During the course of the last five days, Sungjong managed to become the angel of death. It wasn’t necessarily a role he had willingly accepted upon himself, but it was a weight he was bound to bear and he hated it.

Sungjong announced the news of Sunggyu’s passing to five people so far, the first being Sungyeol. He had been absent when Sunggyu’s lungs gave their last breath, having had run out on an errand of retrieving various blueprints and maps from the city archive. Sungjong met him at the clinic with a fallen face, and Sungyeol didn’t even need to ask.

The gunshot wound had caused too much muscle damage, puncturing one of Sunggyu’s lungs and causing a major bleed-out in the process, and taking into account the time it took for him to receive medical treatment, it seemed to have been a lost cause from the start. Sungjong wasn’t necessarily surprised when Dr. Hwang looked down at his watch and determined the time of death, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t doubled over with a gasp in the living room, the wind knocked out of him as if he’d been punched in his gut.

Sungjong was alone when he found out and he was alone when he told Sungyeol and Myungsoo (though he wouldn’t be when Woohyun and Dongwoo eventually wake up, but that wouldn’t ease the task). Sungjong was also alone when he announced the news to Sunggyu’s mother, as was she.

Mrs. Kim hadn’t known Sungyeol except for the second handed acquaintance she’d gained through her son’s stories, so it wouldn’t have been appropriate for him to tag along. It was Sungjong and the other two hyungs which Mrs. Kim had known almost too well, and Sungjong couldn’t help but feel that it shouldn’t be him doing this. It should have been Woohyun with his wholehearted sympathy that prevails at times of crisis like this or Dongwoo with his overflowing nurturing nature and warmth. Both were closer to Sunggyu than Sungjong, and could definitely deliver the news better than him, but once again life had proven to Sungjong that it did not intend to make itself easy for him.

He knocked on the door hesitantly, the rhythm of the knocks matching that of his heart, both so loud in his ears that they had become inevitably synonymous.

Mrs. Kim smiled at him at first, delighted at the unexpected visit. She told him that her husband was working a morning shift that day, and Sungjong didn’t know whether he was relieved or burdened by that fact. Perhaps it would have been better for them both to hear his message from him, but he had to settle for one parent at a time.

Sungjong was the maknae of the group and hence the maknae in Mrs. Kim’s eyes. He would usually wince and shy away from her affectionate pinches of his cheeks and constant remarks of how skinny he had grown, but having his own mother so far away he couldn’t help but lean into her touch more often than not. And yet there he was, invading her home and assaulting her with the most terrible thing anyone could ever say to a mother.

She slapped him.

“You’re his friend!” She yelled in horror. “You should have kept him out of trouble!”

And Sungjong accepted the throbbing pain in his cheek, because she was right. He failed her. He failed him.

“He’s just a baby…” She sobbed into her palms, her slim shoulders shaking with grief… renewed grief. This was her second time going through this, and Sungjong hated himself at that moment for putting her through this again.

“I’m so sorry.” He choked out, tears flooding his throat and blurring his vision. He turned to leave, concluding that he’d done enough damage for the day, but in the fracture of a second he felt her again. This time she was hugging him, clinging onto him with shaky arms and an even shakier voice, as if she were about to crumble into nothing at any given moment.

“Oh, aegi…” She cried. “I’m sorry. You loved him like a brother. I know you did.”

And he did. Which was why hugging his mother felt so wrong, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t his dongsaeng. Sunggyu only had one noona and she was gone too.

Was there a name for a mother who had lost her children? Sungjong would later wonder. There was a word for the opposite, but none for Mrs. Kim. And then he realized. There is no word for it because some atrocities shouldn’t be named. Some things need to go nameless for the sake of those bearing them, because in this case having a title was worse than not having one at all.

And he hugged her back like one would do to regain balance, because his world had officially flipped upside down and he needed all the leverage he could get. Sadly, the person he was holding onto was more broken than he was.

The funeral was like witnessing Jieun’s death all over again. The same weeping relatives, the same emotional ceremony… Sungjong almost couldn’t bear it. But this time he wasn’t alone. Never in his life had Sungjong thought that Sungyeol’s silence would bring him so much comfort, because in a hall of unceasing crying a steady pillar was all he needed. Sungyeol was devastated as well, but his grief was silent and thus he was strong even in his weakness. Sungjong shook throughout the entirety of the day, envying Sungyeol and his characteristic stability, but Sungyeol broke into tears the moment they stepped into the clinic that day.

