“According to your resumes, you appear to also be fluent in Mandarin.” Here Lee Sooman paused. “In addition to all the other languages mentioned on this page.”

Yui shifted uncomfortably. Most of the information on said resume was fabricated, but of course the truthful statement had to be the outrageous one he noted with suspicion.

“We moved around a lot when we were younger,” she explained in one of their rare moments of honesty. He merely raised his eyebrows and didn’t comment any further on the topic.

“I imagine you must be wondering why I called you here. The reason I asked you two to come into the office today is because, as you probably already know, Super Junior will be leaving the country for a period of time.”

“They’re going to Taiwan, right?” Yui was pretty sure that one of the members said that. Or was that Singapore? Malaysia?

“They will be out of the country to attend various concerts and other promotions, as well as an award ceremony or two. During that time, there will be no opportunity for them to take lessons.”

Yui’s heart sank. “Does that mean we won’t be going with them?”

“That’s right. You will be notified of their next scheduled lessons after they come back, in the first week of December. So please continue to keep your schedules flexible.”

“Wait,” Kouichi frowned. “Exactly where are they going, again?”

The CEO waved his hands dismissively. “Various countries. I don’t exactly remember where. Actually, no, I don’t even know where.”

“Can’t we go with them?” Kouichi asked pointedly. “You know, I’m pretty sure Taiwan is one of their stops.”

“Singapore, too,” Yui added.

The CEO frowned. “No, that is unreasonable. They’re staying there for one night, at most. Their managers said that they will be traveling around several countries to attend their various schedules.”

“One of the members expressed interest in learning Mandarin,” Yui pressed. “As our resume dictates, we could teach them some phrases that they could use during their stay.”

“The member has no time to learn Mandarin,” Lee Sooman said curtly. “They’re going to be officially debuting in Japan next month; they have to focus on Japanese right now. Which is why we hired you.”

Yui bit her lip. He was right, of course, but what he wasn’t aware of was that the currently nine-active member boy band was a large moving target for any of the mafia gangs in the various countries they were visiting. Taiwan, Singapore, and Malaysia all had the triads, and there was no doubt that if any of them got wind of their travel plans, the band wouldn’t finish its itinerary with all its members intact.

“Do they have bodyguards when try travel abroad?” Obviously, Kouichi was thinking of the same thing.

“Bodyguards?” Lee Sooman snorted. “Why would they need bodyguards? The airport security is more than enough.”

“I meant after they left the airport,” Kouichi muttered.

“What if we had added street fighting to our list of accomplishments?” Yui muttered from the side of to her sister. She was only half-joking.

“Your concerns are quite unfounded,” Lee Sooman said, apparently having overheard. “They are going to be out of the country for a few days, and during that time there will be no lessons. End of discussion.” He stood up from his chair, and the twins, understanding this dismissal gesture, had no choice but to bow and leave the room.

“Maybe they’ll be okay,” Yui said hesitantly. “After all, it’s only a few days…”

“If I were the CEO, I’d personally make sure I at least know where they’re going,” Kouichi muttered. “Whether someone working in your company suddenly goes to Singapore, or Malaysia, or both, kind of makes a difference, you know?”

“I think it’s the managers who create their schedules and decide these things,” Yui guessed. “Maybe we can try to convince them?”

No such luck.

 “Are you kidding me?” Seunghwan asked in disbelief when they approached him. “You think money falls from the sky? No, we’re not paying extra money for plane tickets just so you can tour Asia with your favorite superstars.”

“Has that ahjusshi already forgotten that we’re their teachers?” Kouichi muttered as he stomped away.

“Something tells me he’s never quite accepted that fact,” Yui said wryly. “Given how we could more easily pass for their fans than anything else. And this sort of behavior really isn’t helping our case.”

 Kouichi sighed. “I guess it’s back to stalking their plane flight info?”

“Or we could just ask them directly,” Yui said. “Hey look, it’s Eunhyuk-san. Eunhyuk-sshi!”

“Ah—Yui-sshi,” he greeted her, coming over from the door. “And Kouichi-sshi, hey. What are you two doing at the office today?”

“Just finalizing our schedules with you,” Yui said carefully. “When are you leaving for Taiwan again?”

He grinned. “Tomorrow. The members are all excited. Why?”

“Has there been any announcement about us going with you?” Kouichi asked innocently. He looked slightly surprised. “I thought we were taking a private jet. With missA and 2AM, I think. Or maybe that was with f(x).”

Yui shrugged, not comprehending all the foreign names. But one term got through to her. “You’re taking a private jet?!”

“It’s because of our schedules,” he explained. “We’re going to be flying to several countries in a short span of days, so the company decided on this to save time.”

“Exactly how much time are we talking about?” Yui asked skeptically. “Enough time to sightsee?”

“Probably not,” he replied, looking disappointed, but his words relieved Yui.

“That decreases the chances of a snipe attack,” she whispered to Kouichi as Eunhyuk left. “Their long-stay in Osaka starts in December, so maybe that’s when the yakuza would make their attempt.”

“Given how it seems that the members themselves barely even know where they’re supposed to be going,” Kouichi agreed, “I guess that’s pretty likely. But man, a private jet! Even we never got to ride one of those.”

“Just wait until we inherit the empire,” Yui said, for a moment forgetting their situation.

“We’re not going to,” Kouichi was quick to remind her. “Remember?”

“I have a Japanese language question,” Sungmin announced later that day. Yui looked up.

“Well, this is different,” she smiled. “You came to us, instead of the other way around.”

“How did you know where to find us?” Kouichi asked interestedly.

“Siwon-sshi told me to come to the park,” Sungmin explained.

