Thanks to all readers and subscribers, old and new. I apologize for the delay, things have bene mildly hectic the past few weeks. Here's a longer, more action-packed chapter to offset the previous one. Enjoy!

The basement entrance was a nondescript panel in the wall, accessible from an equally nondescript corridor, tucked away in some forgotten corner of the large home. The only way to open such an entrance was through entering the correct combination for what looked like a safe hidden behind a painting.

It was secure, but rather illustrious. ChaeRin liked it that way, though, and argued that she felt more secure with the thorough disguise. After all, she needn't a friend or classmate accidentally stumbling in while visiting.

The room had once been a lounge and the secret entrance—much more simple back in that day, consisting of only the panel and a hidden latch—was supposed to give the room a more adventurous feel. ChaeRin's great-grandfather had it installed, and she had been told that he used to hold gatherings there with his friends, just to drink and laugh together while pretending to be more than what they were.

The lounge was bare of most furniture, and had only recently been equipped with more sophisticated lighting and electronics. The entertainment area had been fashioned into an information hub, the bar into a medical centre and a training area occupied a third of the room.

The lights were on when AhRa entered, the sound of rapid typing echoing off the bare walls. "Thought you had class," she greeted, shrugging off her jacket.

It took a moment for the answer to arrive, the only other person in the room apparently too distracted to have answered immediately. "The prof was sick, so the class was cancelled. Thought I'd wait here until you arrived." ChaeRin inclined her head to give her cousin a quick smile before returning her attention to the contents of the middle monitor.

"And your brother called," she added after a moment, watching AhRa's reaction through the reflection in her monitor. Her younger cousin flinched, shooting her an uncharacteristically apologetic look. "He just wanted to confirm that you had been with me last night."

"Thanks for covering." It had never been AhRa's intention to involve her cousin, even if ChaeRin's role in their so-called operation was much less dangerous than hers. Then again, AhRa should have known better; ChaeRin was essentially a genius and it really did not take her long to put together the clues.

Appearing nonchalant, ChaeRin shrugged. "Not a complete lie, I guess." Her brows furrowed and her lips pressed together, before deciding not to ask the question that the incident had brought up. Secrecy was essential to what they were doing, but ChaeRin didn't like hiding something like this from someone as close to AhRa as her brother.

There was a brief moment of silence as AhRa settled into the small seating area. "There had been some complications, last night."

At that, ChaeRin turned in her seat, the surprise evident on her sharp features. "Were there? Everything sounded alright—well, relative term—through your earpiece." Their communication during AhRa's outings were limited to an additional microphone in AhRa's mask, one that sat next to the voice changer, and a discreet earpiece secured to AhRa's ear beneath her hood. When she could, ChaeRin would access nearby cameras, too, assuming they were connected to a network that could be hacked.

AhRa was quiet for a moment, and there was a certain unease in her face that worried ChaeRin. Since she had returned to Jjiluldo, AhRa was careful with her expressions, her emotions. Though ChaeRin had known the girl for the entire duration of both their lives, even she was finding it incredibly difficult to read AhRa's thoughts.

"You remember JunHong?"

The name was familiar, and it took a moment for ChaeRin to recall the person to whom it belonged. She remembered a lanky boy, with large, round eyes and a lopsided smile. SuYeon's little brother, the boy left with a broken family.

"He was at the garage," AhRa continued.

ChaeRin started at that, her eyes widening. "Why would he…?"

"I don't know. I think he was friends with the people who worked there…" AhRa's brows were knitted together, and there was, for once, an evident expression on her face. Anger. "I visited him at the hospital today. He told me—ChaeRin, he hasn't spoken to his parents since SuYeon had died. He said they barely spoke, at all, and whenever they did, it was about SuYeon, or as if she was still there. Never to him, never about him…"

A knot twisted in ChaeRin's stomach as AhRa spoke, from the darkness in her tone to the news of a boy being essentially abandoned by his own parents—and right after such a loss, too. She understood the implications, too, that JunHong had to turn to others—maybe people who weren't that great for him—for the support he should have been getting from his family.