Sungjong had every excuse to sink into inactivity, to quit and resort to the immobility his mind was threatening to impose upon him. But the dead are dead and would stay that way forever, Howon on the other hand (Ho-ya, he would remind himself, he isn’t Howon yet) was still alive for all they knew, and they couldn’t risk losing him as well. Keeping that in mind, grief turned into motivation, pain turned into action… Muhanui were wounded, but alive and kicking.

“Have you lost your mind?” Sungyeol inquired rather laconically in response to Sungjong’s odd proposition.

“Hyung, hear me out.” He insisted.

Sungyeol was less than thrilled about Sungjong’s idea to involve Myungsoo in their rescue mission, but Sungjong had given this much thought, and he seemed to have a rather solid plan.

“This is a personal mission; hence I can’t use my Muhanui contacts for it. What we need right now are friends, not mercenaries.”

“But aren’t you two… involved, or whatever?” Sungyeol used a vague hand gesture to fill the silence before wording out his concern.

Sungjong rolled his eyes. Sungyeol was open-minded but his puzzlement about the dynamics of Sungjong’s and Myungsoo’s relationship was still quite prominent. “Yes, but he’s the most trustworthy link I’ve ever made. And he wants to help.”

“What if he gets hurt?”

Sungjong let out a deep sigh because this question had practically become a permanent resident in his mind with the frequency it popped up to harass him. Of course he’d thought of it, but these were desperate times and Sungjong trusted Myungsoo as much as he trusted any other member of Muhanui, perhaps even more. Sungjong would never forgive himself if Myungsoo were to get hurt, but he would loathe himself just as much as if they were to fail rescue Hoya.

“He can carry his own weight.” Was all Sungjong responded, and was suddenly taken aback by how cold that sounded. He apologized mentally for his bluntness as if Myungsoo could hear him. “Besides, we might need someone to help us carry Hoya. He is injured after all.”

The chance that Hoya was in fact dead was always there, nestling in the back of Sungjong’s mind, but the he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on that. He had a friend in need, dead or alive, and their mission was to bring him back in whatever condition he might be.

“I have friends too, you know.” Sungyeol offered, seemingly off-topic, but Sungjong understood what he was referring to. He didn’t want Myungsoo involved for whatever reason, but Sungjong couldn’t picture a better alternative. It wasn’t ideal, but nothing about the situation really was.

“How much do you trust them with our lives?”

Sungyeol kept silent, and that seemed to settle it.

Dr. Hwang’s clinic was more crowded than ever the day Sungjong invited Myungsoo and Arah to meet with him and Sungyeol in order to discuss the details of their plan. Dongwoo and Woohyun still lay sedated in the other room, and the doctor scurried between the vicinities carrying syringes and gauzes and various medical supplies as the impermanent newly assembled members of Muhanui sat somewhat motionless around an empty dinner table, scanning each other with curious eyes.

Arah had reacted just the way Myungsoo had expected when he finally revealed the entire ordeal to her just a few days prior. Sungjong had given him the okay to discuss the latest events with his best friend and Myungsoo was more than relieved, though he was underwhelmed with her typical reply.

“How exciting!” She exclaimed, her eyes glowing almost dangerously.“This is just like in the movies!”

He couldn’t help but sigh in response, because this was anything but exciting, and yet Arah was nothing but excitable. She held her smile for a long moment before suddenly turning sullen.

“Is this what you were keeping from me all this time?” She looked more bemused than hurt, but the question still made Myungsoo’s heart twitch uncomfortably in his chest.

“Yes,” He admitted apologetically. “I hope you can understand.”

Arah turned chipper again in an instant, flashing her radiant smile as if it never disappeared. “Oh, of course!” She waved Myungsoo’s concern away with her hand. “We all have our own secret underground-left-winged-activists-slash-lovers; it’s nothing to be alarmed by.”

Myungsoo rolled his eyes but laughed along anyway. Arah’s humor was tactless but sometimes it was strangely appropriate.

“Although I know the only reason you’re even telling me this is because you require my exquisite acting expertise, but you’re forgiven anyway.”

He rolled his eyes again, expecting Arah to ramble on but she fell quiet all of a sudden, her eyes wary.

