I

The moment I arouse from what seemed to be an eternal, winter slumber in Chanyeol’s apartment, a small note written in a regular Oslo paper shaped as a heart was already tucked in between my fingertips. I examined it closely and it had the scent of a strong, expensive perfume for men. It read, in script:

CALLME,SUNGMI

As soon as possible. Do not speak of this note to anyone.

Especially Park Chanyeol.

I immediately slipped the note inside my pocket when I heard the door creaking open. “You’re finally awake,” Chanyeol said, “I had to carry you to my apartment because you fell asleep after failing to tell me your address. It was so cold! How could you just fall asleep like that? Luckily enough, you’re quite petite. Oh, and don’t worry. I took the couch.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” I giggled in response, but I was reminded of the written note and became wary in his presence. 

“Is there anything bothering you?” he asked with a concerned face. I instantly considered bringing up the note, but I didn’t feel that it was collateral enough to after weighing in the feasible outcomes of my possible decision.

“Nothing. I think I just need a job.”

Chanyeol remarked, “How about you work as my assistant until you find a proper occupation, one that you really like? That’s a compelling proposal!”

Before I could vocalize against the proposition I was at variance with, he took his cellphone and dialed. “Hello?” he said over the phone.

“What now?” a drowsy, familiar voice answered, “Leave me alone. It’s my day-off.”

“Junmyeon, I mean, Officer Junmyeon, may I hire an assistant?”

“Who?” he asked sluggishly.

“Sungmi.”

“Okay,” he replied with a yawn and hung up.

“That was surprisingly easy,” I pointed out, flabbergasted.

“Well, there aren’t any needed stipulations to be an assistant. It is an entry-level position. It does not necessarily require a certain degree or a formal training, but a Major in Linguistics might be reliable in some cases. Just aid in my conquests and that’s it. You can discuss the pay with Junmyeon when he finally becomes sentient.”

I was mindful that there was something perplexing surrounding Chanyeol’s persona, but I was more conscious of the conviction that I had no other potential employment alternatives at the moment. Therefore, I winded up accepting the job with a slight bob.

Chanyeol’s cellphone rang once more, “Hello, this is Park Chanyeol.”

“This is Officer Kim Youngwoon,” the voice declared with much resentment, “There’s a new case for you. We found bodies disposed in a dumpster in the Itaewon Precinct of Yongsan. The first time, 7 am yesterday, we found five bodies—two were drugged, another two was stabbed in multiple places, while the last one was headshot. We immediately looked into it. But earlier today, around the same time, we found another set of five corpses in the same dumpster—one was drugged, one was stabbed, one both, one had chopped off fingers, and one was headshot.”

“That’s twisted,” he replied.

“The people who were killed had nothing in common. Some were men, some were women. Some were rich, some were not. We couldn’t find a plausible pattern to explain the mass murder of these civilians. Absolutely nothing.”

“Are any of the men on the watch?”

“Yes, but there is still no unusual activity. No one has even passed by yet.”

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said before hanging up, “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“How are we going to begin the investigation for this?” I queried.

II

We were in a Chinese restaurant that was located on the 2^nd floor of a building. A small, round window next to our table showed a clear view of the street where that particular dumpster was located—regardless of the snow. For six hours straight, not one of us uttered a word. Whenever I tried to speak, he held his index finger close to his lips, ordering me to keep quiet. Chanyeol was completely fixated on the notional activities by the dumpster, jerking whenever there were comings and goings on the farthest ends of the street. At most, we have seen two cars driving by. Based on the lack of action, I instantly made an assumption as to why the corpses were dumped there.

Subsequently, he fell asleep and I had been on the guard on my own for at least an hour and a half. I could only imagine how exasperated the restaurant owner must be towards us.

“This kid is just being careless now,” Officer Youngwoon, who was dressed in a casual brown coat, sniggered as he took the chair next to Chanyeol and watched over the window with me, “At least you’re here.”

I greeted him with a smile and asked, “What brings you here, officer?”

“I figured this would happen. Thankfully, you came alone. It’s only natural that he would decide to look out from here. I’m not an idiot.”

“I never thought you were, sir,” I giggled, “But you don’t really hate him, do you?” 

“No,” he responded without turning his head towards me, “but this kid really acts like one and it irks me. He is too proud and credits himself too much. He wouldn’t have solved these cases if we haven’t aided him in some way. We still look after him, but he refuses to acknowledge that. He believes he conquers his quests on his own.