"Is he alright?" she finally asked, after a long stretch of silence.

AhRa nodded. "Mostly. It wasn't a terrible injury and he should be out by the end of the week." It looked as if she wanted to elaborate, and ChaeRin leaned forward, encouraging AhRa to say what was on her mind. The girl kept to herself enough, as it was. "I met two of his...friends, today."

She began chewing her lower lip, as if she was processing the next bit of information for herself. "One of them was that guy, at the park."

ChaeRin now understood why AhRa seemed so uneasy. That the boy had gotten hurt from being at the wrong place at the wrong time was alarming enough. Now, he was involved with some questionable characters, as well. "You're worried about him…" ChaeRin kept her voice soft, as if scared of provoking her cousin.

The younger girl remained silent, contemplative. ChaeRin granted her the time, only able to imagine the sort of conflict, the resurfacing nightmares and memories that AhRa might be battling at the moment.

"We were close," she finally said. "He was almost always around whenever I went over, and for a kid he was pretty clever, so we got along." AhRa slumped in her seat, forcing down the memories and emotions that threatened to break through. No, she was past that; there was no going back, no wishing things were the way they have been.

There was no wishing that the JunHong in the hospital with a bullet wound in his leg was still the JunHong who helped her pull the grandest April Fools prank on SuYeon, or the SuYeon who laid rotting in her grave was, instead, the SuYeon who held AhRa back whenever she was too angry to see clearly, who made her calming teas and baked snacks whenever she felt stressed.

AhRa drew in a deep breath, straightening her. "The guy's name is 'YongGuk'," she said, gaze returning to her cousin. "Think you can find anything on him?"

ChaeRin was reluctant in answering. After AhRa had recounted the incident at the park, it had just been that—a recounting. No request for more information, no elaboration; it was just an incident, one that barely registered on AhRa's priorities. It had just been an incident; now, it was personal.

Of the handful of matters on which AhRa and ChaeRin agreed, letting things become personal was a bad idea.

After a moment of consideration, ChaeRin caved. "I'll see what I can do," she answered, flashing her cousin a brief smile before spinning towards her computer. She was, she supposed, worried about JunHong, too, even though she barely knew the kid. Anyway, ChaeRin was also certain that if she didn't help AhRa, then AhRa would find her own way—perhaps one not quite so discreet as ChaeRin's. "In the meanwhile...Let's get ready for tonight."

Mildly satisfied, AhRa nodded before dropping her bag onto a vacant chair. Her mind and body rebelled at the stagnation, craving a challenge whenever things had slowed down. She stretched briefly, thoroughly, before her fingers closed around the set of throwing knives sitting on one of the desks.

The target range—so to speak—was haphazardly set up in one corner of the large underground room, made of little more than a row of archery targets mounted to the wall. When she'd exhausted those—a knife in each and all but one hitting the bullseye—AhRa moved on to moving targets. She threw four of them at once, bouncing them off the floor before throwing her knives.

ChaeRin had once been absolutely fascinated with AhRa's near-perfect aim, the resolve with which she moved and how every knife had either struck its target or was followed almost immediately by one that did. Even now, if she wasn't too occupied with something, she'd watch AhRa train, as if watching alone would teach her the skills. She was aware that it didn't work that way; after all, AhRa had disappeared for four years, returning with a skillset that both exhilarated and terrified her.

As she watched AhRa through her reflection on the monitor, ChaeRin couldn't help be feel quite melancholy. Fascinating as AhRa's new resolve, new skills were, ChaeRin missed her younger cousin, the way she had been before. The AhRa that returned to Jjiluldo held everyone at arm's length, kept to herself even if ChaeRin was a part of this team.

Still, ChaeRin never mentioned anything, never voiced her concerns. AhRa was dealing with this her own way, and though it was such an incredibly dangerous task, it came with fairly good intentions. The only thing ChaeRin could really do was help as much as she could, and hope that she could keep AhRa from being killed.

