Becoming a rich man’s son had never been Chanyeol’s dream. He’d wanted regular blue-collar working parents. A happy mother in love with her handsome husband. To be the only child had been a selfish wish. He had got that wish, but life with a rich man was not like life with a regular blue-collar worker. Left alone too often, yelled at too much and if he disobeyed or did the slightest thing wrong his hands were whipped. The angry father had wanted to rear him into a flawless son.

Chanyeol never considered himself flawless. He had too many faults. Had come from a background of too many faults. His mother was a drug addict. Time and time again promising she’d quit. Going in and out of rehab as often as going to the bathroom became an even greater habit for her. Then she’d relapse. It was a vicious cycle she could never escape. His father? Died from overdose. Clueless Chanyeol had returned from school to a man who never woke again. And then he was shepherded off to the orphanage by a social worker when his teacher made a complaint.

As a rich man’s son, he had to learn to differentiate between the six ridiculous utensils used at the meal table. If he used the wrong one the silverware would be taken away. His father was hardly around and when he was all he did was reprimand Chanyeol. Because he couldn’t read fast enough, wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t competitive, was too lanky and awkward so the maid had to double the portion of his dishes. When he was lonely the maids didn’t want to talk to him. Many times he lay awake in the middle of the night staring out the window wondering when this endlessness might end.

He had been enrolled into a private school where only the richest kids attended. On his first day he was stared at, scrutinized for looking so floppy. For a while he had no friends. Sometimes his lunch was stolen or moved from the table to the garbage disposal when he left for the bathroom and returned. They laughed and mocked at him between classes because he wasn’t like them. He didn’t know their ways because he had wanted regular blue-collar working parents. A doting mother and a reliable husband. To call mom and dad. Because he had never wanted to be a rich man’s son. And the rich man did not love him.

That exit came to him when he was 15. Yoon Pil Sun died from a sudden leaving him, once more, parentless. This time there was no social worker. This time there was no confusion, no reluctance to leave. It was all: “Your father is dead. You should leave.” Chanyeol packed and he left. Goodbye to the loneliness. Farewell to the family that hadn’t loved him. So long to the depression that had plagued him.

Years later he came to realize, really nothing had changed for him.

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Was this punishment? Had he been bad? Was there a misunderstanding again? Because he was stupid and didn’t know any better? Waiting being a constant in his life. Wondering and not knowing was the worst. Wondering when things would come to an end. At the orphanage, wondering when he would have to stand behind a pretended smile on Parents’ Day – the day when parents came to look for their to-be child but he was always too tall, always too old to be wanted. Hiding away all the mistreatment and it up for the better. Wondering when crying “No, Sir, yes Ma’am” would be enough when he was caned twice in a night. Now not knowing when the arms he had reconnected with might walk through that door. 13 years later and the scars of his life had still not vanished.

13 years later still spent wondering if he was still wanted.

Footsteps outside his door. Then came the knock. Skittering to his feet he pulled the door open. The hollow-eyed landlady stood on the other side. She was round and short with this mean glare in her eyes. Tonight, the lens of her glasses reflected the moon shining in behind him. Her hawkish eyes scantily glared up at him as if he were the uninvited visitor.

“Your rent this month is late again,” she crowed. Her nasal breath always revealing how annoyed she was.

Closing the door Chanyeol retreated to his spot, because waiting an entire lifetime was something he was born to do.

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Defying a lifetime of rules was what Namjoo had been born to do. When her mother wanted her to pick flowers and play house she dove into the mud and played in dirt. At 12 years-old when her mother wanted her to grow her hair out she intentionally chopped it all the way to the base of her skull. When her mother set her up with a man she dated him then cheated on him. And when the woman tried sophisticating her Namjoo strut around the house in shorts as short as her .

She was the worst when she dropped all her possessions and moved out of the house neither wanting her inheritance or a part of the family company she was next in line to own. That was 5 years ago. Never minding her stricken parents, her angered father threatening to write her out of the family. Glad to she had said. Just get rid of me.

