The bombs are still going off, the most powerful one shaking the ground beneath my feet, and I am jolted, surprised, every time they do. I’m edgy, tonight. Something will go wrong, but I don’t know what, I don’t know why. But I trust my instincts, and all of my instincts are screaming at me, begging me to run, to get out, but I know not to. I wouldn’t have survived this long as a undercover criminal if I didn’t have a brain.

 

 My breaths shallow, one of my knives, a long, curved hunter’s knife, is in my hand, and all my senses are alive, and so am I. I thrive on this, this action, and although my life is a rather horrible one, there are some moments, even when I am about to kill someone, or a few people, when I’m happy. You can find happiness outside of money. You can. It’s just in small, infrequent doses, unexpected, and there are long stretches in between. No one without money, at least in this kingdom, will say that their life is better than the royals uptown. No one. Money is the key to everything, from food to water to life. It is life, and royals have the best life of all. When they fall, they have money to cushion them, to help them. When we fall, we land on the pavement. Sometimes, we don’t get back up.

 

Jonghyun. The very name is annoying, but I can’t seem to get him out of my head. The crowning of the new king is tomorrow, bright and early, and I somehow know that he won’t be looking forward to it. I know what it is. He doesn’t want to be king, and I know why. Too much responsibility. Too much effort, too much everything except rest. He’s lazy, not ready to step up to what he needs to do, what he will have to do. He’s afraid, of having so much lives in his hands, although I know he will never voice that kind of weakness out loud, especially to me. He’s a coward. He has too much pride, thinks too highly of himself. He’s horribly rude to me, although I admit I did give him a reason too.

 

But he isn’t a terrible person. He doesn’t enjoy hurting people, but I think that he’ll just ignore the hurting, which might be just as bad. Or worse. All that, all those flaws, in the king? I don’t know how the kingdom will survive through this. It would be better if he had someone else, too, to help run the kingdom. A queen, a best friend, someone. But it seems to me that he doesn’t have an close enough friends, and nothing close to a queen. Another king, even. Anything to keep this kingdom from falling apart. 

 

I shake myself out of my thoughts and continue, still hunched down, to a small door that looks unused, and I slip inside, careful that no one sees me, a shadow entering the manor. Inside, it smells like cinnamon with a hint of linens, an odd combination, but nice all the same. I close the door with a click, careful to not slam the wood. The hallway I’ve found myself in is dusty, filled with still cobwebs stretching from every wall, and a single lamp hangs, flickering dully, from the ceiling. I don’t remember this from the map, but maybe one of the hardest parts of a mission is transforming something flat, 2-D, to something 3-D, with soaring walls and additions that may not have been recorded on the map.

 

 So I just walk forward, conscious of the trail of dusty footprints following behind me, cursing them but knowing I couldn’t do anything about them with the little time I have and the limited resources I carry. I walk up to the lamp, which is at chin level for me, and hanging tirely from a rusty chain, and examine it. This was just lit, today. In the bare light, I can see slight footsteps running from up ahead to this lamp, and back, the only other prints in this silent hallway. In here, everything feels suspended- I can’t hear the battle going on outside, or feel the vibration of the bombs under my feet, or anything. Just dust and cinnamon and cobwebs in my hair. 

 

Ducking around the lamp, I continue on, until the hallway ends in a single door, wood with brass knobs and a single ruby set in the wood. I take a breath, sheath my knife on an instinct, and push open the door. I’m blinded by the sudden light, so I just stood there stupidly, blinking rapidly and squinting, at the dozen of laundry girls, with piles of cloth in their arms and on the tables staring at me, their mouths wide open; in surprise or ready to scream, I could only guess. When I could see, and after I stand there for a second or two processing the gaping servant girls, I have a sudden revelation of why the hallway smelled faintly of fresh-washed cloth. 