YongGuk had waited until his friends were occupied with something else in the garage—wisely closed for the day—before returning to his laptop. He had only managed to read through a few links before HimChan returned from the hospital, JongUp and YoungJae joining shortly after. The girl from the hospital—Kang AhRa, JunHong had said—remained in his memory even hours after he'd left.

He had only caught a brief glimpse, that night at the park. Half hidden in the stark shadows, and she'd been quick enough to turn away, so that YongGuk couldn't be entirely sure if they were the same people.

Of their mismatched group, YongGuk had been the first to interact with their youngest. On his way back from the convenience store, YongGuk had spotted a figure beneath the harsh light of the nearby neon signs, all legs, and hunched over as if terrified. He'd been surprised to find a teenager's face when he approached, expression a concoction of anger and hurt and fear.

The boy had refused to go home, and YongGuk's conscience would not allow him to leave him there. This was an inner-city boy, with nice, clean clothes and a naivety that would turn on him quickly if left to wander the unsavory parts of the city.

Even after YongGuk had invited JunHong into the garage, he'd been worried that he had brought trouble onto himself, and his friends. What if the boy's parents found him here, what if they were accused of harming him?

JunHong tried to assure them that his parents hadn't even noticed he was missing, that they wouldn't be looking for him. He had been right.

It was a slow process, but the scared, bitter boy eventually became their friend. His smiles and laughter returned, and finally, after over a year of frequenting the garage and practically living there some nights, he'd opened up to YongGuk about why his family was the way they were. JunHong had spared his hyung the details, of course, but YongGuk knew enough to know where to start looking. If this Kang AhRa had been a close friend of JunHong's sister, if she'd been there…

There had been many articles on the incident, being as horrible and brutal as it was. The details were sparse there; all of the victims had been minors, at the time, their names never mentioned (responsible journalism for once, YongGuk thought wryly). Digging deeper, though, YongGuk found that there was another reason the names had been omitted; a number of the victims had been children of wealthy families, the influential, elite circle of Jjiluldo.

Kang AhRa was one of them. The article hadn't even been about the incident—not directly. It was a story in the business section, talk of the Kang family moving to England and relocating the head branch of their company. The article had questioned the decision, and YongGuk found the answers within the comment section; rumors of their daughter having been involved in the incident.

Of course, this didn't quite add up to YongGuk; if her family had moved to England, then why was AhRa back in Jjiluldo, back in the city that must have been filled with so much nostalgia, and memories of horror? He leaned back, sinking into the couch as he contemplated the information.

She was a traumatized girl, guarded and careful—but she was of the upper class, and YongGuk had no doubt that prior to such an incident she'd been living in, as they say, the lap of luxury. She wasn't the kind of girl who'd had to learn combat skills, who could take down a group of grown men with little to no effort.

He heaved a breath, about to close the tab when he noticed another link, a 'related story' on the sidebar of that webpage. The headline detailed a ritzy gathering of Jjiluldo socialites and elite, to commemorate a local politician for his philanthropy and charity work. YongGuk briefly wondered if AhRa would make an appearance, before another thought interrupted his musing.

His own parents would be there, wouldn't they? His mother swathed in silks and embellished in sparkling crystals and gold and silver, her severe features softened by kindness, and his father, smartly dressed with a champagne flute in hand, his deep voice hushed in conversation. Would his sister be there, too? She was old enough, now, to more actively take part in the socialization and the parties and charity events.

YongGuk stopped himself before he became too entangled in the nostalgia, too ensnared by musings of what would have been or what could be. This was his choice—mostly. Either way, this was his life, now, and becoming obsessed with the past was dangerous.

The ballroom was b with the elite, with their golden champagne flutes and gaudy diamonds and smart tuxedos. The venue was impressive, needless to say, with baroque-style architecture and décor and an impressive wait staff that wavered not even when some of the more obnoxious millionaires gave them trouble for being second-class.