Since then she had become a measly police offer who handed out speeding tickets living on a salary that couldn’t even afford a home the size of her previous bedroom. She had become Nothing Namjoo. Pathetic and a loser. With no direction in her life. Living each day as if it might be her last.

Since 5 years ago she hated herself.

5 years ago she had been young 23. In the early 20’s you just have fun. It’s supposed to be the high of your life when you only focus on yourself. There are friends to meet up with, a job to apply for, and nights spent drinking till the wee hours, to do things you won’t regret later. The early 20’s are days meant to be lived to the fullest before hitting the mid-life crisis where life the energy away. The early 20’s is meant to be lived because once 30 hits you become old and ugly, skin wrinkles, you need to invest more heavily into skincare, begin worrying about your own retirement, who the love of your life may be, if you’re happy, or if you should have been the you just wanted to be when called out and all that other stuff that adults are meant to worry about. Because the early 20’s means you are still young.

Still young and have much to learn.

You are never naïve now as you were then.

That’s what the early 20’s mean.

Namjoo’s gray Camry skid along the asphalt noisily, its engine gurgling as she drove past the iron gates. It was a model from 2006. Beat down and had gone through several home repairs. Any day now and it would stop running.

Unlike her boss who’d come from a farm in Baeksa, Namjoo had grown up privileged in a 20,000-acre U-shaped home. In the center was an expansive pool, the highlight of any party. A man-made lake sparkled behind the manor where during the summer her uncles would come with their boat, drop their anchor in the center of the lake, and fish and smoke. Birches and Oaks and Maples surrounded the lake creating a deep wood. On cool nights, the rich teenagers of her father’s partners would spend nights camping around a bonfire and do what hormonal teenagers would do under a moon. Four buildings stood separate from their three-level home with 80 rooms. The separate quarters belonged to the house maids and the butlers and their families.

In her home, anyone could drop a spoon and not a soul would be around to hear. Someone could cry bloody murder and no one would know. You’d see not a single face in a 15-minute walk. It was like traveling through the dry desert. All the maids too busy managing the home’s cleanliness. The loneliness of the manor just the life out of you.

Namjoo was an only child. The manor was just a show of wealth. And everyone loved it. Envied and wanted to see it. She would give it away to the first homeless person she saw.

She pulled up short. The long circular driveway was a waste of concrete. The patch of grass in the center stood out like a pimple on the face. They could have placed a fountain in the center with a male god shooting water out of his middle. It would have made an enjoyable sight to see.

Namjoo killed the engine but remained in her car. At the far right through the corner of her eyes she still recognized the secret bypass that led to the abandoned tool shed hidden behind copses of trees. The indentations in the grass that could barely grow to cover the bare dirt ground her feet had covered so many times were still oddly visible.

The female voice helplessly crying for help echoed in her voice as if she were still there. The terrifying screams, “Stop! Please stop!” then the sobs of despair of a girl whose innocence was being robbed. “Someone help me!” Despair. The panting, the , the groaning grew louder in Namjoo’s ears. Her grip tightened around the wheel. It was the nightmare she wished to undo but couldn’t. It was why she had left.

A knock on the window had Namjoo turning like an alarmed dog. One of the elderly housekeepers who’d been around since her birth smiled back at her. Heart hiking up from the memory she stepped out of the car. It was ok she reminded herself. It was 5 years later. She didn’t live here anymore.

“Well hello, long time no see.” Yoon Pyunghwa sleek, slender guy greeted. She had crushed on him hard when she was young. Willing to do every one of his biddings just to please him. She was a -up and it was a shame for her to admit it. One time when he wanted her to woo one of the new students at their school she did it and even slept with him. Just because Yoon Pyunghwa wanted to have a good laugh. He had rubbed her head after she boasted to him and called her his “favorite Pet.”

Now a greasy looking almost 30-year-old with specks of gray in his dark black hair, she saw that he didn’t look any worse than he had a few years ago when she was willing to fork out her life savings for him. A shadow of gray under his chin told her he’d shaved and he smelled good. He had deepening wrinkles here and there but could still be considered a handsome bachelor.

He had taken advantage of so many things.

Naïve now was not the same naïve then.