On a side note, I envy that he does his job with such passion and vigor—that’s what I lack in comparison.”    

As soon as the clock struck 8 pm, a white van halted in front of the dumpster. Two men with face masks stepped out and examined the pile of garbage. After inspecting, the two began arguing. The officer instinctively took a pen and notepad from his pocket and scribbled down their plate number. I stood up, but Officer Youngwoon grabbed my wrist and insisted, “Stay. I’ll take care of this. Wake him up.” He got up immediately and went downstairs.

Chanyeol snapped into awareness as soon as I gave him a slight tapping on the shoulder. “What happened?” he asked.

“Look over there,” I said, pointing out to Officer Youngwoon pummeling the two men with his gloved hands and handcuffing them.

“We should head over there too,” Chanyeol said languorously.

When we arrived near the scene, we were greeted by the bloody faces of the two men laying on the cold, concrete ground. The one with pink hair, who laid beside a man with green highlights, still managed to open his eyes and roared, “You can’t make us talk.”

Officer Youngwoon took him by his black tank top and threatened him, “Do you want me to make you talk?”

“No, sir!” he answered teary-eyed, “We just do what we have to do.”

“What do you have to do?”

“We were ordered to collect… something.”

“What is that something?” the officer asked menacingly, gripping on to the fabric more tightly.

He took a deep breath. “Dead bodies,” he quietly gushed out.

“And why would you need to do that?”

“Our boss told us to.”

Officer Youngwoon exhaled deeply and took out a gun from his leather belt. “This is taking too long for me,” he positioned the firearm against his pink head with a clink, “I am abundantly impatient. Tell me everything.”

“Every other day, we collect the dead bodies that were dumped here by the rest of the organization so we could burn them. We haven’t killed anyone, I promise! We’re not even sure how our boss really looks like—let alone know anything about him. We don’t even know how many bosses we’ve actually had. We haven’t been inside the game room either,” he answered with eyes firmly closed together.

“What game room?”

“That room where they play the game.”

“What game?”

“It’s kind of like a ed up version of Monopoly with 25 billion won for grabs. I don’t know how it works, but anyone can join it. They just have to register the day before. I really don’t know anything else about it.”

“Where is the game room? How can we sign up?” Officer Youngwoon looked like he was going to snap and pull the trigger anytime.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m genuinely losing my patience,” Youngwoon verbalized as he pushed the gun further.

“It’s in an underground club called XX in Hooker Hill, okay? I don’t want to be part of that gruesome either. Just head over there and you can register.” The officer effectively calmed his nerves, dropped him, and tucked the gun away.

“He has more of a direct approach in gathering information,” Chanyeol explained to me with a titter.

“I’m taking these two to the headquarters. Continue the investigation on your own. Hopefully we can extract more data,” the officer said.

“I owe you one, Officer Youngwoon!” Chanyeol screamed excitedly as he led me to the opposite end of the street. Chanyeol then turned to me and stated, “We are heading to Hooker Hill.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s just a street not very distant from here.”

“Why do they call it Hooker Hill?”

Chanyeol’s face turned a light shade of pink upon hearing the question. “It’s a red-light district,” he stuttered.

III

We walked linear along a dark street that was brightened up by colorful, luminous lights that danced to the rhythm of our footsteps in every partition. There were many visible motorcycles that thundered against the raving music from the surrounding clubs, creating a loud clamor together.

Our stomps discontinued strolling through the lane as soon as we discerned a club that was glitzier and more capacious compared to the rest. XX, it read in dazzling fuchsia luster. A man, a bouncer in particular, stood on the side of the silver doors and glared at us as we entered, adding a jiff of booming to the ongoing noise outside.

A lush woman in a provocative cat suit greeted us with a sultry smile and Chanyeol became rigid in response. The same tenseness did not vary as we made our way through the music and voluminous women in different costumes.

“Are you nervous because there’s so many beautiful women?” I asked, but with a hint of envy.

“They are alluring and I am in disbelief,” he replied, “because these are not women. There is nothing wrong with cross-dressing, but they look surprisingly fetching. Amazing.”

I frown with a sigh, “I even lose to men now.”

Chanyeol said something, but I wasn’t able to hear it due to the loud bass and the chanting from the dancefloor and pink tables. “G-Dragon! G-Dragon!” the crowd cheered together.