AhRa watched JiWoo from her perch in a high alcove, her lips stretched into a frown. She'd declined the invitation to attend, of course, under the guise of being uncomfortable with the attention their peers would cast upon her. JiWoo was more than understanding; he was familiar with the tactlessness of many of these people, although they were supposed to be the embodiment of class. Just like anyone, the rich couldn't resist a good scandal, even if the scandal wasn't so much of a scandal than it was a tragedy.

She wasn't happy about JiWoo attending, either, not with the information she had. Being particularly attentive was the only thing she could do, AhRa realized, to keep her brother safe.

"The obvious entrances have been covered." ChaeRin's voice buzzed in AhRa's ear through the discreet earpiece.

"Not completely reassuring, to be honest," she responded, able to speak relatively clear over the din of conversation below. "To her credit, this particular assassin's pretty good."

ChaeRin had caught wind of the transaction made between a particularly powerful criminal organization in Jjiluldo and a 'freelance' gun-for-hire believed to have yielded from the Triads. A formidable combatant, and equally formidable with disguise and stealth, in addition to a number of weapons, this unnamed woman was a force to be reckoned with. Tonight, her crosshairs were turned towards a local politician—Yang WooHyuk—one of the few that kept the local government from turning completely corrupt.

"And that's why we have you, and not just the police." There was unmistakeable pride in ChaeRin's voice, however distorted it may have become from the earpiece. AhRa frowned, opened to disagree before deciding against it. There was no denying that her skills were quite impressive, that even against skilled killers with more years of experience than AhRa had lived, AhRa could hold up quite well.

It of course, did not mean that she could afford to overestimate herself. No, in a game of murderers, it always paid to be more careful.

Instead, she remained silent, sinking further into the shadows of her position as an undercover officer shifted into view. AhRa's gaze followed the direction of the officer's, but couldn't figure out the object of his attention.

Having thoroughly studied the killer's usual techniques, AhRa knew that there was no need for security at the entrances. The woman would have already made it inside, and was either in hiding for the moment, as she was, or was already amongst the socialites, in disguise.

Of the vaguely familiar faces, there was only one whom she could not recognize. The upper circles of Jjiluldo were constant, hardly changing. Even if it was more likely for someone to lose all of their wealth and status than to gain it, there were certain safeguards—less than legal and certainly immoral—that many of the elite had in place. No, a new face, even after the four years during which AhRa was gone, was unusual.

A threat.

AhRa was quick to respond, shifting away to a better vantage point. "Think I've got her. There's a woman in a light blue dress, long in the back and short in the front, with a big, ugly fur shawl. Her hair's down, and right now she's just walking past the Jang sisters. Think you can get a closer look?" ChaeRin didn't respond, but AhRa could hear her rapid typing, amplified by the emptiness of their so-called headquarters. She teetered on the balls of her feet impatiently, tracking the woman as she wound through the others in the room.

What was going to be her method, tonight? Poison would have been an obvious choice, considering the situation. Offer the politician a glass, slip something in before he could notice—but that was too quiet, and not at all dramatic.

"You'd think a ritzy place like this would invest in cameras with better resolution…" More typing, an irritated groan. "It only vaguely looks like the photo I have on file—the resolution's too low to be certain."

The information only served to make AhRa more wary. This assassin was a bit illustrious; she liked the results of her labour to be known, publicized, and talked about. Despite her narcissistic tendencies, however, the assassin was still smart to have eluded police agencies of all levels. That, and the mystery of her identity and the sort of infamy that it carried must have elicited quite a thrill in her.

AhRa had doubts that she would risk revealing herself with this relatively small job, and unless if the modus operandi tonight was, indeed, poison, AhRa saw no way with which this assassin was to kill her target without being seen.

Unless, of course, if this woman wasn't the assassin.

As the woman approached, AhRa leaned forward, one hand closed around the ledge for balance and the other sitting over the handle of one of her knives. No, something was definitely not right about her, not the tremor in her limbs as she walked; not the way she avoided looking at anyone or anything but straight ahead; not the virulent fear so evident on her face.

The realization was a force that nearly threw AhRa off her perch, and she swore under her breath before speaking into the microphone behind her mask. "ChaeRin, you said that the hall's alarms are connected online, right? To the security agency?"

