"Come on, just eat it."  Luhan held out a spoon, which Sehun expertly avoided.  "Stop playing around."

"No!" 

"Sehun," Luhan groaned.  "I still have a bunch of packing to do. I don't have time for this."

"Packing for what?" 

"Uh."  Realizing his slip, Luhan suddenly avoided Sehun's curious gaze.  " Nothing." 

"Mom says you're going somewhere exciting," Sehun insisted. " Is that true?"

"She said that?  Well." Luhan rolled his eyes. "I guess she'd think so."

"Where? Tell me!"

"It's...a secret."  

"What do you mean?  Are you going on a secret mission?"

"Right, exactly.  It's really big. That's why I can't talk about it."

"Like Dad did!"

There was a sudden silence, as Luhan clenched his teeth. Then, "...yes.  Sort of."

"That means you might be gone for a long time, right?"

"Well..."

Can I come with you?" Sehun sat up in sudden hope.  "I've watched all the Exo-venture episodes; I know how to be a hero! I could be your sidekick!"

"No."

"No?  But every hero needs a sidekick!"

"You're too little. You'll just get in the way."  Sehun opened his mouth to object, but Luhan beat him to it.  "Speaking of adventure, don't you want to hear Suho's story?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Besides, how can you come with me if you're still sick?" Luhan held up the spoon threateningly.  "Drink up."  Sehun sighed.  

"Fine."  He took a reluctant sip of the syrup and gagged.  Luhan patted his head.

Suho's relief morphed into terror once he had a closer look at his rescuer's arm.

“You're part of the Moxe!"

Masked Man glanced down at the tattoo peeking out of his ripped sleeve.  He pulled some crazy glue out of his pocket and applied it to the fabric, patching up the hole. "Better?"

The sight of the glue bottle only served to remind Suho of Baekhyun's sticky demise.  "I’m not going anywhere with you! You're a murderer!"

Instead of getting upset, Masked Man seemed to genuinely consider Suho's words.

“Byun Baekhyun and his friends have killed people too,” he said, finally.  “In fact, assassination is how they make their living.  Doesn’t that make them murderers as well?”

“I…well, yes... "

"Don’t you have bodyguards, back home?  Would you consider them murderers?” 

"Well," Suho sniffed.  "I've never seen them actually kill someone..."

"But they would.  That's what they're paid to do.  What about your parents?  They're the ones paying them.  If you find my killing so awful, aren't your parents just as bad?"

Suho fell silent and scowled.

“I know your type,” Masked Man scoffed.  “Wealthy, naive, raised in an ivory tower.  Your only concept of morality comes from books and philosophy classes.  You know nothing about true struggle and what people have to do to survive the world.”

“That’s not true!”  Suho clenched his fists.  How dare some random nobody insult him and his family!  

“Your fiance and his family also go to the same great lengths to protect their business.” Masked Man continued, warming up to his point.  “And yet, you would still marry him.”

“My personal life none of your business!" Suho folded his arms.  "Look, just let me call Mother and Father.  I promise they'll deliver you your $1 million.  You don't need to accompany me any longer."

"What, and leave you alone here?  No, I’ll be taking you home. This country isn't exactly a safe place, not even in a nice hotel like this."

"Why do you even care?" Suho retorted, even as he shuffled closer to the Masked Man.  He glanced nervously around him, as though a mugger would jump out any second.

"Let's just say that after studying your face on all the newspapers for so long, I've grown partial to it.”  Masked Man leaned closer to study Suho’s face; Suho suddenly felt like a mouse being sized up by a cat.  “I’ve heard and read quite a lot about your...assets. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal at first.  But now that I've finally seen you in person, I think the newspapers have got it wrong.  You aren’t as beautiful as your mother."

Suho frowned, his vanity slightly hurt.

"...You’re even more beautiful.”

Suho’s eyes widened.   He wasn't unused to compliments, but he didn't expect them from a killer who thus far had treated him only with scorn.   Masked Man bent closer, and his lips quirked into a smile at Suho's flushed face.  He reached out a hand to Suho's cheek, and Suho found himself shivering...

out of disgust, that is.   Yes, disgust!  

"Get your hands off of me, you filthy criminal!"

"As you wish."  Masked Man drew back.  Suho wiped his face free of invisible germs, ignoring the strange way his heart was beating.

“You’re just like the rest of them,” Suho said stiffly.  “People only like me because of my face or my money.  So what, if you think I'm beautiful?  That doesn't make you special at all."

