He places one hand on my waist and another on my shoulder, and we begin waltzing. He is incredibly graceful, his movements light and fluid. I, unfortunately, am not. I proceed to trample on his toes six times- I’m counting- and throw out a handful of gruff apologies. At least my mask is covering my face; the man can’t see how red my cheeks are. After I trip over his left foot and nearly go tumbling to the ground, I back away from him.

“I think I’m just going to sit down,” I mumble.

“Is it because- oh, don’t worry. You’re getting better. It takes practice.”

“If I dance any longer, I’m going to put you in a cast.”

The man chuckles. “It’ll take a lot more than that to hurt me.”

“Wow. Brave words.”

“I am pretty-,”

And then a gong resonates through the air. Everyone around me suddenly switches to a new partner and, without missing a beat, continues dancing.

Jesus. What is this? Are gangsters required to know how to waltz nowadays?

“I’ll see you around,” the man says.

Then someone else places a hand on my shoulder and we begin dancing.

After a while, I start to get a hang of it all. My partners include a short, stocky man with wrinkled hands, a girl with a high laugh and pretty blonde ringlets, and a bulky man who wouldn’t stop talking. Despite myself- despite the situation I am in- I find myself having fun. I engage everyone in small talk, attempting to discover more about the identity of the man who called me here, but my conversations with them usually veer off to unrelated topics, such as Jackson’s hot new ride (whoever that is) or who the infamous Jina is dating this week.

The tension in my shoulders disappears; I laugh freely, I joke around. Holy , it’s like I’m getting back in the loop again.

And then the gong sounds for the fifth time and someone snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me towards them.

The moment I turn around and see his pitch black mask, his fitted Armani suit, the confidence in his demeanor- god, I can’t explain it, but I know.

“You,” I growl.

“I don’t think so, darling,” the drawls in that deep, husky voice as I reach for the knife strapped under my gown. His hand lazily grabs my wrist, laces his fingers through mine, and drags my arm to the low of his back all in the matter of seconds. My eyes widen. If he had not actually done this to me, I never would have even seen it happen. I stumble backwards, disheveled, and the man takes the opportunity to pluck off my voice transmitter and mic and crush them in a fist, like they are nothing more than bugs.

“We wouldn’t want anyone listening in on us, would we?” he murmurs.

“I thought I was supposed to find you.”

“I just couldn’t wait, I suppose.”

“So are you going to tell me what you know?”

“Perhaps.”

“What was the point of me coming here if you aren’t going to tell me anything?”

The man laughs. The spicy, musky scent of his cologne wafts into my nose and- - I resist the urge to inhale deeply and relish his scent. God, this is so ed up. Everything about this- about him- is so ed up. It is my first time seeing the man in proper lighting. Although his mask obscures his face, I can tell that he is young, with coiffed brown hair, a tall, lean frame, a white chrysanthemum pinned on the lapel of his suit. He kneads soft circles into my skin with the hand on my waist and an involuntary shudder of pleasure runs through my body.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you in a gown,” he murmurs. “You look beautiful, Lia.”

    “Go yourself,” I breathe.

    “I was hoping to you, actually,” he says, causing my face to go violently red. “But first, let’s dance.”

And then the orchestra begins playing a song.

I am rooted to the ground in absolute horror.

This song.

The muted yellow light illuminates the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting a soft glow through the restaurant. The sound of faint piano music- mixed with hushed chatter as well as glasses clinking- is the only noise in the room.

I am hidden behind a wall divider. A waiter’s uniform two sizes too big hangs off my body, weighed down by a metal gun hung off the pocket of my jeans. I nervously peer out at a round table at which several well-dressed individuals are dining at.

“Are you sure about this?” Zelo anxiously asks me. He is standing across from me, an apprehensive look on his face.

I give him a firm nod, attempting to mask my trepidation. “We were hired to do this,” I tell him in a matter-of-fact tone. “We have to go through with it.”

“Y-Yeah, but we’ve never done anything like this before-,”

“There’s a first time for everything. Besides, I’ll have to do this to ZE:A. Right? I- I’m just preparing myself. And this- Kim Byunghyun- is horrible. You know what he did to all those girls. This is... this is a good thing.”

Zelo is silent. Laughter rings from the table. I see the man kiss a long-haired, high-cheekboned woman on the cheek. I spot a few children sitting at the table and a nauseous feeling rises in my stomach. How can he talk like that- laugh like that- while knowing that he runs one of the biggest ion rings in Asia?

And how am I supposed to kill him in front of all these people?

The pianist in the corner of the room nears the crescendo of the song he is playing. His hands overlap as he bows his head, weaving a powerful, terrible melody with his fingers and I wonder how he does not manage to stumble on the keys of the instrument. The music fills my chest, overpowers my senses, takes over my body. I take a deep, staggering breath. My arm seems to raise of its own accord.

“Lia,” Zelo says, but I do not hear him.

The music grows louder and louder.