"I'll set them off, just give me ten seconds." AhRa didn't have a chance to smile at her cousin's ridiculously fast thinking, the way she understood AhRa's intentions without having to voice them. Indeed, in a handful of seconds, the wail of the alarm broke through the otherwise mild sounds of polite conversation and that of the string quartet.

What AhRa hadn't expected was for the lights to suddenly flicker off, such that only the dim light from outside illuminated the banquet hall. She swore again, knowing that this would only go both ways and the way it would go was too heavily dependent on luck. Taking advantage of the panic and the darkness, AhRa lowered herself from the alcove.

She fought against the current, unable to decide if she should head towards the terrified woman still rooted to her spot, or the politician being led out by his personal security. The woman was closest to her, and as AhRa approached, she could see some unusual contours beneath the woman's shawl, accentuated by the shadows. She saw what looked like an earpiece, hidden behind the woman's hair, and in her shaking hand was a slender knife—or perhaps dagger might have been a more appropriate description. The handle looked ornate, and the blade itself looked like a stiletto.

It wasn't difficult to deduce that the contours beneath her shawl were that of a bomb, a means of forcing this woman to do what the assassin wanted. Illustrious, indeed—and even if the woman had managed to kill Yang WooHyuk, AhRa was relatively certain that the bomb would have gone off, anyway. Just to make more of a scene.

The bomb wouldn't go off yet; having it go off when people were too busy trying to get out—too busy to really pay attention—wouldn't be as climatic, AhRa figured. No, the assassin would wait until the moment was right before killing both her pawn and the politician. Knowing that, AhRa swerved away, trying to predict when and from where the assassin would strike. Outside, when the socialites have settled once more.

Gritting her teeth, she twisted away from the crowd, shrinking into the shadows once more. If this was supposed to be theatrical, she knew where the assassin would be hiding—where she would be watching.

The security personnel had been displaced in the panic of the alarm, leaving the doors to the stairwells unguarded. "ChaeRin, try to keep an eye on that woman," she ordered before flying up those stairs two steps at a time until she reached the thick, metal door at the very top. AhRa gingerly twisted the handle and opened the door, slipping through before she could be noticed.

The lone figure had her back to AhRa, still walking slowly towards the edge of the roof. AhRa must have only arrived shortly after the assassin did, having moved locations to provide herself a better view of her target's death.

"Enjoying the view?" The woman turned slowly at the electronic voice, an amused smile playing over her painted lips. It looked as if she was dressed for the party below, and AhRa didn't find it difficult to believe that she had been in that banquet hall, all along.

The woman cast a look over the edge, and apparently satisfied that it was not time yet, turned to address AhRa. "Ah, so you're that vigilante I've been hearing about. A little thing, aren't you?" Perhaps compared to this woman, AhRa was. Even at that distance, the assassin towered over her, her shoulders broad and strong. "You're no doubt here to stop me—don't know why. Thought you didn't like politicians."

"This one's not so bad," was AhRa’s casual response. Indeed, Yang WooHyuk was responsible for keeping a number of his colleagues in line, and even if he wasn't, he was at the very least not involved in the same less-than-savoury ambitions of his peers. Innocent, as far as politicians went.

The assassin made no reply, though AhRa caught the motion of her hand sliding to her back. AhRa leapt away just as she heard the muffled screech of a handgun discharging through a silencer, heard the angry crack as the bullet embedded into the concrete behind her. AhRa followed on the offensive immediately, sending one knife to the assassin's leg followed by one to her head.

The assassin reacted to the knife aimed to kill, first, the one heading towards her leg hitting its mark when she ducked. The gun turned towards AhRa again, firing two shots before the assassin pulled the knife out of her leg, hissing between her teeth as the blade slid against skin and sinew.

AhRa twisted and leapt and rolled as she ran towards the assassin, making herself smaller and faster. Another knife flew out of her hand. The woman swerved to avoid it and AhRa flew into her.