The red curtains on the wide stage at the center of the club unfolded and flashy lights focused on a man with a full-face red dragon mask and bleached hair. His chic, ivory suit with a red shirt beneath complimented his average height and small structure very well.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” he exclaimed while holding on to the microphone with his black leather gloves, “How are you?”

The crowd replied with a roar.

“Are you excited for today?”

The crowd replied with a louder roar.

“Are you ready?”

The crowd replied with an even louder roar.

“Let’s begin!” the man by the stage name of G-Dragon disappeared into oblivion as soon as the costumed vixens from earlier began dancing seductively while making funny faces. The laughter from the audience was absurd.

“How are we going to find information?” I whispered to Chanyeol who remained focused until he laughed along.

He stopped to think and observed his surroundings. He stared at the velvet floors for a few seconds before he said, “You’re wearing the same outfit the waitresses are wearing, but I’m worried that you playing as a waitress will put you in danger. The club itself, including restroom space, isn’t occupying the entire capacity of this place.”

“I have the capability to! I won’t get into trouble!” I assured, already adjusting my outfit to the waitresses’ uniforms.

Before he could oppose, a waitress called for my attention a bit pugnaciously and a perturbed Chanyeol was left alone as I walked towards the bar. “Serve these to the people over that table,” the waitress demanded, “Those are the VIPs for tonight.”

“VIPs?”

“The people who will be dead by tomorrow. You know what I’m talking about.”

I proceeded to the table and served the drinks. There was an emanation of unsettledness among them and none of them were speaking to each other. There was a woman who seemed to be around her early 30s, a woman who was surely a 40 year-old mother, a 26 year-old man, a typical university boy, and a 19 year-old girl who was dressed in a school uniform. Everyone, but the girl, looked gloomy, fretful, and weary-eyed.  

“Thanks,” the 30 year-old woman said with a faint smile. Her polished nails whirled around the circumference of the glass before she chugged the whole drink in one go.

I shifted to Chanyeol’s direction and nudged him, “I think those are the players for tonight.”

“Excellent,” he said as he took a sip of his drink.

The show carried on and a spire with a razor-sharp, round steel saw walked to the center part of the stage—it was about 10 feet tall. G-Dragon appeared on the platform, earning a raging applause, and placed a finger on the tip of the teeth. “Ouch! It’s real!” he cried out comically as he held out his bleeding finger.

The blade began rotating in motion and climbed up the tower, reaching its highest peak. A glittering golden box in a style of a coffin followed shortly after and was positioned neatly beneath the blade. “Since today is a very sentimental occasion for me, I prepared something special for everyone. I have been preparing this for years, but if this will be the death of me,” he cried in a weepy voice, “Let’s hope otherwise.” He laughed hysterically as he entered the box, both his hands and feet exposed and shackled.

Before I could say something about how basic the trick was, the front was lowered and revealed the steel bands that were keeping him in place. The crowd gasped as the blade began descending from the top. G-dragon struggled getting out of his handcuffs and balled frantically, “I can get out of this!”

The blade was halfway through the tower. He started shrieking for help. The vixens stood back and continued to smile at the audience in discomfort. 

He panicked as a blade cut through him and teared up a fabric from his shirt. Blood came out and his body stopped quivering a few seconds later. The box was separated by the vixens, disclosing that the body was indeed cut in half. The vixens waved goodbye awkwardly as the red curtains closed. The crowd was silent for the next few minutes before creating a commotion from all the whispering. 

“He… he’s dead,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be too certain,” Chanyeol declared calmly.

A woman nearby started muttering to her friend, “Do you think G-Dragon is the same person every time?”

“What do you mean? It’s not the first time he died?”

“He died numerous times already, but he comes back randomly.”

“That’s quite strange. I’d like to think this is just an elaborate act, though. It would be mortifying if there was a terrible truth to this.”

“G-Dragon is a strange one.”

Chanyeol sighed, “He slipped his legs on a secret compartment. The table legs were hollow and was large enough to fit half a person. The legs were from a body double that climbed in even before he began the trick. He was upside down. Everything looked more legitimate because of the props and acting, simple as that. This is ludicrously primitive.”

While the crowd was caught up in the events of the previous act, the VIPs stood up and a waitress lead them somewhere. The generic college student, however, walked to the opposite direction nervously and carefully. No one noticed but Chanyeol himself and signaled me to keep an eye from afar as he followed them quietly. The VIPs headed over the kitchen. In that kitchen, there was a door that uncovered a hall where all the equipment were kept. They entered inside the plain wooden door that stood alone on the right side of the hall. Chanyeol eagerly listened to the dialogue inside the room as I caught up with him.