Masked Man stared at him with oddly burning eyes. "I could change your mind."

"Ew! What a creep!  Make him leave Suho alone!"

"Oh, come on.  You didn't like Xiumin, now you don't like Masked Man either?"

"No way!  He's too evil!"

"Well you know, a lot of people like the bad boy types." 

"Yeah, I know," Sehun grumped.  "I remember that Jongdae guy."

"Wh-h-you--" Luhan spluttered.  He rolled his eyes.  "Whatever.  Let's just get back to the story."

Not to worry, readers.  Suho, being the good and sensible boy that he was, soon regained his senses and saw past Masked Man's pretty words and captivating eyes. 

"No, thank you.  Try all you want, but you'll never have my heart," Suho declared.  "I gave it away years ago, and it perished in a train crash along with my love."  

 But if Suho was looking for sympathy or praise, he didn't receive it.  Masked Man laughed in his face.

"You surprise me again, Suho Kim.  You lie so beautifully through that angelic face."

"I'm not lying!"

“I've read the tabloids about you and your so-called ‘love.’  I know you hopped onto the biggest bank account you could find, only a year after his death. You claim to have loved him?  The only thing your heart knows is wealth and fame."

“You don’t know anything at all!”

"Oh, really?  I know the train crash you speak of.  I was there myself, during the attack."

"You what?"  Suho clenched his fists.  For a few seconds, all he could hear was a roaring white noise, a cloud of pure hate.  It had been so long since he had felt so strongly about anything.  "He was just an innocent boy, and your group killed him!"

"Yes," Masked Man agreed easily.  "I remember.  Before the bomb was set off, he begged for his life.  He said that he had someone back home waiting for him."  Suho gave a sharp inhale.  "But look on the bright side.  At least he never survived to find out just how faithful his lover turned out to be."

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Suho hissed.  Masked Man continued on, unperturbed.

"What a fool boys like your dead boyfriend are. Naive.  Blind.  Simple-minded." They had made their way to the main staircase now.  "Letting him die was probably a blessing--"

"That’s it!  Be quiet, you pig!"  Suho couldn’t take it any longer.  Furious, he shoved the man down the steps with surprising force.   “I should have YOU die too!  Never come near me again!" 

Masked Man clearly had not been expecting the push, and he rolled down in a flurry of black and silver.

“Not…my………style!” The rolling blur cried.

"Oh my gosh," Suho gasped.  "Kris?"

Luhan grinned.  "Close your mouth, Sehun."

Suho was relieved to find that time and separation had not diminished Kris’ kissing skills.  Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would ever Kris' lips on his again, nor his strong embrace and familiar scent--

"Luhan! Stooooop!" 

...fine.  Due to certain IMMATURE audiences, I'll skip over this part.   Anyway, after kissing and...some other stuff, Kris and Suho calmed down and were ready to hash out their grievances. And with three years having gone by, with an engagement and a supposed death, there was definitely a lot to be hashed.  

“I thought you were dead!”

"My death was faked," Kris explained. "It was safer, that way. The Moxe didn't want to risk people from my past trying to find me.  That’s why I didn't tell you who I was, at first."

The Moxe.  In all the excitement of the past half-hour, Suho had forgotten about the tattoo.  "Does that mean...you're actually part of the Moxe?"

"Yes."  Kris straightened.  "We're trying to make Yuan a stronger, better place.  This country has suffered too long from instability. It needs a strong government, and that's we will provide."

"Strong government?  I'm sorry, are we talking about the same group?" Suho asked incredulously, recalling Tao's story.  "The Moxe kills people.  Innocent people.”

"It's unavoidable," Kris admitted.  "No great change comes without a price.  Do you think all the great leaders of the world never spilled blood to win wars and improve the country?  Whenever there's conflict, there will be blood shed.  You must have learned about it in your fancy school’s history classes."

"But it's not right!"

"Innocent people do get caught in the crossfires.  I know it’s difficult to understand...but that’s how the real world is. I don't live in a perfect fairytale bubble, like some."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"You have to admit, you've lead a charmed life."  Kris took Suho's hand.  "I'm not saying that it's a bad thing. I would gladly face the world's ugliness and protect you from having to witness it."

Suho yanked his hand out of Kris' hold. "I never asked you to run off and kill people for me!"

Kris frowned.  "It’s not just for you.  It's for me, too.”

“What?”

“My father was the former leader of the Moxe.  I inherited his title when I turned eighteen."

"...what?"