“Please send my deepest condolences to your byeonsa.” She then said after a short silence, any trace of humor gone again from her face. She had the most amazing skill of zigzagging between emotions, which used to catch Myungsoo off guard at first, but through his acquaintance with Arah he’d learned that it was used as a coping mechanism more than anything and wasn’t taken aback by it anymore. If anything, he appreciated her effort to keep a positive front even though nothing about the given situation was even remotely positive. Some would have thought the gesture insensitive, but Myungsoo knew better than to belittle Arah’s emotional intelligence.

“Losing a friend like that must have been horrible.”

“It really was.” He agreed.

The question of whether or not to tell Yeseul was a no-brainer. Arah could never keep anything from her even if she tried, so it was better to let it all out in advance. Yeseul’s was significantly less thrilled than her significant other, her reaction ranging between genuine concern and shock, but she agreed to help out however she could. Myungsoo could tell that the story of Hoya’s capturing hit quite close to home and Yeseul more than anyone knew the importance of getting him out of there alive.

And so Myungsoo arrived at the clinic that morning accompanied by Arah, both unsure about what to expect from the meeting and thus inevitably nervous. They were greeted by Dr.Hwang, a scrawny man in his early thirties who bowed politely before hurrying off into the other room, allowing Sungjong and Sungyeol to welcome them into the humble guest room. Sungyeol held onto his manners and tried his hardest not to gawk at the stunning young starlet, but she didn’t seem fazed. This was Sungyeol’s first time meeting Myungsoo as well, but he was almost as disinterested in his presence as Arah was with his.

Sungjong was feeling unavoidably uneasy about the strange get-together, one of the reasons being that this was the first official acquaintance Myungsoo held with this part of Sungjong’s life (since the other meeting Myungsoo held with Sunggyu were anything but conventional). It felt like two entirely different realities meeting at some sort of a bizarre equinox, and Sungjong couldn’t help but fret response to the merger.

Pleasantries were exchanged and soon enough the foursome occupied the same table Sungjong and Sungyeol hovered over during many sleepless nights and raking their minds for a solution to their impossible situation. But this time they had an operable plan that could actually work, and Sungjong was cautiously optimistic.

Sungyeol had mapped out three possible locations in which Hoya might be held, the main option being a butchery in central Seoul. It was a small establishment just on the main street but it was quite well known, and not only due to its high quality produce. It was advertised that it imports and exports all kinds of international and local meats, the main source and consumer being Japan. The talk of the owners being a part of the Japanese mafia were soon to surface, and though Sungyeol wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, the rumors were seemingly solid and his blueprints pointed out that the shop had an irregularly large cellar, or in other words- just enough initiative.

The only problem was that the butchery seemed to always be open, even in the early morning hours, which on one hand meant that there was more going on there than just a meat trade, but on the other it meant that there wasn’t an opening to retrieve Hoya without getting noticed. And that’s where Arah comes in.

The plan was for Myungsoo to enter the shop as a customer and memorize the interior of the place, because Sungyeol’s blueprints couldn’t reveal every detail about its layout, and that night they would all come back and scout for Hoya. Arah would distract whoever would inhabit the floor of the shop while the others remove Hoya from wherever he’s kept. Of course there was the chance that Hoya wouldn’t be there, but they only had one opportunity to pull this off, and it had to be precise.

Myungsoo and Arah listened intently as Sungyeol rolled out the optimal sequence of events, nodding when the matter related specifically to them. It wasn’t very elaborate of a plan, but neither was their previous one and yet its consequences were dire. This time they were relying on brains rather than brawn, and Sungjong hoped that would be enough.

“And I want to thank both of you for taking part in this,” Sungyeol concluded once every detail had been discussed. “I know this isn’t an easy task so your help is much appreciated.”

Sungjong noted how Sungyeol tried to mimic Sunggyu’s tone and gestures from when he spoke at their Muhnaui meetings, though he wasn’t sure if Sungyeol himself was aware of that. It looked a bit out of place because with Sunggyu gone the “reign” was most likely to have been given to Dongwoo or Woohyun, but neither of them were there to accept the role. The void Sunggyu left was irreplaceable and that thought made Sungjong’s chest ache, but he cast that thought away by averting his attention to Sungyeol’s ever wandering eyes.  He seemed to have been using most of his effort to divide his speech equally between the listeners but his gaze kept refocusing unequivocally on Arah, and quite bluntly so. Sungjong held in a laugh and Arah seemed to be quite amused as well.

“Don’t mention it,” She replied, fighting a smile of her own. “Consider this a favor for a friend.”

