The city was shrouded by darkness, the half-moon illuminating the world below in a pale light. All around Kyungsoo, the city slept; only the dull roar of freight trains beginning their long journeys to remote parts of the country, their heavy loads towing along behind them was the only noise that disturbed the otherwise silent morning.

The air was crisp, ice cold, and Kyungsoo would watch in mild amusement each time he exhaled, his warm breath crystalising in front of his eyes before fading into the morning chill. The lamp lights flickered, catching the tiny droplets of dew that clung to the grass around it and glistening, the lamp light refracting in a million tiny spectrums of colour.

Wrapping a crimson scarf around his neck in an attempt to ward off the cold, Kyungsoo stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Winter was always going to be the most difficult season, but Kyungsoo was thankful that it wasn’t yet snowing. Snow was bound to make his commute to work a slow, painful one.

Averaging about five hours of sleep a night, he was certain that, once the snow began to fall, he would get even less, having to rise even earlier in the mornings to make it to the kitchens on time.

Next to no sleep coupled with long, physically demanding hours in the kitchens of the Hyde, South Korea’s most luxurious hotel and casino really took its toll on Kyungsoo. Large, dark circles lined his eyes, his irises had long lost their sparkle. But not once did Kyungsoo wish for his grueling, repetitive lifestyle to change.

He was an apprentice. An apprentice at the Hyde. Kyungsoo knew he was more than lucky to be offered an apprentice at such a world renown, luxurious hotel; its grandeur took his breath away each time he made his way through its twisting labyrinth of hallways towards the main kitchens.

With its lush carpets and high ceilings, beautiful paintings in elegant, gilded frames; its thirty floors including theatre, shopping complex and casino, the Hyde was the spectacle of sophistication. And Kyungsoo couldn’t see himself anywhere else.

This was his dream, everything he had worked towards. This was his life. And Kyungsoo wouldn’t want to change it for anything else.

The bus crested the hill at the end of the street, its bright headlights shining brightly against the otherwise navy backdrop. Kyungsoo got to his feet, swinging his heavy work bag over one shoulder. Moving out of the bus shelter, he waited until the bus was completely visible before flagging it down.

Slowing to a halt, the driver offered Kyungsoo a wary smile; it was always the same driver that crested the hill at four thirty five in the morning; the same driver who would always offer Kyungsoo a smile, regardless of how tired they were, and Kyungsoo would always return it. The two were quite familiar with one another and often would exchange a few words before lapsing into companionable silence.

Kyungsoo sat at the very front of the bus; despite it being empty, he always felt safer there, next to the driver. That way, if he was to ask the driver something as simple as ‘How was your day?’ Kyungsoo would be able to see his expression, the same small smile that he was so accustomed to. The same simple reply.

It was the little things that would make surviving on little sleep more bearable.

With his head bowed and eyes narrowed determinedly Kyungsoo worked on finely slicing the vegetables in the lead up to preparations for the hotel patrons’ lunch. He had been at work for just over three hours, breakfast having only been served ten minutes prior.

It was Hyde policy to begin meal preparations a good six hours before the meal was to be served; in fact, Kyungsoo was certain that was how it worked in most hotel kitchens. If one wasn’t to prepare, they would fall short, and the Head Chef wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“Kyungsoo!” he barked from across the kitchen where he was supervising the broiling of the broth some moments before. “What are you doing? I thought I told you to julienne the carrots, not jardinière them!”

His thick French accent and fast speech rolled together, making it extremely hard for Kyungsoo to understand what he was saying. When Kyungsoo didn’t respond, he crossed the kitchen with a huff, his eyes narrowed into thin slits.

Placing the razor sharp knife on the chopping board, Kyungsoo watched it as it reflected the bright lights of the kitchen. The Head Chef stopped next to Kyungsoo, seizing up the knife and brandishing it aggressively.

“Do they look julienne to you?” he snapped and Kyungsoo shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry,” he apologised softly, not daring to meet the Head Chef’s wild eyes. “I’ll try my best next time.”

