

“Do you have a better explanation?” His eyebrows scrunch, forming lines on his forehead. “She’s your mother and she died when you were young, so you have this image of her that is much better than that of reality.”

“But she’s the person who kept my father sane. He became like this after she died.”

“What if there’s something he’s not telling you?” Jimin tries to reason with me. “I met her too, but I met her as a kid. My memories of her aren’t reliable either, and they don’t really speak of her as a person.”

“There has to be another reason. That can’t be it,” I continue to deny the idea because the idea of her having an affair didn’t make sense to me. I had still been a child and there were plenty of pictures of our family when she was still alive—and in each one of them she had a bright smile on her face. She looked happy.

Jimin just sighs, “I know it’s not the most ideal explanation, but it’s the easiest one. You’ve heard of Occam’s razor, haven’t you?”

“The simplest solution is probably the right one,” I wrinkle my nose at the theory. In our word, there really isn’t easier paths, just ones with less obstacles. “I don’t know, Jimin.”

He yawns again, tilting his head against one of the cushions as I stop massaging his pressure points. His eyes flutter closed, and from this angle, he looks a lot like the younger Jimin that I had known when we had first gotten to college. Back then, his dimple would barely show even if he was grinning and he didn’t have such a heavy burden on his shoulders. Things were easier then.

“I don’t know either. I’m just offering you the easiest answer there is,” He murmurs, voice laden with sleep and I can feel myself start to sink into the bonds of sleep. “There was something that I forgot to tell you.”

“What?”

“Don’t remember,” He slurs slightly and I let him fall asleep. Out of us four, he needs it the most because he has the largest burden. Day after day, he’s checking the security of our work and our companies and he never complains about the long hours and stress.

He deserves so much more.

And so when I finally do sleep, I sleep on the shoulder of the person who had metaphorically carried me on his shoulders for the majority of my life.
 

“Jimin, you have to get up. We have a problem,” The voice in Satoori makes me flutter open my eyes, and then squint at the light in the room. Jungkook takes a step back, “I didn’t mean to wake you. We were going to let you sleep since you haven’t been—”

“Let him sleep,” I whisper back to Jungkook, entangling myself from Jimin and tucking the blanket a little tighter around him. “What time is it?”

“Six in the morning,” Namjoon’s voice carries from the kitchen, and to my surprise, he’s leaning against the counter and drinking a cup of coffee while all suited up. “Lay has been trying to get a hold of you.”

I curse under my breath. I had left my phone upstairs last night, and within a few strides I cross the room to the door and head up the stairs to my own floor, closely followed by the other two.

“What’s the issue?” I groan to Namjoon, whose mouth is turned down into a frown.

“We found another person who might be posing as a fake employee, and it’s early enough so they’re still in the records. But for you, Min Yoongi found Chanyeol awake by accident last night, and he’s harassing Chanyeol for information on the poisoning and why you would want to see him in the hospital.”

“Sh*t.” Likelihood is that Yixing had found out after the situation, so nothing Chanyeol would have said would be reversible. Because we aren’t in ruins, and Namjoon didn’t mention anything about Chanyeol’s reputation, it could only be assumed that Min Yoongi still didn’t have an idea that Chanyeol actually works for us.

I open the door to my floor, flicking on the lights, or attempting to. The bulb seems to have fused. Needless to say, this isn’t the best start to my day. But I’m used to the route to my room, so my feet trace the path to my room, and I pick up the phone that lights up with ‘10 missed calls’ as soon as I press the power button.

The phone shifts screens, indicating another call, and I swipe at Lay’s icon, “Sorry, I didn’t have my phone.”

“Hana, Chanyeol started his therapy and Min Yoongi showed up in the middle of that. Yoongi is undoubtedly questioning why Chanyeol didn’t talk to him before, and then a nurse made the mistake of telling Yoongi when Chanyeol woke up.”

I cover my mouth with my palm, because this isn’t something that I was going to wriggle out of easily. I tap the option for speakerphone, and Namjoon leans in as Jungkook sits on the bed, one leg crossed over the other.

“He’s suspicious,” I say the obvious after a few moments, because I have no idea what to say yet.

“It would be weirder if he wasn’t,” Lay confirms. “What do we do? The sooner we do it, the better.”

Namjoon gestures to the phone, and I hand it to him, “What if we give him a fake lead on us?”

“I’m listening,” Lay’s voice is rather soothing in the situation, even if he’s the bearer of bad news.

“Tell Chanyeol to mention something that is risky for him to mention otherwise. Like Hana and Jungkook are having problems between each other and their companies, or I am blackmailing him, or something else.”

Jungkook jerks to his feet, “You’re willing to sacrifice yourself for someone who isn’t us?”

I don’t like his tone of voice. And I don’t like his implication, “Chaneyol is one of us.”

“I don’t see him running a company.”

“And I don’t see you getting poisoned.”

The jab makes him grit his teeth, “We’re not arguing over this again.”

Namjoon, however, ignores the two of us as Lay’s voice echoes over the phone, “How far are we willing to go?”

“Whatever it takes to protect Chanyeol, and keep him away from being exposed by Min Yoongi until the time is right. That’s something we hold over him, along with Chanyeol’s knowledge in his company. And Chanyeol’s state in the hospital is partially our responsibility.”

My heart swells at Namjoon’s admission, because I remembered our argument from months ago only too well. He was vehemently against including Chanyeol in our plans, and now he is willing to put himself on the line.

“We can handle it,” I murmur. “It has nothing to do with the stock and we’re in a good situation for the time being, if we can forget about my drug production.”

“Chances are they’ve seen the records of the Jeon’s monetary intake and how it hasn’t been as stable as usual,” My eyes flicker to Jungkook, who loo