Sungyeol went on to turn tomato red, and Sungjong didn’t let him live it down for the rest of the night once their guests left. Sungyeol denied the accusation profusely, but his renewed blush gave him away immediately, and Sungjong laughed like he hadn’t laughed in weeks. The sensation was almost foreign to him, but the sight of Sungyeol’s flaming ears was enough to send him into a fit. Sungyeol himself joined in eventually, though with some reluctance, but Sungjong relished on it nonetheless. The last few days had been hell and this moment of lightheartedness, even if somewhat forced, was so very necessary for them both.

He wiped a stray tear from his eye once he calmed down, a smile still embellished on his face. He had the urge to sigh but he fought it, afraid that it’d wipe the smile away. He hesitated to let go of the unexpected sense of joy just yet, but reality came calling when Dr. Hwang reappeared to update them on Dongwoo’s and Woohyun’s vitals. Nothing had changed, but the mere mention of his recovering friends managed to ground Sungjong and remind him that he had nothing to laugh about.

The room fell eerily silent once Dr. Hwang excused himself to tend for his patients, leaving the men to their thoughts. They were each staring off into space when Sungjong spoke up, his voice almost offensive in the thick silence.

“Go get some sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Sungyeol’s eyes shot up to look at Sungjong, startled, but then softened as if he’d remembered how tired he was.

“You too.”He responded. He then moved back to ease into his self acclaimed dentist’s chair, settling into a comfortable sleeping position. Sungjong had tried to convince Sungyeol to go home every once in a while and get a good night’s rest, but his advice was meaningless since he’d yet to follow it himself.

He found himself pondering whether he should spend the night here again or head on home for the first time since they arrived to the clinic. He’d visited his house for fresh clothes and a shower every once in a while but most of his days were spent at Dr. Hwang’s, asleep on one of the couches beside Sungyeol.

He eventually decided to head on home, because Dr. Hwang was unmarried and a very gracious host, but Sungjong didn’t want to be too much of a burden with his presence. He was making his way down the dark street when he wondered how many of these cases Dr. Hwang had witnessed throughout his career. Because his professionalism was superb, but that only meant that he’d had some sort of experience in the matter. He then promised himself to thank the doctor again when this all ends, and perhaps make him into a friend as well, instead of just a link.

Sungjong shut the door behind him and stepped into the familiarity of his home. The air was slightly stale from having the windows shut for so long, allowing specs of moonlit dust to swirl freely in the vicinity. It felt strange to suddenly be alone, the house seeming empty without the presence of at least two more people in it, but perhaps this solidarity was all Sungjong needed at that moment. His dull footsteps echoed a little too loudly in his ears as he entered his bedroom to plop down on his bed. He then proceeded to fall asleep immediately, forgetting to remove his wind mussed clothes.

Myungsoo stood on the opposite side of the butchery, sticking out like a sore thumb as dozens of busy by passers whooshed past him on their way to their errands. It was a hectic Monday morning and yet Myungsoo was completely motionless, leaning against a wall of a pub and waited for his cue. Sungjong and Sungyeol were busy setting up a game of Go near the entrance, seated on two small stools and leaning over a table just as small, arranging the pieces over a tattered board. A few moments later they were ready to play, and so was Myungsoo.

He crossed the streets just as Sungyeol made his first move, and left the men to their seemingly casual activity. Myungsoo tried to convince them that he didn’t need their surveillance, but they insisted that they should at least watch from afar just in case something goes wrong. Their presence was comforting on one hand, providing the knowledge that they were there to back him up in the worst case scenario, and yet he couldn’t explain why he felt so nervous under their watching eye.

Myungsoo stepped into the butchery, triggering a soft chime from a bell just above the threshold, and was greeted by a strong smell of fresh meat. This level of the shop was quite small, occupied mostly by a large glass case displaying samples of the meat on sale on one side, and a small wrapping and weighing station along with a fancy cash register on the other. The line to the cashier was quite lengthy, but Myungsoo used the spare time to look around the shop and take in as many details as he could.

The walls were filled with framed newspaper articles, mostly consisting of gracious reviews and five starred praises, as well as various diplomas and certificates notifying the customers of the quality and cleanliness of the place. If Myungsoo hadn’t known any better he would have considered it a fairly maintained business, but he knew that there was more to it than that. His eyes then rested upon a heavy metal door, possibly leading to the larger freezer where the rest of the produce was kept, and marked it as his target.