“Next time?” snorted the Head Chef in astonishment. “You should consider yourself lucky that you are not turned from my kitchens! This is not the first time that you have had your head in the clouds, Kyungsoo! Mister Kim does not tolerate slacking staff. Tell me, Kyungsoo. Do you know who Mister Kim is?”

“Y-yes,” Kyungsoo stuttered, lifting his gaze from the chopping board and almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t. The Head Chef’s eyes were ablaze, his cheeks and round nose were flaming from a mix of anger and the heat from half a dozen stove tops and ovens. “He owns the Hyde.”

“And,” the Head Chef snarled, “he is responsible for your employment. You do not want to wrong him, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kyungsoo wanted nothing more than to disappear at that very moment. It was his own fault for allowing his focus to slacken; he had only been an apprentice at the Hyde for just over a month and he didn’t want to jeopardize his future. But the lack of sleep was very quickly catching up on him.

The Head Chef let out a loud sigh, dropping the knife onto the cutting board.

“There is a breakfast banquet already set up on one of the trolleys,” he said at last. “Deliver it to the room it is assigned to; you will find the room and floor number written on the receipt. When you’re done, go to the storeroom in the basement; there are a few boxes of crockery. The dining room needs replenishing.”

Offering the Head Chef a simple nod to show that he understood, Kyungsoo bowed his head in apology.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I will get on that right away!”

He turned to weave his way through the many kitchen staff towards where the breakfast banquet waited, ready on the trolley for delivery when the Head Chef caught him roughly by his shoulder. Kyungsoo froze, looking, confused, back over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Kyungsoo,” the Head Chef began. “Don’t come back into my kitchen until you get your head out of the clouds and you’re ready to work.”

Kyungsoo felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, his ears turning pink. Offering the Head Chef a quick nod, he hurried through the busy kitchen towards the trolley.

Yes, Kyungsoo sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump. With a sharp push, the heavy trolley, laden with food gave a loud creak and rolled forward. He wouldn’t change his life for anything.   

Kyungsoo let out a quiet sigh of relief as the elevator came to a shuddering halt on the twenty-fourth floor. After the initial lurch, he was almost certain he had left his stomach back on the fifth floor, along with the kitchens, his pride and a very annoyed Head Chef.

The employee elevator was a lot less smooth than that of the Hyde Hotel guests; far less extravagant, as well. Made out of a dull aluminum, the single light flickered on and off, dully illuminating the bare interior. The guests’ elevator was lined with lush carpet – not linoleum like the employee one – with a glass interior and a suit clad operator with unparalleled manners. 

Giving the trolley laden with a breakfast banquet a sharp push, Kyungsoo closed his eyes as it wobbled over the tiny gap between the elevator and the hallway floor. After running his eyes quickly over the trolley to make sure that nothing had spilled or fallen off, he started down the elegantly furnished hallway, the rich carpet felt like sponge under his toes.

 The gilded room numbers glittered in the light of the hallway; Kyungsoo eyed them off as he passed, constantly re-consulting the room number that was scrawled messily on a scrap of paper.  Room 748.

736 … 739 … Ah, at last!

Kyungsoo knocked lightly on the door, waiting for it to swing open. Puffing out his cheeks, Kyungsoo reached for the door once more, but before he had the chance to knock for a second time, the door swung open and Kyungsoo was met with the warm brown eyes of Jessica Jung, one of Korea’s most high profile faces.

Kyungsoo’s mouth hung open in shock. He knew that the Hyde attracted the rich and the famous, but he seldom got to leave the kitchens. This was, in fact, his first trip to any floor higher than the fifth.

“Good morning,” he stammered uncertainly. “Your …” he trailed off, stunned, managing a small gesture towards the banquet laden trolley.

A delighted smile crept across Jessica’s face as she ran her eyes over the trolley’s contents.