She hardly looked him in the eye. 5 years may have passed and he may have once been the love of her life but Namjoo admittedly still felt small before him. As if she should have checked her appearance before making her show. As if she should be turning into a girl shy in front of him.

She hated it.

Maybe it was the feeling of acknowledgement he never bestowed upon her, so subconsciously she was still hoping for it.

“Have you tied up all your loose ends?” her therapist had wondered. “How do you feel now?”

Still like and so very vulnerable in front of him. She was a goddamn police officer and she was still losing.

“Namjoo!” her mother danced into the room on swift feet. Dressed so boldly while her father lie sick in bed nearly dying. His kidneys were failing him was the statement she had received and his liver wasn’t functioning properly. Any day now and he may pass because his body was too weak.

“Pyunghwa, stay for dinner.” Turning to her with sparkly diamonds in her ears shining brighter than Namjoo’s future she said, “It was so nice of him to stop by and visit your father. I remember you two used to be so close. Why don’t you two catch up?”

“I’m on duty,” Namjoo lied and glanced at her watch. “Can’t stay long.”

“Awww, c’mon, a minute or two won’t hurt,” Pyunghwa suggested.

“No thanks, don’t want to get a penalty for not doing my job.” Namjoo was determined to make her exit as quick as possible.

“Then, how about dinner or something?” he continued to persist. “It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you. A lots happened, you know.”

“I’ll read the papers,” Namjoo said. She knew about him. Last she heard he’d taken over some big company. “I’ll go see father now.”

The trip up did not take long and Namjoo didn’t take her time travelling the thousand stairs. Her father Kim Young Man was in bed asleep with all these wires connected to his body. Annoying monitors to his left and right beeped simultaneously. They were complex machines Namjoo never wanted to know about. She stood at the foot of the door watching the elder sleep. Strangely she felt guilty but possessed nothing less than remorse.

Kim Namjoo had never been a perfect daughter. She was bold in the house but submissive outside. Just look at how she’d bowed under Yoon Pyunghwa’s eyes. But this would not make her return home. Her parents were comfortable here. They reveled in their wealth. While they loved it Namjoo detested it. Money distorted her views, had screwed her so bad. Once she thought she had everything, could do everything, get away with anything.

That wasn’t so. Now, she had no friends. She was alone. The sight of money, the possession of money had destroyed her once wealthy life of friends and love. Namjoo realized she had never been good. She had abused what she’d had. Now she was living her life sentence.

“Why’d you work so hard to give birth to someone like me?” Namjoo asked her unconscious father.

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Stars skittered across the sky prettily when Chanyeol finally stepped out. He’d specifically waited it out, so he could make his move. In the wee hour of the night less people were out, more people were asleep. No one bothered with a man simply walking around.

Chanyeol was geared up. Usually with nothing, but he had his useful tools. Yeorum’s hair pins and an overly large sweater he wore with its hood over his head. It was important that if cameras caught him his face wouldn’t be recognized. Chanyeol wouldn’t risk going to prison. He had been reared to be smart although he had abandoned his ways, but he wouldn’t be dumb on a nightly mission. When Yeorum returned he wanted to surprise her with money, jewelry, and spoil her rotten with food.

The quiet of the night calmed his nerves. In the far distance, someone honked their horn probably at a drunk attempting to cross the street. Nevertheless, it was silent. Here in the center of the city you couldn’t really hear crickets singing. Even animals were at bay or have gone into hiding for the night. Nighttime was Chanyeol’s time.

Hands tucked into the pocket of his sweater, his eyes busily scouted every which direction. If there were people out he wanted to be cautious just in case. No one was around. Skillfully moving around the corner of a butcher shop Chanyeol continued down the alley littered with garbage and rotten food. The stench made his nose tingle, so he pressed his lips shut and breathed through his nostrils in case he might barf. Light on his feet he observed the small area packed with homes the size of closets.

Tonight, Chanyeol wasn’t hunting far from home. After the first few hunts he had gotten more confident. Though the occupants of this area weren’t well off Chanyeol only needed food, which he knew they had. And that was what he was after tonight. If he was lucky, he’d find some extra cash hidden inside drawers or between DVDs. If he was even luckier, the occupant wasn’t home.

