Chapter Two: 축 처진 여섯 남자의 어깨

(The Drooping Shoulders of Six Men)

At exactly 1801 hours, the doorbell rang. The thundering of footsteps alerted Himchan to both Jongup and Junhong racing to answer the door. As Junhong’s excited voice echoed in the otherwise empty house, Himchan turned the gas stove knob, taking the soup off the hotplate and placing it, pot and all, on to the coaster already prepared on the dining table. When Jongup walked in with a grin that stretched his cheeks pulling his eyes into crescents, Himchan had just finished laying out the table. Junhong followed Jongup, listening intently to a teenager with wine-red hair chatting away, occasionally eliciting a laugh from Junhong.

“These are the two new members,” Manager Kang said as he stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, gesturing for a young man to step forward. The man wore a plain black leather mask across the lower half of his face and his dark fringe fell across his forehead, leaving only his eyes to peer at the world. They darted back and forth in a way that Himchan approved, scanning every nook and cranny of the kitchen and then double-checking again. This was in stark contrast to the other new member who had already captured the friendship of the two youngest. Even Junhong, who was shy.

“This is Jung Daehyun,” Kang gestured to the masked man. “And this is Yoo Youngjae.” The wine-red haired teenager smiled brightly and lifted an arm to wave enthusiastically at Himchan. Himchan nodded back, curt, clipped and professional, but the coldness didn’t deter Youngjae.

“The agency has already given them codenames,” Kang addressed Himchan. “Daehyun is ‘Ace’ and Youngjae is ‘Genius’.” Kang briefly glanced down at his wrist, but cursed softly. “I forgot my watch ran out of batteries today. What is the time?”

“1804 hours.” Youngjae replied without skipping a beat.

Himchan threw a curious look at Youngjae. There were no clocks in the kitchen, Himchan knew that. When cooking, he only ever used timers, or he would cut a piece of meat open to check if the insides were still raw. Kang, however, didn’t even bat an eyelash at the strangeness, instead, he merely smiled apologetically at Himchan. “I can’t stay for dinner, sorry. The execs need me to run another errand.”

Once Kang left, Himchan ushered the other four occupants to the dining table, settling them at their seats. Daehyun immediately tucked in, pulling his mask off, revealing a face that was striking in its beauty. Himchan understood then, why the other owned a face mask. As they operated in a field that demanded discretion, swiftness and deftness, such a strikingly handsome face could easily be remembered and recognised. Of the four original members of B.A.P, only Jongup had a plain enough face that he could easily merge into the crowd, but well, Jongup was Jongup, and a butterfly could easily distract his thoughts.

“Well,” Youngjae began, smiling as he waved his chopsticks around in what Himchan guessed was enthusiasm. “What are your codenames?”

“I’m Zelo!” Junhong grinned. “From the Roman god of rivalry!”

“That’s because he works just as hard as all his hyungs despite being the maknae,” Jongup piped up. “I’m Machine, because I can do a lot of physical stuff without getting tired.”

Daehyun coughed a little. Himchan raised his eyebrows at the other, but the man ignored it and continued to stuff his face with rice. The other three were staring in confusion at Daehyun, and Himchan could only hope that Daehyun wouldn’t just up and go corrupt his innocent children. He sighed, wondering how he was going to manage the four.

“I’m General,” he stated plainly. He didn’t miss, however, the way that Youngjae’s eyes crept to the empty seat at the head of the table.

“That’s because Himchan-hyung organises a lot of the stuff along with Yongguk-hyung,” Junhong said brightly. Himchan wanted to strangle the blue-streaked-blond for not keeping his mouth shut. It was irrational, he knew, because sooner or later Daehyun and Youngjae would discover Yongguk’s missing presence. “Yongguk’s codename is ‘Jepp Blackman’ but I think most people know him as ‘the Greatest Warrior of B.A.P’. I want to be just like hyung!”

The two new members didn’t question the absence of Yongguk, but Himchan could feel Youngjae’s stare on him.

“After dinner, after you’ve settled in and unpacked your stuff, I think a little testing is in order.” He especially wanted to understand why Daehyun was called ‘Ace’ and why Youngjae was called ‘Genius’.

With a clatter, Daehyun placed his chopsticks down and held up his empty bowl. “May I have a second helping of rice, please?”