The assassin twisted around, keeping them from tumbling off the edge. Her hand closed around AhRa's wrist, nails biting through the leather of her gloves; the other hand brought the gun closer to AhRa's head, the metal a cold shock.

"Too bad this won't last longer," the woman growled, smiled wickedly. "I would have actually liked to see what you've got before I kill you."

AhRa shifted her shoulders in response, drawing her arms towards her waist. Her knee flew up, knocking the woman over. She drew the knife in her hand against the body arching above her, felt it tear through thick fabric and drawing blood. She followed with a kick, boot colliding with an arm, another knife, drawing another crimson line on the woman's abdomen.

The gun fired again, and AhRa barely had time to avoid the bullet. She felt its bite, a fiery lash along her side, just as she rolled away. The pain didn't fully register, and another knife was already in her hand the moment she'd thrown the first.

The assassin moved toward her, trying to throw her off balance with a swift kick to the head. AhRa ducked, the burning line across her side only burning more with the movement. Her feet were swept up from beneath her and AhRa landed hard on her back, wicked smile still hovering over her, silencer pressed between her eyes.

AhRa blanked her face, erasing any expression or movement that might betray her thoughts. She watched the woman with a gaze that almost looked glossed over, her entire body suddenly relaxed. There was a flicker of confusion—or perhaps amusement—across the assassin's face, one instant of hesitation. It passed quickly, the finger just touching the figure before the assassin noticed—

She stumbled backwards, eyes wide and breath caught in . AhRa pushed herself off the ground, gaze flickering to the warm blood that ran in rivulets down her hand, then back to the assassin. The older woman stumbled, no longer steady and graceful as she was only moments ago. Her shoulders heaved, breathing uneven and panicked.

She dropped the gun, the hand hovering over the slender knife wedged between the third and fourth ribs. Her eyes were still wide, and she seemed unable to stop the tremors that possessed her as she fought to stop the bleeding. There was a moment—a single blip in time—where the woman seemed almost pitiful. AhRa turned away.

There was a cough, or perhaps a cry abruptly stopped by pain. AhRa cast a glance over her shoulder, face solemn as she watched the assassin back into the low cornice lining the perimeter of the roof. Her eyes met that of the assassin's, a gaze so intense that AhRa felt her body seize. She could have sworn that the wicked smile had returned, just before she tumbled over the cornice, off the edge.

She could hear the startled cries of the people below, the call for medical help and the flurry of officers and paramedics as they rushed to the body. Even in death, she craved a dramatic exit.

"So, I take it you're alright." ChaeRin's voice sounded tiny through her earpiece. "AhRa?"

"That woman, the one with the blue dress…."

She could see ChaeRin's face in her mind, a conflicted expression as she tried to decide between pressing on about AhRa's safety, and answering her question without asking any more of her own.

"She's alright. She told the police the moment the fight started and they’ve got the bomb squad disabling it...guess she heard it over the earpiece and thought it'd be her best bet." AhRa nodded, even though she was sure there were no cameras here through which ChaeRin could see her. "AhRa?"

She drew a deep breath, grimacing at the way it tugged against her wound. "Yeah, I'm good." She paused. "I might need stitches, though."

There was a sigh on the other side of the line, meaning, AhRa was sure, to sound exasperated in an attempt to hide the concern.

"AhRa-yah…."

"The bullet only grazed me. Nothing to worry about." AhRa slipped around to the back entrance, neglected by the security staff in light of the abrupt evacuation and assassination plot. "Think you can make a call for me?" she asked after several moments of tense silence.

"To…?"

"JiWoo-oppa. Just patch it through to the earpiece. He's going to be calling home just about now…"

There was another sigh, one that had no reservations about letting AhRa know ChaeRin's thoughts about JiWoo. Her cousin never voiced her concern, but AhRa knew that she didn't like keeping such secrets from someone who was supposed to be so close to her. "Alright. Guess we'll be having another sleepover."

At that, AhRa's shoulders relaxed, the tension drawing away. "Thanks, unnie."