Slowly walking the narrow lane all he had left to do was make his pick. Chanyeol browsed for lights. None were on. It was dark because street lights were nonexistent in this poverty-stricken area. His eyes had taken some time adjusting.

Quickly pressing his body to the wall to keep himself hidden in the dark Chanyeol looked around again. Pulling out a bobby pin he skillfully got to work. The lock popped open after a few tries and he was in. Shutting the door behind him he peered around the small home. There was a tiny secondhand TV sitting above a cabinet. The home area was only big enough for one person to either lay down or sit with legs stretched out. An even tinier section on his right existed for the stove and sink. That left him to assuming, the bedroom was a little down the hallway and there probably wasn’t much there either.

He wouldn’t go there he decided, so he turned straight into the kitchen immediately searching through the pantry. Instant noodles filled up every space. More instant noodles. Some chocolate snacks. That was all. Was this person malnourished?

Stuffing some packs into his sweater he glanced at the clock. He couldn’t stay here too long. His number one rule was never stay more than 10 minutes at one place. Now he had to get searching for money. Scurrying back out into the home area he fell onto his knees as he went through the storage drawers. Bills and receipts, useless junk mail, and girl stuff filled the drawer. They wouldn’t do anything for him. Quickly moving onto the next drawer, he saw plenty of CDs. No cash. No nothing.

Sighing to himself annoyed Chanyeol moved over to the TV where he found a stash of DVDs. Please let there be money hidden here he prayed. He cracked open each case, but in the end came across nothing. It was so quiet he could hear his blood pulsing, the void sizzling behind him. And then he stilled. His ears twitched. Someone was outside inserting the key into the lock.

! He was about to be caught! Not once before had he had the cops on his tail. Leaping into the dark kitchen he plastered himself against the wall so that whomever walked in would not see him. Hopefully they would head straight for the bedroom without glancing around. Then he would make his exit. Chanyeol carefully mapped out his exit route while listening to the door close. There was a footstep and then another before a long pause ensued. His heart jumped up to his throat threatening to make him breathe hard. in his breath he calmed tattering heart down. For a long moment, whomever had returned home did not walk by. Did they know there was an intruder in the home? A second later he heard a bag rustling, noise passing by. Relieved he let out a quiet breath of relief and peered out to see a figure moving down the hall. Easing his weight onto tiptoes he advanced from the kitchen toward the door.

His mistake he supposed when the grocery bag filled with snacks came flying at the back of his head surprising him. Moving with haste the homeowner tackled him from behind skillfully locking his arms together. In a mere moment Chanyeol found himself pinned against the wall, helpless to make his move.

“Who are you?!” the voice demanded when the lights flashed on making him flinch. It was a female. She twisted his arms into each other causing him to cry out.

“Stop,” he cried from pain.

“Who are you!” she demanded again.

“Ok…ok…” Chanyeol gave up. Damn his muscles were straining. She was a lot stronger than he imagined. “I’m sorry. I just took some noodles. I’ll give them back to you. Will you let me go?”

There was a brief pause as she debated. She loosened her grip. Deeming it safe Chanyeol began to turn around, but she hurriedly pushed him back into the wall nearly slamming his cheek into the light switch.

“You best be careful or I’ll break your finger,” she warned.

“Ok…” he moaned. This time she really released him. She backed up as well and ordered him to take off his hood. Turning around Chanyeol first focused his eyes on her dull black shoes. He had never revealed his identity before. Should he quickly make a run or would he just end up with a broken nose as she slammed him to the floor? The latter was the safer bet. Raising his hand up he slipped his hood back, hoping that if she sent him to the police they wouldn’t hold him for taking a few packs of instant noodles.

She made no noise as his hood landed against his back. Chanyeol had to admit he was a little nervous, but he didn’t really care. He just hoped he made it back in time for Yeorum. When he lifted his head up that woman quickly disappeared from thought. Instead, he locked eyes with someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. Someone he had dreamt about plenty.

***AND here we goooo!!! A little back story for our main duo