III. | Dii.
Suicide Circle
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chapter three
dii
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10:35, Seoul Central Police Station— Byun Baekhyun's office.
The smooth, mellow buzz a portable fan sitting on the corner of Baekhyun's desk sent a wave of gratification into Park Chanyeol's pores whenever it would swoosh onto him. It acted as an instant savior to the toxic cloud of taupe smoke that had engulfed the tiny room. The newest addition had arrived just this morning, you see. Kim Jaejoong sat opposite Chanyeol, alive and in flesh.
The smooth, mellow buzz a portable fan sitting on the corner of Baekhyun's desk sent a wave of gratification into Park Chanyeol's pores whenever it would swoosh onto him. It acted as an instant savior to the toxic cloud of taupe smoke that had engulfed the tiny room. The newest addition had arrived just this morning, you see. Kim Jaejoong sat opposite Chanyeol, alive and in flesh.
The young detective's throat started to burn merely after the sixth one. Jaejoong was going on thirteen now, thirteen in the past thirty minutes. With a flick of his lighter, he juggled the twig in-between his swollen lips and lit the end of the fresh Sobranie Black cigarette, the way the smoke seethed out of his nostrils reminded Chanyeol of a crack in the earth.
"You're going to ruin your lungs if you keep smoking that much." he mumbled. Jaejoong flicked his lighter shut and released his grip, letting it fall onto the vinyl table with a click and a clatter. There was no need to remind him because he was already coughing blood at the age of 25— insides stained tar black just like his soul, but less sheen. Death would turn him into a mix of mineral and licorice. There were no flowery words that could justify, correct nor fantasize his addiction into a metaphor of shimmering haze. Too bad that was just the way Jaejoong liked it. So, with an intentional, deep drag, he said in a voice as delicate as lilies, "You're going to ruin your face if you don't stop talking, monkey."
Chanyeol takes pride in having a very gentle, controlled demeanor. But Jaejoong's insult, somehow, struck close to home. And slowly, very, very slowly, he felt his ethics melting away. He really didn't like this man.
* * *
11:53, Seoul Central Police Station— Byun Baekhyun's office.
The caramel haired chief stomped into the room with a set of frustrated eyebrows, throwing the (once again) empty notepad onto the circular table. "She's still not telling me anything." He seethed. Do Kyungsoo shot Baekhyun an uneasy look before saying, "Jaejoong, why don't you give it a try."
As if he wasn't paying attention whatsoever, Kim Jaejoong looked up at the doe-eyed officer with a half smoked cig dangling over his bottom lip. "Huh?"
"Im Jinah. The survivor I was telling you about." He slid the notepad over in front of Jaejoong. "She claims to have lost her memory, but she's the only lead we have. Try to get something out of her, will you?"
Jaejoong took the notepad in his large hand, smoothing the crinkled page out with his thumb. "Might as well. Be back in twenty-two minutes. Ciao." He finished with a smack of his lips, pressing the half-finished cigarette onto his palm to extinguish the flame, before flicking it onto the floor. Baekhyun sighed. Kyungsoo exhaled. Chanyeol rolled his eyes. Although their actions were diverse, their thoughts were all the same—"I hope we solve this case quickly."
* * *
12:00, Seoul Central Police Station— Interrogation room #3.
When he firsts sees her that day— 2:13 pm, Wednesday afternoon, to be exact— he sees a weak, broken young woman with a delicate face. When she talks, she's a voice of lilies and chimes and honey le. Her head is filled with dreams of pastel colors and enchanting fairytales and wondrous adventures. To him, she is innocence personified.
She's sitting on one side of the round table, her hair in pigtails, cheeks crimson with her school uniform still on with not a crease in sight. "Hello," she says with a smile, as he pulls out the chair opposite her and slides himself down onto the cold, metal surface. "I'm Jinah. It's nice to meet you."
He examines her for a few seconds, examines her smooth complexion, examines her eyes— hazel with specks of green, he even examined her nails— opaque black with sparkly golden tips. She drums them along the edge of table in anticipation. Or so he thinks, but he also thinks that he can see a dash of infatuation in her eyes.
"Tell me what you know about the mass suicide." Jaejoong asked, flipping a page in the notepad and crossing his legs. "I don't know what you're talking about." She answers back quickly— but not rushed. Jaejoong frowns, "A few weeks ago 54 schoolgirls jumped to their death in front of an incoming train on Thursday the 1st of August. You were apart of them, but you survived."
"I really don't know what you're talking about..." Her lips form an unconscious pout, displaying her perky pink lips. "I wasn't at the train station on the 1st of August.."
"Then where were you?"
"I-I told you I don't know!" Her eyebrows knit together, and notices a few strands she forgot to pluck— the carelessness is what irritates him the most. Jaejoong returned her exclamation with a gentle, mocking smile, carefully jotting down some dot points in the notepad. "If you really can't remember, then there's a high chance that you were intoxicated, or under the influence of drugs, which.." He stopped writing and placed the notepad down, leaning in towards the woman. ".. Means that a minor like you would be in a lot of trouble, you know that, eh?"
The two were so close that Jinah could smell the tobacco on his lips, and Jaejoong took pleasure in the soothing lily, chive and honeysuckle perfume she had applied. She got shivers, she wanted to take the pleasure of leaning in and...