Himchan stared at him. “Kitchen counter, in the rice cooker next to the fridge.” And then stared at his still half full bowl of rice.

“Yay, someone who can eat as much as me!” Jongup exclaimed happily, waving a piece of meat around in the air.

Himchan only shook his head.

After dinner when the plates were cleared and left in the sink, he sent the two maknaes up to help Daehyun and Youngjae settle into their respective rooms, telling the two that personal touches may have to wait until later. He asked the maknaes to the two into their training area afterwards. It was accessible through a door in their cellar-like basement which opened into a small, short, dark corridor. After travelling along this corridor for years, Himchan didn’t need a torch to light up the ground beneath his feet, and knew instinctively where the steps that lead down into their training area were.

Located right under a large junkyard, it was still considered small for a training area. He was quite sure that when Secret was still operating and not administrative managing as they now did, they had a larger training area. But then again, their base of operations was located in the outskirts of Seoul, and he remembered Sunhwa’s complaints of travel time. B.A.P’s was located in the suburban areas. A walkway stretched along the top of the small cave-like area, hugging the walls, and Himchan climbed a series of steps to get to it. Usually it would be Yongguk who stood on the walkway; today it would be Himchan. Yongguk wouldn’t be back until 2330 hours, 2200 at the earliest, and by then, it would be too late, especially for Daehyun who may have travelled all the way from Busan, if Himchan correctly identified the slight accent that Daehyun tried to cover up.

The door swung open, revealing Jongup holding a torch, leading Daehyun then Youngjae with Junhong bringing up the rear. Daehyun wore his mask and plain black clothes, while Youngjae carried a bag and hugged an iPad to his chest. Once again, Himchan observed the way Daehyun’s eyes darted about, slightly craning his neck around to observed all four corners. Youngjae was in open admiration, spinning around with an amazed expression upon his face. Himchan clapped his hand once to gain their attention, and it echoed like how thunder echoed across the sky.

“Oh, you even have an upstairs walkway!”

Daehyun shook his head at Youngjae’s giddiness, and Himchan began to think that Daehyun was a lot more useful than Youngjae’s inattention to the surroundings.

“Jongup-ah will spar with you, one at a time. Junhong-ah, can you set up the targets along the back wall?”

Junhong immediately rushed to a section of the wall, pushing at a particular place, making the section spin ninety degrees, perpendicular to its original position. The tall blonde darted into the storage area of the training grounds and began to retrieve humanoid targets. Meanwhile, Youngjae had won a round of Scissors, Paper, Rock and chose for Daehyun to go first.

“This is nowhere near my specialty,” the red-haired complained, sitting down next to a wall and fiddling with his iPad.

“And what would that be?” Himchan called down.

Youngjae glanced up. “Electronics, gadgets, devices. Making them, breaking them. Things to do with the brain. 3.141592654 etc. There’s a reason my codename isn’t ‘Muscles’.”

Even from his place far above the ground, Himchan could see Jongup’s mouth curve into a frown.

“When an enemy is coming at you with a knife, reciting pi isn’t going to stop him from killing you.” Daehyun had removed his mask, scoffing scornfully at Youngjae who had his mouth hanging open. Himchan concluded that Jongup must’ve helped Daehyun unpack, while Junhong was with Youngjae. Youngjae’s mouth opened and closed twice before he narrowed his eyes and began to furiously type at his iPad.

“What is your specialty, Daehyun-ssi?” Himchan asked.

“I can be your spy,” he replied plainly. “Your fly on the wall that observes and gathers information.”

Himchan nodded. “That would be very useful. But please begin, Jongup-ah, Daehyun-ssi.”

Jongup immediately settled back, his knees bent, weight divided evenly between his two feet, all in perfect textbook form. Himchan knew that it was easy to master in the training arena, but difficult to maintain on the field. With the rush of adrenaline, the blood that tingled even at the very edges of the fingertips, anyone could easily slip, unbalance, stumble in the haze of action. But for Jongup, everything flowed. When he stepped to the right, his weight flowed to the new centre of gravity. When he bounced on the balls of his feet, it wasn’t a jerk up and a jerk down, it was the ebb and flow of the tide, and with just as much power.

In contrast, Daehyun stood loosely, freely, unlike the coiled tension of power Jongup was. Himchan eyed him critically. His fists were balled lightly, one held next to his face, the other only a little further out, but Himchan relented, acknowledging that Daehyun’s spy work relied less on his muscles than working quickly and lightly on his feet. The Busan young man eyed Jongup warily, matching him step for step, without the complete command that Jongup had over his body.

