Hana

          I rub at my temples, trying to push away the developments between Jungkook and I last night. Those kisses meant nothing. It was all a game. I had to remember that, otherwise I would be the one getting hurt in the end.
 

          I'm Byun Hana. I couldn't afford to get hurt. I couldn't afford to have weaknesses for others.
 

          Jungkook and I were business partners, and now we were also in a highly intimate deal that was securing the future of our companies while protecting us from people who would hunt us down otherwise.
 

          I wouldn't deny that I had a fondness towards Jungkook, Namjoon, and Jimin that I probably did not have towards others. It was probably the fact that we had been each other's crutch as we grew up and became molded for our future roles. We were more than just friends.
 

          But now one of them was my fiancé. And after we found ourselves panting for air and limbs tangled together last night, I realized that we were in uncharted territory. 
 

         I had told Jungkook that, and he had whispered into my ear--in a way seemed much more intimate than our kiss--that we would figure it out on the way.
 

         The memory made my stomach twist and I shake the thoughts out of my head, trying to think about business again.
 

        “Sea.” I mutter to myself. “Sea.” The sea was blue and so was the flash drive. Problem solved, right?
 

         No way could it be that simple, but I pull up a map of Busan anyway. The location of the shooting was an alleyway next to a warehouse, three blocks from the shore. The other buildings surrounding the site were locally owned businesses, but there was no property information for the warehouse.
 

         My brows furrow, and I write down the numbers to the surrounding businesses to call later. Homicides were taken seriously by the police, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to cover their tracks again.
 

         Knuckles rap against the door and I minimize all of the programs on my computer as a safety precaution. I was taught to be overly paranoid in order to protect myself, and I partially blame Jimin.
 

         “Normally I would just send you a message,” Zhang Yixing, the executive secretary who preferred going by the name Lay, steps into the office, “but you have Park Chanyeol here for his appointment and you also have a delivery.”
 

         “Thanks Lay, and a special thanks for remembering to not use the phone when he’s here.” I didn’t want anything with him to be saved on company record, so Lay takes care of any paperwork in regards to Chanyeol. “Send both him and the delivery in.”
 

         Lay grins, and I’m not sure I like the mischievous smile on his face.
 

         After a few seconds, I can see why, because he steps back into the room with a bouquet of flowers in a vase, followed by Chanyeol. He leaves the elegant bouquet on my desk and I flip open the fancy paper note.
 

         To my fiancée.
 

         Jeon Jungkook, honestly. But I smile anyway, ignoring the warm feeling spreading through the pit of my stomach.
 

         “I’m sorry, I have forgotten my manners.” I motion towards the chairs while tucking my hair behind an ear. “Sit down. Do you have anything new?”
 

         Chanyeol plops down into a chair, a little too comfortable, tucking his mask under his chin and folding his sunglasses, “No need to be cold, girl. For some reason, Min Yoongi has been more irritated since the weekend. Any indication why?”
 

         His smirk gives away that