I pull the trigger.

In the next moment, the man has collapsed onto the table. The soft laughter and comfortable atmosphere of the restaurant vanishes instantly as everyone erupts into terrified screams, lunging towards the man, gasping at the blood gushing from a wound in his head. Bile rises up in my throat and I grab Zelo’s hand and we sprint out the service exit of the building- why isn’t the music stopping?- and holy , no, I can’t think about this, I can’t afford to stop and think about what I’ve done, I have to run, I have to run-

“How,” I breathe.

The man slides the back of his hand down my cheek, tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“We have to dance, Lia,” he calmly tells me. “We’re blocking the way.”

His hands gently guide me to the rhythm of the music. I slip over his feet and he catches me, tenderly wrapping his arms around my waist to stabilize me. This movement seems to jolt me out of my shock; I snap out of my stunned trance, pull myself together, place a hand on his shoulder and another one in his.

We step in time to the song. The two of us are so close to each other that his torso is pressing against mine; my body is flush up against him. It is too intimate. An outsider would look at us and think that we were lovers.

But it could not be further from the truth.

The tension between us is suffocating; our silence is deafening. Every note of the piano causes goosebumps to rise up on my skin. Who is this man? How does he know so much about me? He knows things that he shouldn’t know, that no one but I know-

“Harald’s Dream,” the man says in a silky smooth voice. “That’s what this piece is called. It was played at La Sofia on a certain night four years ago- the night of your first kill, to be exact.”

I bristle.

“Do you know the name of the man you killed, Lia?”

“Does it matter?” I snap.

The man smirks. “You should at least know.”

“Then tell me.”

“I don’t think so. That’s too easy.”

“You’re dangling pieces of information above my head, and then snatching them away the moment I reach for them. What’s your endgame?”

“You haven’t followed my instructions, Lia. I said that if you found me by midnight, I’d tell you.”

I narrow my eyes. “I found you, didn’t I?”

“No. I found you.”

My hands tighten around his in anger. “Are you ing kidding me?”

The man does not say anything. Instead, he lowers his face so that it is right above mine, cradles my face with his hands. My body feels like it is frozen in place. If we were not wearing masks, I would have thought that he is about to kiss me.

“Find me then, Lia,” he utters.

And then in the next moment, the gong has sounded and everyone moves around, looking for a new partner, and the man disappears in the whirlwind of activity and I push through the crowd, searching for someone with a deep black mask wearing a white chrysanthemum and someone bumps into me and I say excuse me and my eyes dart around the room-

I see the man disappear through a door at the back of the room.

“Excuse me,” I say, pushing through the crowd. My eyes are glued to the spot where the man was standing. Loud, bombastic music trumpets through the room- large gowns swirl past me, leaving flashes of mint green and royal blue and velvety purple.

The door opens to a flight of stairs, which I hurry up; a long, dark hallway stretches ahead of me. It is utterly silent, save for a few strains of orchestra music from the ballroom.

    I tense. In one fluid movement, I rip off my dress, leaving myself in a bra and shorts. My knives are in my hands. I slowly pace forward.

    And then a flash of silver whips through the air and I jerk away and it comes so close to my skin that I can feel it whiff the hairs on my arm.

    A figure launches itself at me, a blade aimed straight for my throat. I deflect their knife with my own and slam my leg into his side in a roundhouse kick. My fist slams straight into their stomach and the person emits a low groan- judging by the deep timbre of the voice, it must be a man. All of a sudden, however, someone kicks the back of my knees, causing me to involuntarily collapse to the ground. , there must be two people here.

I roll away just as a foot comes crashing down in the space where my head was mere seconds ago. My arms lunge outward and grab onto a pant leg near my face; I sharply tug forward on the fabric and the figure standing above me topples to the floor and does not stir. The other man who had been attacking me growls in anger. Before he can make a move, I slash my knife across his abdomen and he cries out in pain.

I scramble up, hurrying away from the two men and further through the hallway.

. This is bad. This is so bad. I am fighting multiple assailants in a dark area with no knowledge of who or what I am up against, no communication venues with Himchan, Sora, and Zelo, and no exit plan.

Find me then, Lia.

I grit my teeth and forge on ahead.

I don’t take ten steps before someone else pounces on me. This time, the knife they are using succeeds in slashing me. I stumble backwards, clutching my arm in agony. Waves of pain radiate through my body but I force them aside, brandishing my blade and angrily stabbing my assailant. I do not see where I strike them, but they let out a gasping breath and trip back; I ball my hands up in fists together and slam it down on their head, rendering the person unconscious.

Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. I can do this. I can get to the man. The faint outlines of a door at the end of the hallway are becoming visible to me- just a little closer, just a little more-

And then someone slams into me with what feels like the force of a truck.

Before I can even react, the figure slams the heel of their palm into my solar plexus. I double over, clutching my stomach, and the person hoists me on his shoulder and slams me to the ground. Stars explode in my vision. This person is different. There is something about this person’s attacking technique and fighting style that makes the hackles on the back of my neck rise.