 

Then I ran. Out the door I had spotted after i jumped into action, sweeping past the girls that have just started to scream a warning to the manor, I don’t bother to close the door behind me. I just want to get out of sight, out of mind, because I need to get this done. Three of us can’t fail this, especially with T.K and I. We both had a reputation to keep. I charged past stunned guards and more servants, but soon I found myself in a small closet, full of buckets, and I closed the door behind me, my breath heaving, I rest my forehead against the wall for a second before pulling away into the shadows. 

 

I wait for twenty minutes and 15 seconds. I know, exactly, because I have nothing to do but count the seconds and wait until I can judge when i can go,. Footsteps ran past this closet several times, but none stopped at the door, which I’m glad for. A stranger hiding in a closet would probably be suspicious. Just a little.

 

When I finally venture out, the hall is quiet, and my breaths are the only sound. Okay. Back to the mission. The lord, Siwon, then the wife. Daughters last, but Zelo and T.K probably have already taken care of them in the time it took me to hide in the closet after my idiotic move. I reached down, take out a knife, and my grip on the handle calms me, in a strange way. 

 

I soft foot it over to the left side of the hallway,m and is greeted by a view of the front foyer. Empty. I step out, my mind automatically reaching back to that map, with the blue lines and straight edges. The foyer is in the slight left wing, not far from lord Choi’s rooms. Finally, a bit of luck. I take an educated guess and follow a wide hallway, my footsteps soft and muffled in the thick carpet, the bright lamps lighting me up in my solitary walk down the hallway in a way that made me feel exposed. I reached a brass door, with gold lines twining the edges and a golden sun centered on the door, lined with silver, and gently push the door, breathing out as it opens slowly. 

 

The lord is waiting for me. In the center of the room, silent. His hands are folded neatly in front of him, and the light from the fire throws shadows across the handsome lines of his face. He is composed, his eyes closed but as he hears me enter, he opens them and looks merely at me, with interest in his clear eyes. He opens his mouth, and speaks, his voice formal but strong, with simple pride underlying his words.

 

“So, you are here to kill me?” he says, and I can feel that instinct that something was wrong grow, until I know I shouldn’t have ignored it. When I don’t answer he gives me a small, sad smile, because he already knew the answer, and continues. 

 

“If you must kill me, you must. But I plead of you, do not kill my wife or daughters. I do not know what I did wrong, but I know they have nothing to do with anything, and I beg of you to let them be free,” he says, and I am struck by his words, more than he may know. 

 

I never know what they do wrong. I never know if they committed some sort of crime or if my employer just didn’t like them, but for all my assignments, years and years of them, I haven't questioned it. I haven't questioned why someone had to die. But now I am, suddenly, horribly. Maybe he has to die. But my his wife, his daughters? Why them? 

 

But by now, T.K and Zelo must’ve taken care of at least the daughters, and that facts leads a pit in my stomach. I know this man as a Christian, good and caring, if a bit hot headed at times, but overall a good man. I stand here, fully in this lord’s room, my hand on the knife that kill him with a quick , but here I am, hesitating for the second time in two days. I must be going soft. I must want a death wish.

 

I still don’t say anything, but Siwon Choi must’ve seen something in my expression, because he bows his head. “I understand. You do what you must.”

 

As I leave the room seconds later, with a knife left behind and a terrible ball in my gut, I think how that was so gracious, such a good way to accept that you are about to die, and I admire him for it. But I don’t like it when they give me permission to kill them. It makes me feel worse. It makes my hand tremble as it extends in a deadly tip, drawing blood and life. It makes me think back, later, and I hate that. 

 

 

But still I go to the wife’s room, but as I walk in, T.K is already there, the wife nowhere to be found, and him with a wild, panicked look in his eyes, and he turns, a knife pointed at my throat, before he realizes it was me. And before he even opens his mouth I know this night will become worse with whatever he says.

 

“Zelo’s gone,” he says, and just as he does, the room bursts into flames. 

 

 

 

~~~~~~

 

 

So I updated again!

 

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter... And the lack of Jongkey. But I needed to do this part, but I promise, there's gonna be some Jognkey soon! Bare with me here!

 

COMMMENT!!!!!!!!!!! 

 

 

 

 

 

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