"Yeah. It's a long story.  Basically, there was a civil war in Yuan Land when my mom and dad died, so the Moxe sent me to Won so that I could grow up safe.  Mr. and Mrs. Han were in charge of monitoring me until I turned eighteen."  Kris faltered as Suho's expression grew more and more incredulous.   "I know it sounds like something out of a storybook, but it's true."

"And you're okay with all of this?”  Suho gestured to the surrounding air.  “Why would you want to run off to an undeveloped country?  They don't even have a functional stock market here!  What was so wrong with your life in Won?"

“Nothing!”

“You don’t have to do this, just because your father did!  If you wanted a better job, you only had to ask.”

“It's not that.  Suho,” Kris sighed.  “I know it sounds crazy, but please try to understand. For once, I feel like I have a purpose. For once, I didn't feel so...lost."

"How can you say that?" Suho asked in a small voice.  "I thought you had me."

Kris' expression softened.  "I did.  It was a different kind of loneliness, I guess."

"I see." 

Kris sighed as he observed Suho’s stony face. Suho had grown up with love, parents, and the secure knowledge of who he was--Kris shouldn't expect him to understand, right away.  "Look, it's been a long day.  Let's just get some rest, okay?  We can talk more tomorrow."

Suho tried not to give in to the hurt, resentment, and uneasiness inside of him.  It had been three years, after all.  Kris wasn't his poolboy anymore.  People changed. Or maybe, Suho had never really known Kris to begin with.

It’s true that you can never really know a person, even if that person is your boyfriend, poolboy, teacher, brother, doctor, or guinea pig.  Why else would friends, couples, and families that seem perfect together break up?  Why else would someone who was supposed to be there for you turn out to be a lying, useless, horrible, lazy, alcoholic jerk who you're a million times better without--

"Wait, Luhan!  What? You're talking too fast."

"...Oh.  Sorry.  Um, that part wasn't important anyway."

To be fair to Kris, sometimes you don't even know yourself all that well.  Especially when you can’t even remember the first ten years of your life.

For Kris, his early childhood was a void.   He didn't remember who he was, where he was from, and who his real parents were.   The doctor that often came to visit him believed that his lack of memory was due to some traumatic past incident.  Mrs. Han, one of the orphanage directors, would always look fondly but sadly at Kris like he was some sort of broken toy. Mr. Han, on the other hand, believed that Kris simply needed some toughening up, and he would always push and prod Kris to go outside and play with the other kids and attend public speaking and language and martial arts classes.  Kris learned to speak Wonnese, Yuannese, and Dollarese, and he grew to be quite good at swordfighting and mixed martial arts.  But while Kris worked hard to please his teachers, there was a hole inside of him that could never be completely filled, that made him feel empty inside.  Some days he felt the hole shrink a little.  Other days, it felt like a bottomless pit.

When he was fourteen, Mr. Han insisted that Kris stop moping around and get a job.  "It'll be good for you."

Kris wasn't exactly happy to be stuck doing chores for a rich, stuck up family.  It wasn't his style at all.  Mr., Mrs., and their "darling" Suho Kim weren't bad people, but they had a way of talking to Kris that made him feel like he was an awkward caterpillar among butterflies.  Especially Suho. It was always "Poolboy" this and "Poolboy" that.  Kris resented Suho.  Suho had a perfect face, perfect smile, perfect parents, perfect clothes, and a perfect life, and he didn't even appreciate it.  Suho probably never felt like there was a hole inside of him.

“Poolboy, here.”  Kris barely had a second to react before a backpack was dumped into his arms.  Suho and his school friend Minho pushed past him into the house.  “Cut me a slice of cake, please.”

"No sweets, Suho," Mrs. Kim interrupted, strolling by the kitchen.  "We're attending the gala next week, and we can't have you looking too chubby."

Suho's friend snickered, and Suho flushed.  Mrs. Kim was always nagging Suho about his appearance.  She didn't mean anything by it; as a straightforward executive who worked in the fashion industry, physical appearance just something she commented on as casually as the weather.  That's the thing with parents--they often say stuff without realizing the effect it might have on their kid's self esteem.  

"I had the maid buy some vegetables," Mrs. Kim continued as Suho glanced self consciously in the magnetic mirror int he fridge.  "They should be in the bottom drawer."

"Fine," Suho mumbled.  "But vegetables are boring..."

"Well, vegetables are what will get handsome young men and beautiful young women to look at you." Mrs. Kim patted him on the head.  "Not cake."