“Wonderful,” she beamed, adjusting the belt on her satin robe. “Thank you. Just into the dining room, please.”

Stepping aside, Jessica let Kyungsoo wheel the trolley into her executive suite, quickly moving in front of him to lead the way into the dining room. Kyungsoo had never dreamed any suite could be as big as this; one room alone was almost the same size as his entire home (which wasn’t quite difficult as Kyungsoo lived in a tiny one bed apartment that one could cross in five steps.)

The floor to ceiling windows showed a spectacular panoramic view of Seoul that stretched out beyond the horizon. The walls were elegantly furnished with an array of oil paintings and guided mirrors. Were all hotel suites this spacious, Kyungsoo wondered, or did they only increase in size the closer they got to the Penthouse?

Kyungsoo knew he was staring, trying to take in his surroundings as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t help but feel rude. Lowering his gaze to the floor, he trudged after Jessica and, after a polite bow, he hurried from the suite once more, closing the door quickly behind him.

He had remembered some of the other hotel staff talking about a three week long event that occurred on a yearly basis; the Hyde was always the host of this event. Celebrities and well known faces would flood the Hyde and a glimpse – no matter how fleeting – at their favourite stars was something the staff of the Hyde looked forward to most.

Kyungsoo bubbled at the thought of working at the Hyde for the very first time during this event. If Jessica Jung was here, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what other sort of celebrities would be staying here for the events duration, too.

But Kyungsoo was an apprentice chef – a kitchen hand. He knew that it was by chance (and for the wrong reasons) that he was allowed out of the kitchen today. It wouldn’t happen again. Kyungsoo knew that he wouldn’t get a chance to witness the Hyde bustling with celebrities and well known faces. He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Folding his arms behind his back, Kyungsoo made his way slowly down the winding hallways on the twenty-fourth floor as he headed towards the elevator. The Head Chef had assigned him to the basement after that delivery. But there was no harm in taking in the elegant furnishings that the kitchen lacked whilst en route.

The muffled sound of voices reached Kyungsoo’s ears and he frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The floor was certainly lively for this time of morning.

A glass shattered from inside the room, followed shortly after by a muffled cry. What was this? Did somebody slip over? Kyungsoo felt a wave of panic wash over him as he soundlessly crept closer to the suite in which the noise was coming from. The door was ajar; a fault in handle allowed for a tiny gap, no more than two centimeters, for Kyungsoo to peer through.

His immediate reaction was to first inspect the area; perhaps the patron had knocked into something – or slipped. He wanted to make sure that they were in fact in some kind of pain before he barged right in.

But Kyungsoo’s eyes fell onto something he wasn’t quite expecting. The couches had been pushed backwards against the wall; instead, in the center of the room stood a lone coffee table, surrounded by a dozen men clad in suits.

Did one of them hurt themselves? Kyungsoo wondered.

Another loud muffle echoed throughout the room and Kyungsoo could have sworn it sounded frantic.

The men in suits stepped apart, revealing a man, covered in blood and gagged with his arms bound, kneeling in front of the coffee table. Kyungsoo held back a scream as his eyes moved from the bloodied man to the table; an assortment of guns and various weapons lay atop it.

Kyungsoo felt his heart rate quicken. This man was in danger, but Kyungsoo knew that if he were to burst into the room in an attempt to rescue him, he, too would probably end up dead. He had to call for help! Security, the CEO, the Head Chef - anyone! Peeling his eyes away from the tiny gap in the door, Kyungsoo felt the adrenaline rush through his body. He had to save this man somehow.

A hand covered Kyungsoo’s mouth, something steely – a gun – pressed into the small of his back and immediately, Kyungsoo’s blood ran cold, his face draining of colour.

The hand moves first from Kyungsoo’s mouth to his throat, long fingers wrapping around his neckerchief. in a sharp breath, Kyungsoo opened his mouth to scream. His body was swung around roughly, his back slamming against the hallway wall.

