"You," Max hisses. "Come here."

The boy points one finger to himself in bewilderment and Max nods impatiently. Luckily, this one is more trusting than Chunji was and walks over promptly. He even bows when he reaches Max.

"Who are you?" the boy asks. He has a delicate face, one that could probably be interchangeable between genders. Max guesses that the boy's used to being told that he's prettier than most girls.

"It doesn't matter who I am," Max says. "What matters is who you are."

"Me?" The boy's eyes are wide.

Max feels a pang of pity for the innocent boy, who curls into flattery so easily. He clearly is not aware of the dangers of this world."Yes, you," Max says, sugar-coating his voice until it sounds almost like a purr. "What's your name?"

"Lee Taemin."

Wow. I wish I'd found this boy first. So much less argumentative than that Chunji boy. Prettier, too. But that may not be good for him.

 Max forces a smile on his lips to reassure the boy. "That's a nice name."

Taemin nods, looking pleased. "People say that all the time."

Max widens his smile, exposing more teeth and trying to project the impression that he really cares. "I bet they do," he says. Already his voice is getting sick of being in another tone. "Listen, Taemin, do you think you could do something for me?"

Taemin leans forward. "Like what?"

He pulls out the piece of paper he'd prepared earlier and rolls it up. "I just need you to deliver this to that woman over there," he says, using the stub of paper to direct Taemin's attention towards Gyuri, who is walking up the stairs in a purple dress.

"The woman on the stairs?" Taemin asks.

"Yes. Do you know her?"

Taemin squints at her for a moment before shaking his head. "I've seen her before, though," he says. "My mother told me who she was, but I forgot."

Max almost laughs. This is almost too perfect to be true. He assembles his face in his most charming expression and hands the paper to Taemin. "It doesn't matter if you know her," he croons. "You think you can help me out?"

Taemin takes the paper readily and nods. "Of course," he says. "So, I just need to give this to her?"

Max nods, and this time, his smile is genuine. "Yes. Thank you," he says. "Oh, and Taemin?"

Taemin, who had turned to go, spins back around. "Yes?"

"Don't read the note."

Taemin nods once and bows. "I won't."

As soon as Taemin leaves, Max shakes his head in disbelief. May God have mercy on that poor boy's innocent soul. The world eats up people like him. Who knows what he'll get himself into.

I remember being like that.

Max steers his mind from that train of thought and shifts his attention to Gyuri, who has paused at the top of the stairs.

As always, she looks exquisite in the provocative purple dress she's wearing, but even from this distance he can sense her frustration. It taints her beauty and aura, like a vengeful goddess consumed by ire.

Maybe it's not that intense, Max thinks, but he knows he's angered her. He remembers the way she had looked on that balcony, how, for a few moments, she let down her walls and exposed her underlying feelings.

She's scared, Max thinks. Scared about something I don't know, but it doesn't matter. Fear makes women weak. Malleable.

And women like that are easy to bend and break.

This job will be easier than I thought.

Max is confident in himself. He believes he has observed enough of Gyuri and her surroundings to know exactly what he's dealing with. And frankly, regardless of what Fei had said, he thinks that his supposed impending death is not tied to the job itself. That's not T.O.P's style, he thinks. T.O.P will have arranged for me to be killed by someone who knows what they're doing. Maybe he even plans to kill me himself. But I won't die stealing this diamond.

In a way, he is right on some counts.

And he is wrong on all counts.

So terribly wrong.

There has only ever been one other time that Max has assumed incorrectly from what he observes. But that had been a long time ago, and though he doesn't know it, he really should know better...

***

"Tell me what you see."

Max follows where T.O.P's finger is pointing, and his gaze lands on a woman around her early 40's or late 30's on the floor below them. She is foreign, with the ruddy complexion native to somewhere in Europe and dirty blonde hair. Amongst the black haired and black eyed sea of Koreans, she sticks out like a sore thumb.

"That woman?"

"Yes. What is she doing?"

Max looks again, away from T.O.P's impassive face. "She's...reading something."

"Reading what?"

He frowns as he tries to make out exactly what the book in the woman's hands is. "A journal. I think," Max adds.

T.O.P leans away from the balcony, straightening up. He clasps his hands behind his back, and Max swallows, knowing he's being tested. "What does that tell you about her?"

"I... I don't understand exactly what you're asking."

T.O.P sighs with exaggerated patience. "I should rephrase that question then, yes?"

Too afraid to answer verbally, Max nods.

"Say you were to come across this lady, just coincidentally, walking to school or sitting beside you on the train," T.O.P says, nodding in the woman's direction. "If I asked you to tell me what kind of person you think she is just by looking at her, what would you say?"

Max takes a long time to answer, even though his mind is rapidly trying to come up with an answer that will hopefully appease T.O.P. "She's a foreigner," Max says. "And she's alone, so coupled with the fact that this is an unfamiliar country, she must be very lonely."

T.O.P nods almost imperceptibly. "What about her wealth?" he asks. "What do you assume?"