With the store’s green sign in sight, he debated whether to go in or just leave, but before he could decide, the door swung open and Yira stepped out, still in their green uniform and carrying an embroidered tote bag on her shoulder.

  The sun glistened in her hair and she turned around, walking towards the lower end of the street, away from the shops and away from the people.

  Intrigued, Taehyung picked up his pace to a jog.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “You never leave the shop.”

  “Would you like to pay for the answer?” she asked, continuing on like he wasn’t there.

  “Come on, be serious for once, and just answer me.”

  “I am serious.”

  “I am not paying you thirty dollars.”

  She turned her head and looked at him with her unmoving eyes and Taehyung groaned.

  He pulled out some coins from his pocket. “I got four dollars.”

  She held out her hand and he dropped them onto her palm. “Good enough,” she said.

  “So where are you going?”

  She dropped the coins into her bag. “Some of my customers prefer to see me outside the store. They ask me to come to them.” She stopped in her tracked, and pointed in front.

  His jaw dropped open as a limousine, long and as black as a panther awaited Yira at the end of the street, its polished surface glistening in the sun.

  A meaty man in a suit stood by the door, wearing a headset on his ear. He bent down and opened the door, politely gesturing for Yira to enter, but he stopped as his eyes fell on Taehyung.

  “Who’s he?” he asked, his voice gruff and rude. “I wasn’t told to drive anyone else.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” she said. She turned to Taehyung and her voice became light and airy. “He’s my fortune teller’s little helper, aren’t you?”

  Taehyung's brow twitched.

  “I still can’t let him in the vehicle,” the man insisted.

  “I was hired for a consult, now I’m sure that would include my help, or would you like me to call him and check?”

  “No, no!” he cut in. “Fine, get in.”

  The man turned to the driver side and Taehyung stared at the vehicle in shock. It was an impressive show of wealth that he had never seen before in his life.

  Yira stepped in and patted the empty seat beside her. “So?” she asked, her voice sounding bored. “Are you going to get in?”

  Taehyung nodded numbly before gingerly seating himself next to her. The interior resembled an expensive lounge, with leather seats, a small TV screen, and a stocked miniature bar. As soon as the door was shut, the limousine moved into motion, turning away from the little street towards the main road.

  “Okay, who the hell hired you?” he questioned, amazed yet at the same time feeling strangely apprehensive about knowing.

  “Would you like to take a guess?” she asked as she helped herself to a cold glass of water.

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  “I believe it’s someone you know.”

  “I’d think I’d remember knowing someone who owned a limousine,” he replied, looking all around the vehicle. “I’m beginning to regret getting in,” he grumbled.

  She looked distractedly at the beads on her wrist, touching the string with her fingers. “You’re in a low mood.”

  “Did your psychic powers tell you that?” he retorted, his voice coming of resentful even though he wasn’t intending for it to be.

  “No, just good guessing,” she answered.

  “…Sorry,” he mumbled.

  A heavy silence filled the air, only interrupted by the slow purr of the engine and the light music coming from the television.

  “I broke up with my girlfriend,” he admitted.

  The limousine came to a sudden halt and Taehyung looked out to see a small, two storey townhouse with gritty, red brick walls and the curtains to every window shut tight.

  The driver came around and opened the door for them, and the two stepped out onto the concrete sidewalk.

  “He’ll see you upstairs,” he said.

  The man led the way, opening the unlocked doors and showing them in. A worn, narrow set of stairs greeted them at the door and they continued to the upper floor.

  A feeling of unease settled in Taehyung’s gut as they approached a door at the end of the hall. The house was not made for living. The walls were bare, the furniture minimal and lacking in the necessities. The dust of neglect settled in the corners.

  “I’ll leave you here,” said the man, before returning back where they came.

  The hot smell of tobacco seeped under the door and Taehyung anxiously turned the knob, entering into the dimly lit room. The light coming through the blinds left a stripe pattern on the floorboards.

  Five men stood before them, each dressed in loosened suits and standing behind one man in a chair behind an old desk. He was aged and unshaven, with the deep wrinkles of a lifetime of frowning, but his eyes held a bright glint of cunning and vitality.

  Taehyung’s face changed. His eyes widened. A name he had heard many times uttered in his house from his father’s frustrated lips sounded in his head.

  “Seok Tae-ssi,” Yira greeted.

  The man opened his arms and broke out into a welcoming smile. “Yira!” Seok Tae greeted.

  Yira’s face lit up in her famous, retail smile and she walked forward towards the chair as Seok Tae spoke effervescently to her in Satoori.

  To Taehyung’s surprise, Yira returned in prefect, fluent Satoori, casually speaking as if she wasn’t sitting before an infamous mob boss, maintaining perfect, polite poise.

  As Taehyung moved to stand behind Yira’s seat, Seok Tae’s eyes fell on him. “Who is this?” he asked, switching to normal Korean.

  “He’s with me,” she said.

  The man spent a time looking at him, observing his appearance. Although it was a trivial gesture from a man seated behind a wide desk, Taehyung felt an intense pressure exerted from his eyes. They were cold, hinting at a practical ruthlessness that gave him his position, but Taehyung did not buckle, nor was he intimidated. He felt nothing but disdain for the man and disgust for his presence.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  Taehyung stood tall and answered politely, as if he were a boy before a teacher. “Kim Taehyung's the name.”

  “Kim, eh?” he said, shaking a finger at him. “I know you. You’re officer Kim Young Deuk's boy, aren’t you? The man has been on my tail for many years. I never imagined his son would be such a pretty boy. So why are you here? Playing spy for your dad?”

  “No, I am just here to help Yira. I have no conflict with you,” he replied firmly.