Terrified, Kyungsoo lifted his gaze to meet his attacker, and almost immediately he regretted it. With a tall, well-built stature, the man had hair the colour of dark chocolate that fell almost perfectly in front of his angular face; his round, full lips were tugged upwards into a snarl. But what Kyungsoo found the most terrifying about the man was the unmistakable look of cruelty and darkness he held in his eyes.

The man arched an eyebrow tauntingly before he shook his head. Slipping the gun back into its holster, he heaved Kyungsoo from the wall, shoving him towards the door.

“Walk,” he commanded, his voice callous.

Kyungsoo’s legs felt as though they would give way at any moment. His body trembled with fear but slowly, he managed to put one foot in front of the other, obeying the man as he entered the suite, his head hung low in fright.

With a hand still firmly fixed around Kyungsoo’s neckerchief, the man dragged Kyungsoo across the room, throwing him – hard – against the coffee table. Quickly throwing out his hands to steady himself, Kyungsoo prayed his hands wouldn’t come into contact with a blade.

Kyungsoo felt his knees shake violently, his eyes fixed on the ground. He dared not look up at the men, nor did he chance stealing a glance at the bloodied captive beside him. Were they going to torture him, too? Was he going to suffer the same fate as the man, bound, gagged and broken that knelt next to him?

One of the men in suits snorted, eyeing Kyungsoo coldly.

“Jongin,” he said, shifting his gaze from Kyungsoo to the man that had dragged him into the room. “Who is that?”

Jongin shrugged lightly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“No idea,” Jongin said in the same callous voice that sent shivers down Kyungsoo’s spine. “Speak, kid.”

He gave Kyungsoo a sharp prod in the lower back with the toe of his boot and Kyungsoo closed his eyes. It would do him no good to disobey now. His life was on the line and Kyungsoo was ready to do almost anything in order to survive.

“Kyungsoo,” he stuttered, his trembling hands clenched tightly together.

A soft laugh escaped Jongin’s lips as he circled the table, a laugh that carried no trace of humour. With his eyes fixed on Kyungsoo, Jongin’s lips tugged upwards into a cold smirk; he wasn’t completely satisfied with Kyungsoo’s level of fear yet.

“Well, Kyungsoo,” he said softly. “You’re not going to tell anyone about what you saw here today.”

“How can you be so sure?” one of the men asked, jabbing a finger in Kyungsoo’s direction. “He looks like the type to squeal.”

“Why don’t you just save him the trouble?” another suggested, gesturing to the coffee table laden with knives, guns and – Kyungsoo squinted – tiny devices that reminded him oddly of vices. Were they used to crush bones?

Stooping down, the man hovered his hand atop each firearm in contemplation. “We could always shut him up now.”

Kyungsoo couldn’t look. Pinching his eyes shut tightly, he drew in a deep breath – and waited.

Jongin’s venomous chuckle echoed throughout the cavernous room. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he paused behind Kyungsoo, slipping his gun from the holster on his hip.

“Do you want to know why I’m so sure that Kyungsoo won’t mention this to anyone?”

Without waiting for the others to respond, he raised his gun, resting the barrel against the back of the broken hostage. The hostage’s eyes widened in fright and he let out a choking sob, muffled by the rag that gagged him.

Something warm splattered against Kyungsoo’s cheek and he felt the bile begin to bubble in his esophagus. It was as though, in that split second, the world had crumbled beneath him. His eardrums felt like they had just exploded; his stomach churned sickeningly.

Kyungsoo didn’t hear the dull thud of the broken hostage slump against the floor, or the cold, bloodcurdling laughter from the other men’s lips. He didn’t feel the warmth of the blood as it pooled around his knees. He didn’t feel anything but numbness.

Jongin smirked. This was the response he was looking for. Side stepping around the fallen man, he crouched next to Kyungsoo, his icy hand gripping Kyungsoo’s jaw and turning his head.

“Open your eyes,” Jongin said softly.

