27; Real spy mission

An hour, they said.

'To us...!'

No drinking, they said.

'To us!'

But less than ten minutes into their second glasses of cranberry juice, and the words they had sworn by were out the window. Jimin didn't know how things had escalated as far as he and Kyungja holding up their second shots, knocking them back while sitting beside one another directly at the bar.

Their table had long been abandoned, and so had their fruit juices. Officer Park liked to think that perhaps his words were not lost on his partner, who – particularly – looked intent on 'going out with a bang'.

Wiping his lips with the side of his finger, Jimin's eyes fell on the woman beside him, whose stern demeanour had been slowly chipping away. Her coat was out and draped behind her; the white dress shirt she wore gleaming under the warm lighting of the tavern. Her hair had been combed back and pulled to the left, exposing a portion of her neck where the latter noticed a thin sheen of sweat shimmer. Her eyes had drooped slightly and her lips grew puffy and berry-like; her features startlingly even more beautiful in that instance.

'We shouldn't be doing this.'

She said without looking at him. And Jimin was thankful she hadn't, considering he found himself staring at her for a lot longer than he intended. Tearing his eyes away from her with the exception of a pink dusting on his cheeks, he focused on the line of colourful bottles and other trinkets stacked against the opposing wall behind the bartender.

'You're right,' he responded, battling with the combination of hazy thoughts and the nagging urge to take in every inch of the woman next to him all over again.

'We shouldn't.'

'We should go,' she continued, more to herself than her partner, and almost magnetically, the two faced each other and locked eyes.

They held each other's stare for a brief moment, yet it seemed like painstaking hours then. As if desperately trying to prod out concurrences from one another, the staring game continued.

It really was a bad idea. If perhaps Kyungja was in a perfectly good state of mind, she'd be cringing at even the prospect of getting drunk with her partner on a Friday night instead of spending the time at work. There was no way someone as sensible and disciplined as her would ever partake in such reckless activity... but she'd forgotten just who she was with.

'Do you...,' Jimin breathed; their shoulders brushing against one another.

The anticipation his question implied made her heart stop. Or perhaps it was something else. Apart from her sober subconscious making mental notes to later on in the evening deal with the reckless nature of their current predicament, Kyungja's eyes settled on the breathless look he assumed.

Park Jimin's charms were points she briefly acknowledged at some point, surely. But what she saw then was different. Perhaps it was because they were both under the influence, but her eyes lingered on his full lips and daring eyes that had shifted towards her own as he stared at her from under his lashes. There was something unexpectedly intimidating yet heated about the way he looked at her, but Kyungja couldn’t find it in her to protest against the look, because she felt a bizarre tingling ripple throughout her body in response to it. In fact, her entire body felt like it was teetering on a precipice in anticipation of whatever he was about to ask her.

‘Do you want to dance?’

‘No.’

And that was the end of it… or at least that would have been the case, given different circumstances. Normal circumstances. However, Kyungja’s answer was anything but as simple and brutally honest as she was usually capable of. Instead, she observed a moment of silence before glancing down at her shoes, staring at them with a great deal of concentration before looking back at her partner who seemed hopeful in some otherworldly way.

‘I’m not dressed to dance.’

Jimin guffawed at her answer. ‘What? You’re dressed fine. Come on.’

She shook her head dismissively and the latter groaned at her stubborn response, rolling his head back before throwing her a conspicuous look. Somehow she could see how fitting the expression was on a regular day at school or at the station on his face. But combined with his shirt that was now ed at the very top and a dishevelled collar that revealed a frighteningly defined clavicle, Jimin adopted the appearance of a carefree college student of sorts.

‘’Not dressed to dance’, huh… man, you look pretty stunning to me.’

An unexpected hiccup rose up at the comment, and Kyungja was grateful for not having attempted drinking anything the moment the words left him, for she was certain she would have choked. Much like herself, whatever was left of reserved Park Jimin had seemingly begun melting away with the number of drinks he had, despite it not being many. In fact, this foreign flirt that had replaced Park Jimin was an odd thing to take in at the time considering his day-to-day nature.

They hadn't had much to drink. Both Kyungja and Jimin were still relatively conscious, yet it was amazing how little of the stuff affected her partner that quickly. If she thought she was intolerant, she was in for a rude awakening.

Woon Kyungja was – surprisingly – asked on a number of occasions to dance. Woon Kyungja was also showered with praises regarding her striking physicality. But regardless of whether or not such otherwise flattering utterances were wholehearted to begin with, most of the time, she was simply disinterested in them. Things that were supposed to have made any other woman swoon and entice something similarly to that of a heart attack barely affected her...

But this time, it did. Awkwardly dancing around the unexpected rush of adrenalin the comment gave her, she straightened up in her swivel chair and raised her chin, looking anywhere but at Jimin.