Suho sighed as Mrs. Kim left the kitchen, before realizing that Kris was still in the room.  "What are you looking at?" Suho demanded, face flushing.  "Poolboy, make me something to eat. I'll be in the study.  Come on, Minho."

“Cooking is Not. My. Style.” Kris gritted out.  He nearly broke Mrs. Kim's heirloom plates as he chopped up organic beets, organic carrots, organic cheese, organic celery, and organic blueberries.  He then arranged it so that it looked like a rainbow, and carried the plate to the adjacent room.

"Poolboy, took you long enough..." Suho looked up from his book and frowned at the plate.  "What's this?"

"I was trying to make it artistic," Kris muttered. "Besides, rainbows aren't boring, right?"

"Is that what it's supposed to be?" Minho stared down at his own plate. "It looks like an eyebrow."

"Clearly you don't appreciate art."  Kris rolled his eyes and stomped out the room.  Fine, whatever.  That was the last time he would try to be nice. 

"Poolboy, wait."  Kris sighed and turned around.  Suho walked up to him and held out a skewer, on which he'd speared one of each food item, in the correct color order.  "Here, have some."  He smiled shyly up at Kris. 

Suho might be a brat, but his smile made him look like an angel.  Kris snatched the kabob out of Suho’s hand and mumbled a "thanks."

One more month, Kris told himself.  He'd stick out his new job until the end of the month, and then if things got too horrible he'd demand that Mr. Han find him another job.

One month turned into two, into three, into four, then five, then six, then seven, then eight...then, after Kris realized that he was getting weirdly attached to Suho’s smiles, he stopped counting.  Mr. Han was pleased with Kris' dedication to his job.  Other adults took notice, as well.

One afternoon, Kris was watering Mrs. Kim's rosebushes when the woman herself joined him.  

"M-Mrs. Kim!" Kris fumbled with the watering can.  "Congratulations on being named Won Land's Female Entrepreneur of the Year." 

"Thank you, Kris."  Mrs. Kim observed (a very much sweating) Kris for a few minutes before speaking again.  "When I was fifteen, I had my first boyfriend.”

“Oh. Um.”  Kris nearly dropped his scissors in surprise.  What on earth did this have to do with anything? “Um.  That’s nice.”

“His name was Yonghwa,” Mrs. Kim continued, oblivious to Kris’ discomfort.  “He was a guitarist, and he dreamed of becoming a rock star one day."

"Oh. That's cool." Kris was more into rap than rock, but he could appreciate a fellow artist.

"We were both very young, and in love. We thought it would last forever.  He was very sweet.  He would spend his entire week's earnings in order to gain membership to the country club my family attended, just so we could spend more time together."

Kris squirmed.  He thought about the expensive dinner he had treated Suho to last weekend, that had cost him his entire paycheck. Mrs. Kim gave him a knowing look.

“Do you know what happened, in the end?”

“Um. It didn’t work out?" As far as Kris knew, Mr. Kim did not play the guitar or have much of an ear for music.

“Yes.  I cared for Yonghwa.  But in the end, our worlds were not meant to collide.  He would never have been able to provide for me, or fit in with my family and my friends.  He insisted on treating me like any suitor of my...status would, even though I knew he couldn’t possibly afford it in the long run.  Anyway, we finally had to face reality.  My parents introduced Kyuhyun to me, and...well, you know the rest.”

Kris did.  He had seen how picture-perfect Mr. and Mrs. Kim looked together, and how they and Suho made the perfect family, in their beautiful clothes and beautiful smiles.

What he didn't want to know was why Mrs. Kim was telling him all this.

“Back then, I thought I knew what I wanted.  When you're young, everything seems possible.  Now, with the benefit of experience, I know that I made the best choice, for everyone involved.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”  Mrs. Kim put a gentle hand on Kris’ shoulder.  It was a sympathetic gesture that did nothing to make Kris feel better.  His stomach sank.

Then, Mrs. Kim removed the hand and collected her basket.  “Thank you, Kris.  You’ve done a wonderful job with the garden.  We’ve appreciated all your help.”

That’s right.  Kris was just the help.  Their world would ever see him as good enough for Suho.  

Six months before his eighteenth birthday, Mr. Han dropped the bomb.

"You're kidding me, right?" Kris said.  It wasn't every day that you learned that you were the heir to some huge extremist group in another country.

Mr. Han was not kidding.