“It’s the game room,” he muttered.

“What’s your plan?”

“They need another waitress inside.”

“I’m here.”

“There’s too many people inside. Even I don’t think we can take them down.”

“I’ll call for backup.”

“Good. And the same woman said that they needed one more player before they could play or else their boss will unleash his anger upon them.”

“Don’t tell me…”

Chanyeol unlocked the door and yelled enthusiastically, “I want to play!” He shut the door behind him. I immediately tried contacting Officer Junmyeon, but the waitress hurriedly called me in before he could even accept my call.

"Good job finding a back-up immediately. We could've been fired... or even killed," the waitress complimented me with a tremulous smile.

The room was surprisingly large and had simple off-white walls, but the large middle-portion of the floor was styled similar to a Monopoly game on mahogany floors. There were four sets of big cards in the middle with different words printed on top—drug, stab, shoot, and slice. On the starting block, which was close to the door, the four people, with the addition of Chanyeol, were just standing there skittishly. 

A familiar red dragon mask, but with a different attire, emerged from the mysterious darkness and stood on the center of the game floor. “Welcome!” he proclaimed zealously, “As you know, once you’ve entered the room, there’s no turning back. And if you try to escape, bang bang bang! Might as well test the odds, right?

Let me explain the mechanics of the game in detail:

As you can see, the floors are painted with what seems similar to a game of Monopoly. You act as your own pawns and there are 2 big dices that decide how many steps you have to make for each round. Words like drug, stab, shoot, and slice are written on some blocks and if you haplessly land on one of them, you have to pick out a corresponding card and do what it says. You cannot refuse. However, if you get doubles, you’re safe for one round. To win, you have to stay alive and/or land on space number 50, which is the red block that has the simple gun sign. Upon settling, we will play a simple game of Russian Roulette. If you are the first one to make it out alive from space 50, the 25 billion won is all yours. Any questions?”

Chanyeol swiftly raised his hand and asked, “Has there been any victorious winners?”      

“None yet,” G-Dragon answered, “Everyone died so far.” The players’ tuckered out eyes widened in terror.

He submitted another query, “I need to ask for more clarifications. Does everyone else have to die first before someone could win?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Can only one person land on space 50?”

“Not at all, but the winner will be the one who makes it out alive first.”

“Who takes the first turn in Russian Roulette?”

“I do. We have to make sure the game is honorable.”

“That’s all I needed to know. Thank you very much,” Chanyeol said with his regular smile.

“Now let’s introduce ourselves! Tell us your name, age, and why you are here,” the masked man suggested, “Let’s have the beautiful ladies first.”

The woman, who I presumed was a mother, began crying. “Hyeja,” she responded in between sobs, “45. My son is dying of a disease and I couldn’t afford medical treatment because my ex-husband took all of our money when he left.”

“That’s quite unfortunate. Wishing the best for your son,” he conveyed in a regrettable tone, “How about the woman with auburn hair?”

The lady with polished fingernails from a while ago smiled sweetly and introduced herself, “My name is Kim Munhee. I turned 30 last month. I am very unhappy with my job. I’d rather die than keep living this way.”

“What’s your job?”

“e,” she answered with modesty.

“Good luck. And the teenager?”

“Yoojung. 19. I want to run away from home,” she phrased in a cool demeanor and played with the ends of her soft, straight, and silky black hair.

The man, who was garbed like a member of the upper middle-class, introduced himself right away, “Jeong Seonghyeo. 26 years old. I want the money.”

“Last but not the least,” G-Dragon said as he pointed a finger at Chanyeol, suggesting that it was his turn.

“Hello! I am Park Chanyeol. I am currently 22 years old and was born on November 27, 1992. I joined because I think I can win.”

“I admire your character and conviction! Quite refreshing!” G-Dragon announced with a loud chortle, “Let’s begin!”

The players threw the dices forward to decide for their chronological arrangement in taking turns per round. Munhee, Seonghyeo, Hyeja, Chanyeol, and Yoojung ended up becoming the final sequence.