‘Maybe next time,’ she mumbled, not expecting him to hear her as she pushed her sleeve aside to stare into her watch menacingly.

‘Does that mean you’ll go on a date with me instead?’

Kyungja flushed. Her hand waved over at the bartender who sashayed in their direction. He cocked an eyebrow in anticipation of her request, to which Kyungja only responded to with darting eyes, and a quiet mumble.

'Water, please.'

The scarlet haired officer watched the following scene with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The woman snatched the glass quickly from over the counter the moment it arrived, knocking it back fiercely with a frown so intense, Jimin was certain her eyebrows would merge permanently at any given moment now.

There was something terribly interesting about Officer Woon's responses. Regardless of whether or not she was under the influence, somehow her reactions never ceased to amaze him whenever it came to personally-directed subjects, which seemed to throw her off every single time without fail.

The thought prompted the unexpected thought of Jimin’s blonde colleague Namjoon, who had a knack of approaching women as casually as the friendly neighbourhood tomcat. He somehow always made it seem as if it were the easiest thing to do, considering how often he succeeded holding their attention for as long as he did at times, chatting idly and exuding the air of someone incredibly relaxed. He was chirpy – albeit gutsy – and basked in attention when he was granted it. He was an effortless mood maker in such circumstances.

However, Jimin could never find himself doing the same. Whilst Namjoon paraded about his charismatic self, the latter instead opted to watch rather than participate. And perhaps it was their different ideals that set them apart, but Jimin was a man who liked to believe in pursuing only things he found genuine interest in. And resting his cheek in his palm – an elbow propped on the table in front of him – he found himself watching the woman on his left that fit the description of such a muse entirely.

Somehow the thought of rejection – which had occurred to him moments prior – didn't seem all that bad. Or at least right now it didn't. The following morning would most likely be a different story, but it was too late to think about the consequences now. Whatever consequences were, anyway. They had went as far as ditching work for a night out in each other's company. Just a little more bad behaviour wouldn't make a difference, right?

'This is ridiculous,' Kyungja muttered after a brief moment, clutching her glass tightly in a single hand.

'We should be out there—I don’t know—doing something, Park.'

'If we could, we would. Trust me,' Jimin sighed. 'But we're officially desk hoppers.'

'No, Jimin,' she quipped; eyebrows furrowing again as she turned to look at him intently, sliding the half-emptied glass in his direction which he stared at.

'Think. We have the diamond, we have the suspicious jokes, the 'guy in black' roaming around casually after school kidnapping students...'

Kyungja paused, watching the redhead who continued staring at her glass with what appeared to be fierce concentration. Sighing, she pushed it towards him and almost immediately, his eyes flicked to her own.

'Go ahead.'

his lips, her partner reached for the tumbler and tentatively sipped; his features contorting in disgust almost instantly at the taste of water after one too many drinks. However, under the scrutiny of the fullmetal RoboCop (and perhaps some farfetched thought it might impress her, given his state), Jimin refused to fail. He knocked back the rest of the drink just as quickly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning forward again when his head swirled as if a misty typhoon brewed within it.

Two more glasses of water were placed on the counter, and Jimin groaned inwardly at the prospect of downing them to flush out his system. Despite being sober enough to realize it was a necessary step to avoiding feeling awful sooner than later, he opened his mouth to protest – the action accompanied by an unconscious pucker of the lips – yet his partner's following words stopped him.

'It may be impossible, but we have to find a way to stop him before the briefing.'

'Impossible is nothing.'

The words left his mouth with little to no discretion. However, he didn't regret them. Kyungja immediately turned to face him; a curtain of sooty hair dancing around her as she did; and squinted, watching him with the likeness of a hawk.

And much like the above statement, the following one hadn't required an ounce of Park Jimin's better judgement either.

'I have a plan.'

An hour later, Officer Park wasn't quite certain of a lot of things that had transpired. One of them being why he was seated in a car that was far too quiet when it moved, drove at a maximum of 40km/h, and smelt like the old women he often associated with in the neighbourhood.

The second being why the car in question had pulled up – in a cringing, inch-by-inch way – outside the gates of Melon High.

And the third being why the car's hazards were on when they were in fact in the middle of a very covert operation.

'Dude,' Jimin threw the person on his right – what he would have liked to believe was – the most incredulous look he was capable of.

'I know you're a genius and all, but... you would get an F on a spy test.'

The blonde youngster sighed; the action compelling every ounce of his patience; and wiped the sweat from under his pale bangs, gripping the steering wheel as if it was the only thing keeping his sanity in check.

'Jimin, for the last time: you are not a spy,' he explained slowly and carefully, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

'I am not a spy. WE are not spies! And this whole 'operation' of yours is—hey!'