Kyungsoo clenched his jaw, his eyes pinching shut tighter.  Jongin’s grip on him tightened.

“Open them,” he repeated. Slowly, reluctantly, Kyungsoo did as he was told. With eyes wide with fright, he stared into Jongin’s; they were empty, cold. Did this man really care so little for the lives of others?

“Now tell me,” Jongin said gently, his thumb brushing against Kyungsoo’s cheek, smearing the blood that had splattered onto him. “What did you see?”

Kyungsoo tried his best to shake his head, his jaw firmly locked in Jongin’s strong grip.

“N-nothing,” he whimpered in fright.

Jongin’s lips tugged upwards into a sinister smirk. “Good. Tell anyone what you saw and you will end up just like him. Now get out of my sight.”

Kyungsoo tripped over his own feet as he scampered down the hallway; he had to get as far away as possible and didn’t want to risk waiting for the elevator just in case Jongin changed his mind. Heading for the stair well, he started down the flights of stairs until he was certain he was a safe distance away.

It was there, in the darkness of the stairwell that Kyungsoo tucked his legs up to his chest and sobbed. His body still shook violently whenever he thought back to what had happened. But he couldn’t go get help. Not now.

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure for how long he sat and cried, but by the time he had finally calmed down long enough to think, he heard the echoing sound of footsteps, some flights above. Was that Jongin coming to kill him?

The breath caught in Kyungsoo’s throat and he got shakily to his feet. He was on the seventeenth level – the casino. He could disappear into the crowd and use the elevator on the western side of the Hotel.

Passing quickly through the exit, making sure the heavy fire door swung shut silently behind him, Kyungsoo entered the casino. Almost immediately, his mouth fell open. It wasn’t the loud music or the strings of colourful, flashing lights designed to lure patrons in that caught Kyungsoo’s attention. It was the sheer amount of people that bustled about, talking to one another; each one in a colourful frock or suit – something gold draped around each one of their necks. A mask.

There must be a masquerade ball this afternoon, Kyungsoo decided quickly as he pushed his way through the ocean of people. Something grand, spectacular, unforgettable  for the opening day for the three week long event; true Hyde style. Kyungsoo was certain that Mister Kim, the owner of the Hyde would have spared no expense to ensure his guests enjoyed their time here.

Kyungsoo’s eyes darted from patron to patron as he squeezed his way through the casino – all around him, the faces of celebrities he admired; people of great importance – billionaires.

 Kyungsoo flinched as he bumped into a greasy looking man. His greying hair was slicked back, the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. Bowing quickly, Kyungsoo apologised.

The man arched his eyebrows, a teasing smirk playing across his lips.

“I’m sure I can think of quite a few ways for you to make it up to me.”

Kyungsoo shook his head quickly, holding his hands out in front of him to distance himself from the man as much as possible.

“N-no,” he stuttered quickly. Turning from the man, he shoved his way through the patrons, determined to lose both Jongin and the billionaire in the crowd.

The basement. Jongin wouldn’t follow him down there, right? At least there Kyungsoo could be alone. He would be able to let his mind run blank. The Head Chef had ordered him to organize the crockery in the basement – he wasn’t to return to the kitchen until he was ready to work.  Kyungsoo was certain that he wouldn’t return for a long time.

But it would be too risky to go outside now. What if Jongin or one of those men were watching from their window? They would just shoot him down. Kyungsoo would be a sitting duck!

Reaching the elevator, Kyungsoo let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding onto. The moment the glass doors slid open, he disappeared inside. The elevator operator shot him a quizzical look. Employees weren’t supposed to use this elevator.

“Basement please,” Kyungsoo said quietly. The operator nodded once, tapping the very last button on.

“Did you have a kitchen malfunction?” he asked after a short pause. Kyungsoo stared up at him.

“Pardon?”

“A kitchen malfunction,” the elevator operator repeated, gesturing first to the hem of Kyungsoo’s pants, then to his face. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Did you slip in tomato paste or something?”