Munhee advanced four steps from the starting block. It was a safe zone and she instantly sighed in relief. Seonghyeo, however, landed on a block that said stab. A waitress took a card that had the same word written on it and showed it to us. It said, “Stab on thigh.” The same waitress then walked toward him and promptly lunged a knife on his left thigh. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground with a smash. A slight frown formed on Chanyeol’s mouth, but he kept himself from doing something about it, frightened of blowing his cover.

Hyeja, who became even more frantic, landed three blocks away from Munhee and cried in consolation.

It was finally Chanyeol’s turn. He pursed his lips together and pitched the dices with all his strength, making it bounce on the floor a little. Two fives were shown on the visible sides of the dices and he luckily advanced to a safe spot. The rest grumbled, especially Seonghyeo who was already bleeding unduly.

Yoojung landed on space number 3 and was given a pink, smiling pill, undoubtedly ecstasy, which she took without hesitation and caused her to illuminate. I busted a gut to dial Junmyeon’s phone again, but one of the waitresses got a hold of it. “Not now,” she said as she inserted my phone inside her skirt pocket.

For the second round, Munhee’s eyebrows and hair were completely shaved off. Seonghyeo’s forearm took a short slice, Hyeja was cut on her love handles, and Yoojung was given another dosage of pills. Chanyeol got a double six and was saved again, but he looked more uneasy than anyone else. “Shoot,” he cursed beneath his breath. I was becoming more nauseous at each passing minute.

For the third round, everyone ended up in safe areas, except for Munhee who was given . She coughed loudly upon receiving it. “Don’t act like you’re not used to it, ,” a waitress said with a heinous smirk.

For the fourth round, Munhee was looking worn out, Seonghyeo was pale from all the loss of blood, Hyeja was somehow holding on well physically, and Yoojung was ebullient with euphoria. Chanyeol, landed on a shot block, but the card’s action was cancelled by his first doubles. He was on space 42 and he was already hoping for the best.

For the fifth round, I was certain that he was charmed. He got an eight.

“Wow,” G-Dragon vocalized as he clapped condescendingly, “This game was kind of boring compared to the others. No one’s even dying yet. I guess you will be the first.”

“Let’s play Russian Roulette,” Chanyeol demanded with irresolution and without equivocation.

G-Dragon was taken aback by his certitude and sat on a stool, “Most people get scared.”

“Not me,” he replied with credence.

“Let’s see if you can win this,” G-Dragon snarked with disdain as he inserted a bullet into a revolver and began spinning it over and over again.

“Let’s see if you could even play,” Chanyeol teased assertively as he turned G-Dragon’s stool and sat it behind a mirror, “If you wouldn’t be able to cheat.” Chanyeol moved closer towards the dragon mask, placed the gun against G-Dragon’s head, and taunted, “To keep it fair, it’s your turn first, am I not mistaken? May I also have the pleasure of pulling the trigger?”

The room was aded with an overwhelming presence of silence and occasional grunting before G-Dragon guffawed, “See that switch close to the trigger? It prevents the firing pin from blowing my head up.” His gloved hand took over the ends of his mask and slowly lifted it away from his face. A visage of a good-looking man, who was in his late 20s, emerged and came into sight. His small features were proportional to his small face. The man behind the false face formed a sinister grin across his small lips, showing his nearly perfect white teeth. “You’re as cunning as I am,” he remarked in between chuckles, “I’m honestly not too fond of it.”

“What are you going to do now? Why are you doing this?” Chanyeol asked in an officious voice.

“I’ll tell you something,” G-Dragon’s baleful face expression did not change as he invited Chanyeol to move closer and murmured something into his sizable ears. He allowed him to take a peek of something under his leather gloves. Chanyeol’s countenance froze and G-Dragon said, “I accept my defeat. Take the stupid cash. I never needed it anyway." A waitress showcased a large steel brief case with piles of cash.

The door suddenly bursted open and policemen, including Officers Junmyeon and Youngwoon, pointed guns at everyone in the room. “You’re under arrest for multiple crimes such as murder, drug abuse, blackmailing, and… more crimes that you have to explain in court!” a woman cried out. She was dressed in sleek slacks and a ruffled maroon blouse. She was as pretty as she was scary, but I was grateful for her arrival. “Handcuff them and take them to the office! We still need to interrogate them. Take the rest to a nearby hospital!”

“Yes! Ma'am Seungwan!” the policemen complied right away.

As G-Dragon was being shackled—making absolutely no efforts of getting away—and walked out the door, he faced Chanyeol and screamed while letting his tongue out, “He also said he misses you a whole lot! Let's meet soon!”