The redhead winced instinctively, snatching his hand away from the red hazard button on the dashboard which Taehyung seemingly protected with his life. Flashing yellow lights from a car that was clearly the only one parked outside the school at midnight wasn't precisely the plan the officer had in mind... yet there was little Jimin could do about his current circumstances. Oh, why did he have to suggest such a ridiculous plan of action in the first place!?

Throwing himself back against the seat in surrender, Jimin's mind wandered to the last hour when it all began...

Jimin had witnessed a lot of bizarre things in his life.

His line of work allowed for a handful of strange sightings, and he often wondered just how good of a paranormal investigator he'd be considering the things he was subject to. Flailing drunkards in a summoning circle, druggies parading the alleys in superhero costumes, a crazed old man refusing to give up his potted weed 'children': the works. Park Jimin was certain he'd seen it all.

But he was suddenly proved mistaken. It took a moment to appear, but it flourished with the likeness of a white lotus flower; each petal unfurling delicately until stretching out in all its grandeur.

This was what Woon Kyungja looked like when she laughed. Her lips – always pursed – had stretched into a smile; a smile that gradually transformed into a grin, at which she bore a healthy set of teeth. There was something incredibly whimsical about the expression, which – to Jimin's surprise – had even escalated to a soft, twinkling, youthful laughter completely unexpected of her whatsoever.

'You're hot stuff, Jimin,' she chimed; every syllable from her lips accompanied by crescent eyes, a scrunched nose, and a grin that had now been reduced to a disbelieving smile.

'So let me paraphrase this,' she continued, sipping more water. 'You want to break into the principal's office right now, rummage through his files for the evidence we need, and get out of there without a trace?'

The redhead nodded; the air from his lungs still knocked out somewhat by the anomaly – or rather, fleeting dream – he'd just witnessed. He had never seen her smile that much before. In fact, it was his first time discovering his partner was even capable of such relaxed laughter. The sound was as pleasing as a nightingale's morning song. It was something he suddenly found himself craving more of the moment she stopped, staring at him with the return of her default visage.

'The school security is no joke, Park.'

'Which is why we have secret weapons,' he countered after successfully recovering from what he’d just witnessed, holding her questioning stare. 'Which is Kim Jongin and Kim Taehyung.'

Kyungja was silent for a moment, and Jimin could tell by the level look in her eyes that she was weighing his claim cautiously.

‘I can understand Kim Jongin, with his possession of the keys to almost every room in the school,’ she paused contemplatively. ‘But the boy? I don’t see how he’d be of much use.’

The officer his lips – an action he found himself indulging in far too often this evening – and held up two fingers at her, leaning against the bar top with his other elbow in anticipation of his following explanation.

'Well, remember the times he popped up in the most unexpected places? When you think about it, it’s weird, right? First the restroom, and then the chemistry lab. Two places most students wouldn’t go during the hours we did.’

‘And the fact that he didn’t get caught as yet proves how much of a secret weapon he is?’

‘Well, yeah. The fact that he didn’t get caught as yet just means he can get us in and out the same way. Unnoticed,’ Jimin looked away, shrugging absently. ‘If you ask me; with the help of those guys; I think we have a plan.’

Kyungja’s expression was unreadable. Jimin couldn’t tell whether her silence was a means of considering his words, or whether she was simply amusing him by appearing to pay attention. Nevertheless, he was preparing himself for the worst.

… And seated in the idle silver Prius directly outside the school gates with yellow hazards flashing, Jimin was certain the worst was actually his partner agreeing with his so-called ‘plan’. As thrilling as this all was in context, the reality of it – which gradually began sinking in now that they were actually carrying it out – was so slapdash, if not for their poor states, he was certain his partner would have rejected the plan within a heartbeat rather than what landed them in their current predicament.

‘This is a bad idea.’

Taehyung’s voice pulled the officer out of his hazy reverie; every one of the passengers staring out the window and towards the school as if it were a living monstrosity.

‘Oh, quit whining, Tae,’ Jihye quipped from the backseat.

Leaning forward excitedly in her middle seat, Moon Jihye was clad similarly to her best friend counterpart: a casual grey sweater, equally monochrome sweatpants, and white running shoes. The moment the officers laid eyes on them, it didn’t take much scrutiny of their faces to note the unasked questions in their sceptical stares. It seemed as if the two high school students were out on some midnight jog, but considering the bizarre nature of both Taehyung and Jihye, it was safe to assume otherwise.

‘So?’ the young girl’s eyes sparkled dazzlingly; sumptuous blonde and hazel hair cascading down her left shoulder as she vibrated in her seat.

‘Are we going to dig up some serious dirt on Baekhyun or what? Let’s go!’

‘Wha—no way!’ Taehyung cried, twisting under his seatbelt to face her, frowning. ‘Jihye, are you nuts? We could get into real trouble, suspended even!’

The female student pouted; her arms folded over her chest dramatically. ‘Who says we’re going to get caught? If we’re sneaky