“Oh my god, somebody move already!” Youngjae cried out, frustration lacing his voice.

And just like that, Himchan saw, as if in slow motion, Daehyun’s eyes slide towards Youngjae, saw as Jongup didn’t waste another second and struck out. It made his heart leap how Daehyun jerked his head away at the last second. Himchan’s hands gripped the railing in front of him. Jongup didn’t relent.First jabbing at Daehyun’s unguarded stomach, then, when it was blocked, used the momentum to spin and execute a perfect string of kicks, punches, swipes, pushing Daehyun back. It was a performance; each movement exact, precise, with no room for Daehyun to counter, and it turned Himchan’s knuckles white.

A swing to the face caused Daehyun to bring his arms up, Jongup’s fist surely to have left bruises, but Himchan marvelled at the way Daehyun didn’t twist his face away. Instead, as Jongup spun around to gather power for a high kick, Daehyun reached out, caught Jongup’s ankle, smirked a little. A chop to the underside of Jongup’s knee left the boy unbalanced and another kick to the ankle caused him to land in a pile on the ground with Himchan leaning over the railings, eyes wide.

Quickly, Daehyun moved in for the kill. His hands reached for Jongup’s neck, grabbed hold of it and began to squeeze. But arms seized him by the waist, a foot was tangled between his and, with unbelievable strength, Jongup knocked Daehyun’s knee aside and flipped them. A gasp was heard somewhere in the training room.  Himchan thought it might have been Youngjae’s. A knee to the stomach left Daehyun winded, the same knee falling across Daehyun’s thighs to stop him from kicking, his arms twisted across his chest. It looked painful to Himchan, and if Jongup moved just a little more, he would surely dislocate Daehyun’s shoulder.

“Not bad,” Himchan praised and Jongup immediately fell back, offering a hand to help Daehyun up. “You knocked Jongup down. That’s an achievement in itself.”

He looked at Youngjae who had restarted his furious typing on his iPad after watching the spar. Himchan doubted Youngjae could last long; he looked slightly pudgy about the face, not unfit, but definitely not at the level that their profession required. “Youngjae-ssi?”

Youngjae glanced up at Jongup waiting expectantly for him, then back down to his iPad and sighed. He stood up, gently wrapped his iPad in its casing, placing it on the ground, and took up his fighting stance, weight settled, centre of gravity lowered. Jongup raised his arms, balled into fists. Youngjae’s eyes nervously darted about, from Jongup’s right fist to his left foot, up to his face then back down to his left fist. Himchan made a mental note to help Youngjae gain some confidence in hand-to-hand combat.

When no one moved for a while, Himchan sighed, impatiently clapping his hands. “Sometime today please.”

Youngjae, startled by the boom of Himchan’s clapping, jumped a little, but kept his eyes on Jongup at whichHimchan nodded to himself in approval. Without any backswing, Jongup his right fist out and Himchan half-expected it to collide with Youngjae’s nose. But it didn’t, the wine-haired kid ducking under the arm and shuffling a few paces back. It kept like that; Youngjae dodging Jongup’s attacks, and for Himchan, it was getting a little boring. The novelty of Youngjae’s fast reflexes quickly wore out after the first two dodges, leaving Himchan running his hands impatiently along the length of the rail, wondering when Youngjae would start to attack. The younger dodged a series of hits that Jongup threw, seemingly to dance always one beat ahead of the other, ducking, twisting, jerking his body out of the line of fire. It wouldn’t be for long though, Himchan could intuitively feel it.

Jongup danced twice to the left, feigning a punch, and Himchan smirked as  Youngjae fell straight into the trap, moving to the right, exactly where Jongup could hook his leg around Youngjae’s sending him crashing to the ground with a loud “ooft”. But Youngjae was a slippery thing that rolled away from Jongup and scrambled up to stand, his legs buckling a little, hand pressed to his chest. Himchan decided to take some pity on Youngjae and called for Jongup to fall back. Judging from Youngjae’s pained expression and wheezing, he’d probably wounded himself when he fell.

“Okay, Genius, show us what you’ve got then,” Himchan said as he descended the steps and onto the slightly rocky ground of the training area. “I’m guessing you hack?”