I am warier of this opponent.

I somersault away from them and shakily stand up. This time, when they attack me again, I am ready. I twist my body to the side, dodge their punch, and then grab their wrist, jerking his arm backwards in a sharp movement. They let out a sharp hiss and block my own hit with their forearm. The two of us are locked in a situation in which neither of us can gain the upper hand. I reach out to jab my thumb into a pressure point on the person’s neck, but my fingers wrap around a silver chain instead.

Perfect, I think, and yank forward-

The figure emits a furious snarl and plants a kick directly to my stomach. I lurch backwards, my arms clasped around my midriff-

And then someone wraps an arm around my waist from behind. The cold blade of a knife rests on my neck.

“It’s midnight,” the man whispers in my ear. “Game over, Lia.”

And then I black out.

“Get down, Lia!” Subin screams, and the next thing I know, someone has launched themselves on top of me. I tumble to the ground, my vision blurred with dust and debris. My eyes shut and I will myself to stop rolling, will the gunfire to cease. All I can feel is a heavy weight pressing down on my body.

And then suddenly Woohee shrieks, “Serri!”  

Something trickles down my cheek. I blink open my eyes.

My jaw drops in horror.

Serri is lying on top of me. Blood is dripping down onto my cheek from a bullet wound on her temple. Her eyes are staring straight ahead at me, seeing but unseeing. She is dead.

“Oh, no,” I whimper, scrambling up. “No, no, Serri-,”

The masked men shooting at us launch another tirade of bullets, and to my ultimate shame, I am forced to cover myself with Serri’s corpse. Her body is riddled with bullets as I cower down underneath her, tears gushing down my face. Blood is raining down upon me. The sticky red fluid seeps through the fabric of my clothes, stains my skin. Ah Young lets out a scream of pain; out of the corner of my eye, I can see her fall to the ground, clutching a wound on her arm.

This is all my fault. If I hadn’t begged Dal Shabet to bring me along on their mission- , , , Serri was so happy, she wanted me to be her apprentice, she had so much hope for me- all of them did- but in the end, I am just a deadweight who led them straight into a y-trap.

I can see the desperate, anguished, accusatory looks in Dal Shabet’s eyes. They stare at me as we duck behind barrels and walls, waiting for our deaths. This is my fault. I am weak. I am useless. I am the reason why Serri is dead.

I killed her.

I killed their teammate.

The men continue shooting at us. I can see the looks of savage triumph in their eyes.

Something snaps inside of me.

My hands push through the pieces of mangled flesh on Serri’s body, the bullet-riddled skin. I pry out the knife clenched between her fingers.

    And then I launch myself at the men.

    Pure adrenaline course through my veins as I slit the first man’s throat. Blood gushes out from his neck as he staggers backward, his eyes round in shock. The men are completely caught off guard by the ferocity of my attack. I kick another man in the stomach and he doubles over, wheezing. The sound of a gun echoes through the air- I hurl myself away just in time but the bullet catches my calf and an agonizing pain radiates through my leg- but I force it aside and throw myself at the shooter, jabbing him in the chest.

Suddenly, I feel a man collapse on my feet, a bullet wound in his head. Viki is standing behind me, a gun pointed straight at him. The members of Dal Shabet are rallying up and striking the men, using the momentum from my attack to beat them down. They collapse like dominoes; I move from man to man, slashing their skin, their blood splattering all over my hands.

And then finally I reach the last man standing. He dodges my punch and jabs his knee right in the center of my arm, causing a resounding crack! to ring through the air. I gasp in pain- my arm is certainly broken- but I cannot stop, I cannot let him win. Gritting my teeth, I headbutt the gun in his hands- another wave of pain pierces my temple- causing the weapon to jolt from his grip. I take the opportunity to slam my foot into his groin and wrench my arms from his grasp.

He stumbles back just the slightest and I stick my blade straight into his heart. A gasp escapes his lips.

I bring my knife down on him again. The image of Serri’s dead body behind me flashes through my mind.

Another stab.

My parents’ bodies lie in marble caskets as grating organ music echoes through the funeral room.

Another stab.

Gunshots. Blood. Death.

Stab. Stab. Stab-

“Lia!” a voice screams. Someone yanks my arms back. “Stop it!”

I writhe against the person’s grip. The man below me is utterly mangled. There is blood and skin everywhere.

I look around. Bodies lie all around me. The members of Dal Shabet are gaping at me, horror-stricken. There is fear in their eyes.

I blink.

It hits me.

A second passes. Two seconds. Three seconds.

And then my entire body starts shaking and I clap my hands to my cheeks and a sob escapes my lips and I realize what I have just done.

“No,” I whisper, writhing around. “No. No!”

“Lia!” someone exclaims, and I frightfully open my eyes and Sora is looking down at me, worry in her eyes, as Zelo cradles me in his arms.