"— and we're done here. You can go home now." The man said, jotting down a few more notes before standing up and pulling out a pack of Sobranie Blacks. The girl stood frozen in place, as if she had been paralyzed on the spot. But— unbeknownst to the young woman, the smirk that played on her lips soon after did not go un-noticed for the middle-aged detective. And he says to himself, always, "the devil's in the details".
* * *
23:56
It's almost midnight when Baekhyun finally allows Jaejoong to head home, he was very pleased with all the theories that the ex-detective had on the mass suicide, and insured him that he'd be expecting Jaejoong at the police station the following day at 9 am sharp. It would be an incredible pain in the for Jaejoong to wake up that early—but as he keeps reminding himself— I need to pick up my life.
So with an irritated roll of his eyes, he nods slowly and leaves the station. Baekhyun told him that the next train to his apartment block would roll by at around 12:15 am. So, judging by the time Jaejoong made it to the subway he had a good fifteen minutes to kill.
Then he spots her. Pick-pocketing from an old man.
An old man— probably fresh out of his seventies. Lung cancer and all— was her unfortunate victim. They way she did it was so sly, so precise— so mesmerizing, that all Jaejoong could do was gawk in amazement. If it wasn't for his keen eyesight, and knack for details, he wouldn't had even noticed. Her hand stealthily slivers into his coat's pocket pulling out a thick, brown wallet. The elderly man turns around, and as if prepared, she sends him a warm smile while her hand gestures to a seat beside her. By the time the man's taken the seat, she's also taken his phone.
She has too much shining gold glitter on the tips of her fingernails, and you'd think someone would catch those flashy claws when they whisk belongings away from bodies, but she has a face that any man would apologize ten times to. So gentle, so innocent— It's a face you can't expect a crook would have. Eyes like diamonds, skin like pearls. Mesmerizing, he thinks again and again and again.
When he's looking back at her, she's already leapt off with the crowd and all of her mesmerizing glitter disappears into the mazes of faces and shadows. All that is left is a trace of the smothering, lingering scent of lilies, chimes and honeysuckle. It suffocates his thoughts and clouds his mind's clarity.
* * *
His train ends up arriving 20 minutes late. The train speeds up and slows down; the doors opening with that familiar whoosh sound. Not many people like to take the trains at this time of night, probably because they're scared of people like Jaejoong, he thinks. Either way it's good for him, because the less of humanity the better.
The lull of the train is comforting as he leans his head against a metal pole, feeling the thrum of the train run through his body in the vibration from the grey plastic seat. Two stops roll by in a matter of time, and he opens his eyes at the whoosh of the train doors opening once again. And again. And again. "Three stops left," He mutters, "only three stops left."
Suddenly, Jaejoong gets a whiff of the unholy scent of perfume on the train cart. Lillie's and chimes and honeysuckle. The feminine aroma, he cannot deny, belongs to that devil he had seen earlier that was dancing around the many suits and briefcases, snipping at pockets and stealing watches. He looks around, and there he sees it, that familiar gleam in the shadows. There's a kid sitting a few rows behind Jaejoong, black hoodie pulled low over her head, but it still can't quite hide the school uniform she's wearing underneath. Cherry-flavored lollipop suspended between her thick lips, the girl's lost in her own world as she leans back against her seat with her eyes closed, full lips pursed in an unconscious pout.
Jaejoong doesn't know why, but he soon finds himself walking down the train and towards her seat, carefully sliding in to sit beside her. Like a porcelain doll, she flutters to life. Hazel orbs rimmed with dark, thick eyelashes with a tacky golden star sticker clinging to the corner of eyes greet him. He notices how her hair looks different now— draped over her left shoulder, it was a waterfall of bright, butterscotch blonde with small, flecks of violet, cerises, emerald and flavescent crèmes floating through her river— she looked, more of less, like a woman.
"Hi." He says, taking out a cigarette and lighting the tip.
"Oh..." She shuffled her hips around, so that she was sitting upright. "Hi."
Jaejoong didn't beat around the bush, he likes to be upright and forward. "What are you doing here so late?"
She blinks at him for a few seconds, before dragging her head down and looking at her feet, "I-I have.. No where else to go."
"Don't you have an... Er.. What do you call it.." He paused for a moment to scratch the back of his head. "Don't you have a family, or a house to go to?"
"No."
There was a silence between the two.
"That's too bad." He says, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Jinah glances at the 'no smoking' sign stuck to the corner of the train. Her next words come off quiet, ephemeral even, "C-Can I stay with you?"
The question caught the stoic ex-detective off-guard. Nonetheless, the ice remained intact. "No, you cannot."
"B-but I have no where to go.." She looked up at him with wide eyes. But this time in those eyes, he didn't see star-tinted glass, he didn't see a young girl obsessed with pastels, and pinks, and anything that is the opposite of black. He's didn't see a dreamer of colors and life and adventures and fairytales. He saw a lost puppy. A girl that longed to feel belonged.
"Just tonight." He sighs, and before he knows it, he's engulfed in a pair of frail, thin arms. Her embrace is like paper— one wrong move and feels like he could break her whole foundation. Soon enough, her arms unravel and the smell of lilies and chimes and honeysuckle fade.
"Thank you so, so, so much.." Jaejoong cuts her off, "—Just stay out of my way. It's only a night." And the boy's mouth shuts tight with the click of his teeth. Jaejoong shifts his body just slightly so that he's not facing Jinah, but the window of the subway, opposite him, so that he can watch the kaleidoscope of the dark city lights rush by and stop feeling sick to his stomach because Jinah was the first person that has hugged him in years.
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