“More than just hack,” the younger grinned, his eyes pulling into crescents and completely forgetting that he had just been in a spar. He strode to his backpack and pulled a sleek black piece of metal, holding it up for Himchan’s inspection. “This is a gun I’m working on. It’s a semi-automatic with a sliding motion for reloading.”

“Can I try, can I try?” Junhong bounced a little, causing Jongup to place a hand on the taller in order to calm him. “Please Himchan-hyung?”

Himchan smiled at the hyperactive kid, and motioned for him to take the stage. And take the stage he did, spinning around to face the targets, expertly handling the new weapon and shooting five out of five bullseyes in the dead centre of the red patches. He wasn’t a child prodigy only by name. He held the gun, as if it were the last piece of gold, reverently the smooth sides.

“It’s only a prototype though. I’m also working on a special silencer for it. Or maybe, I was thinking of integrating it into the gun, but that’s a little hard since I can’t really control the vibrations.” Youngjae rambled, and Junhong nodded along, though Himchan was quite sure Junhong wasn’t listening. “I’m also in the stages of developing a new smoke bomb, but I can’t get my hands on some of the chemicals that I might need. I want to make one that doesn’t irritate sensitive eyes. It won’t be a strong one, but it’s more for those unexpected situations and you desperately need to wriggle your way out of—“

“Can I keep this, hyung?” Junhong asked, his eyes wide and pleading.

Youngjae looked surprised, but his face immediately relaxed. “As soon as I can make another copy. No, actually keep it. I need to make some changes to the blueprint and then build another prototype.”

“Thank you hyung!” Junhong yelled, jumping up and down. He hesitated a little, then enveloped Youngjae in a brief hug before jumping in circles around a smiling Jongup.

Himchan narrowed his eyes. Damn, why couldn’t the brat hug him?

After Junhong had calmed down and the newcomers gone on to shoot some targets, both exceeding Himchan’s expectations, Daehyun claimed he was tired and the five retreated to the house, Himchan making sure that the children were all tucked into their beds. At 2334 hours, he settled into the couch in the living room, the television on but muted with the only sound being the ticking clock, counting the seconds. Hugging a cushion to his stomach, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. By no means was 2334 hours late, in fact he had gone more than twenty four hours without sleep on a mission before, but this, this uncertainty caused by Yongguk, took a harsher toll upon him. Sometimes, sitting on the couch, eyes staring but not seeing the happy jingles of advertisements, feeling like those fiancées waiting for the guy to walk drunk through the door in those dramas he adored—which only ever ended in an argument, a tossed ring but never an apology—he couldn’t help but wonder would Yongguk even come home?

But at 0017 hours, the lock on the front door clicked. Dull thuds could be heard as Yongguk toed off his shoes and slipped into slippers, walking down the small hallway into the living room.

“Himchan,” Yongguk said, his deep voice rumbling a little.

“Yongguk.” Himchan smiled up at the elder, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “I need to ask you something.” Once the leader had settled down, his feet up on the coffee table and watching the television, Himchan continued. “I think we need to visit SM Headquarters.”

“Why?” Yongguk lifted the remote and unmuted the television, making sure that the volume was soft but could still be heard, his eyes trained on the screen. Himchan knew, since Yongguk was a person of single-minded determination, that only half an ear was given to Himchan right now.

“I was thinking maybe other EXO members could shed some light on the case.”

Yongguk hummed noncommittally, still facing the television. “Sure, though I think they would be more likely to cover up facts to save Telekinetic.” His tone was light and uncaring, his touch even softer, barely there, when he patted Himchan’s knee without once glancing in his direction. “We should get to bed then.”

He stood up and left, sweeping across the room almost ethereally, as if he wasn’t here at all, his mind and being in another universe, and no matter how hard Himchan tried, he couldn’t even capture the image of Yongguk’s back as he passed through the doorway. He wanted to slam the coffee table with his two fists, to yell at Yongguk that he had no right, no damn right at all, to pat him on the knee as if they were the closest of friends when Yongguk couldn’t even look him in the eye, couldn’t even be there to assess the new additions to the team.

He stared at the table for a long period of time, thinking that if he could make it combust, maybe the sight of destruction could satisfy at least a proportion of the angry resentment swelling within him. Some part of Yongguk hadn’t come home yet; some vital part of Yongguk was still at Jieun’s.