“We've been trying to prepare you, while giving you as normal of a life as I can without a family.” Mr. Han explained.  “You’re the rightful successor to your father’s title.  It’s time that you returned, now that your adulthood approaches."

"And what if they kill me?" Kris challenged.  "Why would they even want to take on some teenager?"

"You're father single-handedly built the group, and the loyalty runs deep.  You are his son.  They don’t just want to take you on; all of them have been waiting for you to lead them."

Kris laughed. “I can’t lead anyone.”  He couldn’t even get Byul to listen to him.  “Besides, I like it here in Won Land.”

"I’m sure you’ll be back here, in the near future.  There's a reason you've been raised in Won.  The Moxe has plans to extend its influence from Yuan to Won, in the future.  They plan to set up a sister group here, called the Koxe."  Kris choked.  Mr. Han grimaced.  "Er.  They might change the name.  Anyway, the Moxe's biggest trading partner in Won Land are the Kims.  That’s why I had you work for them, to get on friendly terms with them.”

Kris thought of Suho, whom he was definitely on more than friendly terms with.  Then, he thought of having to leave him.  Could he leave Suho behind...?  But if he didn’t, he would still lose Suho eventually, to some rich guy or girl that his parents picked out for him. If Kris took over his father’s position and became a great leader, Suho’s parents might believe that he was worthy of their son...

"Perhaps this will help."  Mr. Han slid an envelope over to Kris, who opened it with shaking fingers.  They were snapshots, black and white pictures of a man in uniform.  Sometimes he had a sword in hand, other times a book, and other times he was surrounded by other equally-fierce-looking men.  Kris could tell instantly who the man was supposed to be, and he suddenly felt dizzy.

"Your father."

Even through the faded photograph, the man's eyes burned like fire.  Kris could feel himself getting in by its intensity, and he wasn't surprised that the man had managed to create a powerful organization.  He looked strong, assured, and capable.  There was no way Kris could ever be like that.

As if reading his thoughts, Mr. Han placed a hand on his arm.  "My wife and I have been watching you for the past ten years, Kris.  Though we wish we could've given you a more stable childhood, we were under orders to raise you into becoming Moxe's future.  And I know you have what it takes. All of your teachers say you are an incredibly fast learner.  We all believe in you."

Kris looked back down at the photographs, his only link to the childhood he no longer remembered.  The thought of finally knowing his past, and the idea that he had a purpose after all, was both terrifying and exhilarating. Maybe, answering destiny's call would allow him to finally fix that hole inside of him.

*~*~*~*~*

The sky was overcast as they made their way east the next morning.  Fat stormclouds were gathering.  Meanwhile, an invisible cloud hung between the young couple as well, filled with years' worth of unspoken words.  Suho knew that eventually, he would have to make a decision.  Kris, or Xiumin?  His first love, or his parents' choice?  Security, or comfort?  A good guy, or a criminal?  The questions rolled around in his head.  

As it turned out, his decision came faster than he expected.   Kris and Suho stopped by a roadside gas station around midday so that Kris could refuel his motorcycle.  As Kris waited for the tank to fill, Suho busied himself with perusing the organic snack aisle of the gas station convenience store.  He was staring wistfully at a bag of chocolates in the candy aisle when a hand clamped around his forearm. 

“Suho?” a voice hissed. 

Suho’s head whipped around, and he found himself staring into a pair of catlike brown eyes and a familiar baby face.  “X-Xiumin?”

Luhan paused dramatically.  Sehun sighed. 

“You’re going to stop the story, right?”

“Hm.  How did you know?”

“Urgh because you always stop at the WORST time!”

Luhan snickered.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Anyway, it’s nine o’clock.  Time for bed.” 

He tucked Sehun in, suppressing an eyeroll as Sehun instructed him to tuck his Barbie doll Miranda in as well.

“Luhan?”

“What?”

"What's going to happen to Kris? Is Suho mad at him for keeping secrets and pretending to be dead?"

“Maybe a little.  I mean, Suho was pretty heartbroken for three years.”

“Yeah..." Sehun looked thoughtful.  "I think people shouldn't keep secrets.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Yay! So now will you tell me about your secret mission?”

“Nice try, you sneak.”  Luhan switched on the bedside lamp and turned off the main light.  “Besides," he added more quietly.  "Kris kept the secret because he wanted to protect Suho."

"Yeah but..." Sehun yawned.  Luhan pulled up the covers around Sehun’s shoulders.

"Go to sleep, now."

"But..I'm not...tired..." Sehun yawned.  

“Goodnight, Sehunnie.”