  Seok Tae grinned. “Like father like son. Relax, boy. Your father may have placed me in a number of difficult situations, but I have no interest in causing unnecessary harm to the families of my enemies. You are under no threat.”

  He turned back to Yira and his demeanour quickly reverted to that of an easy going gentleman. “Today, I seek the help of the lovely Yira-ssi here. I am in need of her unique assistance.”

  “Of course, Seok Tae-ssi,” she agreed, but her eyes looked passed him to the men behind him. “Although I’d have preferred a more private setting.”

  “Oh, how rude of me.” He pointed his hand at the door, and all the men filed out one by one, until only a short but broad shouldered man remained.

  Yira crossed her legs and placed her hands neatly on her lap, waiting patiently for the room to quieten, which made Taehyung feel restless, as he was reluctant to remain in their present company any longer.

  “Now sir,” she began. “What appears to be troubling you?”

  “Ah,” he sighed. “My company and I have recently come across some unfortunate misfortune, a series of truly poor luck starting with the passing with my one and only son, Hwa-yi.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It isn’t an issue. He was born ill and it was long expected. It is unfortunate but we must move on and accept it. I do not wish to waste your precious time with such personal and helpless matters; no I have a different request for you.”

  “You want me to find something,” she finished.

  Seok Tae paused but he looked pleased. “Yes, you are correct. I suppose I should expect nothing less from you.”

  “It must be quite important for you to seek my help.”

  “Yes, it concerns my entire organisation. You see, after Hwa-yi passed, we kept his things in his room for quite a long time, maintaining everything as it was for our mourning period. It was during this time, that one of his possessions was stolen by a maid, probably for the sake of pawning it for she was a wretch of little wealth, but unfortunately for us, it contained quite a few documents of our…business operations.”

  “You want Yira to find it so won’t become incriminating evidence,” Taehyung blurted out, his eyes hard and accusing.

  Seok Tae seemed surprised that he’d speak but he took it with good humour. “Yes, unfortunately the documents contains…private information that would not look well in the hands of others.” He turned back to Yira, his ringed fingers locking together and resting on the table top. “Now, we tracked down the maid and we entered her house, but she was long gone. We search high and low through all her meagre possessions but we found nothing. She had disappeared, and with it, the documents.”

  The man leaned forward, his eyes intently on Yira. “Now, if we may bother you Yira-ssi, you are truly a rare gem in this world and your clarity of sight is second to none. We seek your gift in locating that precious item and I assure you that you will be handsomely rewarded.”

  Yira leaned back on her chair, blowing out a low, slow breath. “Now, before I begin, may I ask what item this is?”

  “It is an old antique box,” he explained, roughly estimating its size with his hands. “Carved and set with a gem in the centre. My son liked to keep things of importance within it.”

  “Thank you sir, that’s all I need.”

  Taehyung fidgeted behind her, restless with the idea of Yira helping them evade what he thought was a long deserved arrest that his father had spent years trying to make happen.

  Yira’s eyes lowered until they were half closed, appearing almost as if she were waking from a peaceful sleep, and she began breathing out in a low, smooth voice that sent a shiver up Taehyung’s spine.

  “I see a journey that you must undertake to find what you seek,” she began. “The box you wish for exists in a place not far from here, bearing north from this exact location. It lies undisturbed beneath a flourishing growth in full bloom, surrounded by many others just like it.”

  Seok Tae listened intently, fully absorbed in her words, as was Taehyung.

  “It lies between two bodies of water,” she continued. “One marked by white and the other by orange. Your journey begins on the first sunny day with a drunken dog. Follow it, and it will lead you to an old woman who knows where you must go next, although make your conversation quick or you will be misled. You will find directions to the hiding place written inside an old, unmarked envelope sitting under a white cat. But beware; it’ll be lost once the clock strikes six.”

  She pulled up her back and uncrossed her legs. “If you follow these directions, you shall find what you seek with little hassle, and with no violence.”

  Seok Tae reached across the table and shook her hand gratefully. “Thank you, Yira. We will be on it as soon as possible.” He turned to the man behind him and clicked his fingers. “Gilsun! Give our guest her payment.”

  The man removed a thick, bulky envelope from the inside of his coat and handed it to Yira. Taehyung’s eyes grew wide with shock at the thought of the worth of the envelope’s contents, but Yira treated it like nothing and dropped it into her bag.

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “I wish you luck on your search.”

  "And we thank you for your assistance,” he said. “Gilsun, them outside.”

  “No need,” Yira objected, holding out her hand. “We know the way. See you again next time.”

  “Goodbye, Yira.”

  Yira left the room and Taehyung followed, shooting judging glances at Seok Tae who paid him no mind. The door closed and the two of them walked down the stairs.

  “He’s grateful?” he muttered, keeping his voice low in the silent house. “How did he understand that bull?”

  “Seok Tae’s a long term customer, and a superstitious one,” she answered. “He understands fortune telling.”

  He put his hand on Yira’s shoulder, prompting her to look back. “Why did you help him?” he asked seriously.

  Yira’s unblinking eyes looked at him without emotion. “He paid.”

  “But you know he’s a mob boss!” he hissed.

  Yira shook off his hand. “The occupation of my customers holds little worth to me. If they pay, I speak. If they don’t, I stay quiet. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Aren’t you the least but bothered by this?”

  “No.”

  Yira walked ahead as Taehyung glared at her from behind, but as the approached the limousine, she stopped in her tracks and appeared to consider something.

  “Kim Taehyung,” she called out to him, turning around.  “Even though I know you're dying to get involved in this... In my professional opinion, don’t get involved. Or you'll end up in quite an awkward spot in two days time.”

  “Is that a prophecy?”

  Yira just shrugged and stepped into the limousine.