By the time of his discovery, the line had sped up and it was just a matter of time before he found himself standing in front of a young cashier with the most nimble pair of hands. The acne on his face gave his young age away, but his swift and precise motions had nothing inexperienced or awkward about them. He sliced and twisted and folded the meat into perfect rectangles of wax paper, tied them up with a short slice of string and looped it around the moist package until it was tight and firm before bagging it and handing it to the customer with a curt bow. The longer Myungsoo stared the more it looked like a choreographed dance, and he almost forgot what he wanted to say when it was finally his turn to order.

“Good morning,” Myungsoo greeted in Japanese, smiling politely at the boy.

The cashier grinned in response to Myungsoo’s slightly accented pleasantry and returned it in perfect Japanese, wiping his hands on his stained apron.

“How can I help you, ahjussi?” He asked in Korean, and Myungsoo couldn’t help but be taken aback by the strange title. How old did he look? And how old was the boy to have addressed Myungsoo as such?

“I’m conducting somewhat of a large dinner party in a couple of days,” Myungsoo chose to ignore the cashier’s peculiar comment.”And I’d like to surprise my guests with a large variety of meats.”

“How many people are we talking about?”

“Oh, about a hundred or so, perhaps even two.”

The boy’s face paled in response.

“And what kind of meats were you considering for the event?” He managed to stutter.

“All of them.”

The cashier went wide eyed before turning his head in the direction of the metal door and calling for someone without breaking his eye contact with Myungsoo, clearly perplexed by the odd request.

A few moments later the door was swung open with a groan by a short, yet sturdy looking man. He was wearing an apron as well, though his was significantly dirtier than the cashier’s with what seemed to be dried blood.

“This ahjussi wants to make an order for every meat we have in stock—“

“Oh! No, no…” Myungsoo chuckled. “I’m just throwing a big party and I want to treat the attendants with something unique. I could really use some recommendations.”

“Certainly!” The short man exclaimed, delighted with the hefty order. “Come after me, I’ll show you our latest, freshest arrivals. I hope you’re into imported goods.”

The man gestured towards the door, and Myungsoo smiled widely in response. “I most certainly am.”

Myungsoo later told Sungjong and Sungyeol that the freezer was in fact built as a large corridor with many different metal doors on each side, and that every door lead to a secluded storage unit filled with meat. He went on to explain that all the entrances had a small window overlooking a part of the room, except for one door which was completely opaque, concealing whatever the content of the room was with its metallic exterior.

The butcher had gone into every room and pointed at different slabs of meat hanging on hooks from the ceiling, explaining and marveling as a salesman does, but he didn’t enter that particular blocked-off room. Myungsoo acted on an impulse, deciding to test the butchery owner’s reaction by placing his hand on the metallic rod serving as a knob, and he wasn’t disappointed with the result.

The short man practically jumped in front of Myungsoo, coming between him and the mysterious door with a forced smile before carefully leading him away from it and rambling something along the lines of “our cellar is highly untidy”. Myungsoo left the abattoir with a promise to consider the butcher’s generous offer, though in actuality he would do no such thing.

Sungjong looked both troubled and relieved by the new bit of information, his suspicion seemingly confirmed.

“Were you recognized by anyone there?” He asked back at the clinic, removing his coat to hang it by the door.

“Thankfully no, but I was prepared either way.”

“That’s good.” Sungyeol chimed in from his chair, already leaning back in it with his eyes closed. He looked like he was about to be mummified and placed in a sarcophagus, but apparently he was still somewhat alert.

Myungsoo felt like his part had gone quite smoothly. He wasn’t alarmed by the fact that he wasn’t recognized, having prepared a dialogue for both scenarios, but more than anything he was glad to be useful. His guilt for Sunggyu’s death was still very much prominent in his mind, despite Sungjong’s futile attempts of quieting his conscience. He felt like he owed his contribution to Sunggyu, because his previous attempt at helping eventually brought to his demise. But it wasn’t only a matter of redemption; Myungsoo knew that he couldn’t sit this one out. He was already in too deep, so he might as well dive.

“So everything’s set then.” Sungjong concluded decisively. Dr. Hwang was out on an errand, allowing Sungjong to feel significantly more comfortable in the sterile yet homely environment. He moved to the couch and sunk into the cushions with a sigh, contemplative. “We meet at midnight.”