“How did Siwon-sshi know to find us at the park?” Yui asked, surprised.

Sungmin shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“Anyway, what is the question?”

“This.” Sungmin holds out a sheet of paper, on which some messy characters were scrawled in pencil.

Yui squinted and paused, not wanting to sound offensive. “Uh—”

“Is that supposed to be Hanja?” Kouichi asked, with her characteristic bluntness. Sungmin blushed. “I couldn’t read all the kanji,” he mumbled.

“Oh! This is Japanese!” Yui exclaimed, having just made sense of some of the scribbles. Sungmin flushed again, with slightly more embarrassment, while Yui covered and tried not to laugh.

Kouichi reached over with an unusual compassion to give him a pat on the arm—“Don’t worry, it’s not so bad,” she said cheerfully. “I used to write worse as a kid.”

Sungmin looked slightly appeased. “Well, a very persistent Japanese fan had been writing us letters, and we were all curious about what it said—”

“Couldn’t you have just shown us the letters?” Yui asked, amused, during which he flushed yet again.

“I wanted to practice my kanji writing,” he mumbled awkwardly.

Deciding that they had enough of teasing him now, Yui reached over to take the sheet of paper. “Okay. It says…”

And then she stopped.

“Sungmin-sshi,” she then said slowly, “where did you get this quote?”

He shrugged. “I told you, a persistent fan kept sending us letters. Each member must’ve gotten twenty each. Even Heechul-hyung received them.”

“What kind of fan would write to you in Japanese?”

Kouichi rolled her eyes. “A Japanese fan, perhaps?” She was glancing at the quote, and though she understood it, she didn’t pick up on its significance.

“Does it say something bad?” Sungmin asked cautiously, studying her face.

“Sungmin-sshi,” Yui interrupted him. “Tell me again—how did Siwon-sshi find out that we’d be here?”

Sungmin only looked perplexed. “I told you, I don’t know.” Seeing her still troubled, he hastily added, “but I can ask for you, if you want. Right now.”

“Please do,” Yui said, closing her eyes. She felt her sister’s hand reach hers, giving her a confused squeeze, and she opened them again.

“We’re still being tailed,” she said faintly in Japanese, and Kouichi instantly dropped her grip.

Meanwhile, Sungmin was calling his dongsaeng. “Hmm, I’m not reaching him right now,” he said. “He’s probably busy.” He glanced over at the twins, both of whom had become paler. “Was it really that urgent?”

“It’s—” Yui began, but then she was suddenly interrupted by Sungmin’s phone.

He picked it up for a moment, and then looked confused. The twins watched with wide eyes as he paused, and then held out his phone to them in slight disbelief. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Yui took the phone while Kouichi pressed her ears against the other side of the headset. “Moshi moshi?”

She only briefly registered Sungmin’s surprised face when the person on the other end spoke.

“Yui-san, how nice to speak to you at last. And I’m sure Kouichi-san is there, too.”

“Who are you?!”

There was definitely a mocking tone in his voice as the stranger answered, in perfect Japanese, “Can’t you tell?” There was even heavy emphasis on the last syllables.

He had an Osaka accent, Yui realized.

“One who chases after two hares won’t catch even one,” she then repeated evenly. The other two jolted slightly, recognizing the quote, but still could not have grasped its deeper significance.

After all, only she had seen those deleted emails.

“Very good,” he praised her. “I was wondering if you would ever pick up on those.”

“You mean you let me find them?” The gall of this man. He was messing with her?

The response was merely a chuckle. “Just wanted you to get a taste of my abilities,” he then replied, and in suddenly, all traces of cheer had disappeared from his tone.

“After all, you are dealing with the future heir of the Tokudaiji clan of Japan.”

“That’s our line,” Yui spat, but laughing sardonically, he merely hung up and left them to their ruminations.

The girls were huddled outside the entrance of the 12^th floor, just a few feet down from the door. Using the hallway lights as illumination, both were silently poring over the papers Yui had printed from the local library. She had finally managed to retrieve some information about the new apparent heir of the Tokudaiji-gumi.

“According to these documents, he has a pretty dirty track record,” Yui read, flipping through one of the pages. “Whether it’s breaking in, drug deals, grand auto thefts, kidnapping, loan-sharking, or bid-rigging, this Nobuo Takoda has done it all.”

“Guess now we know why he qualifies,” Kouichi muttered. Yui was silent, thinking.

“Don’t you find it strange that we couldn’t find anything earlier?” she suddenly asked. “Especially since we ran searches nearly every day.”

“He’s toying with us,” Kouichi responded darkly. “He’s purposely letting us see this.”

Yui threw down the papers in disgust. After Nobuo had ended his call on Sungmin’s cell-phone the day before, she had revealed the significance of the quote to Kouichi. Sungmin had been merely treated to an abridged version of the account.

It wasn’t easy explaining to him how a complete stranger got his phone number, though; in the end, the only thing she could do was to warn him and Siwon to change their numbers as soon as possible.

Now, Super Junior was abroad in Taiwan. Their presumed safety lay in the hope that Nobuo, like themselves, didn’t have the time to chase after their hectic schedules and would thus leave them alone. But that thought brought very little consolation.

Another wakeful night was spent at the hotel gym locker room, as both girls tossed and turned with restless sleep.

“You don’t have a cell-phone?” Kyuhyun had asked her in a shocked voice. “In this day and age? How have you been managing to survive?” The last part was a joke, she knew.

Yui smiled vaguely. “I’ve somehow managed to live without one.”

“But what are we going to do if we want to call you?” She could tell he was referring to the earlier incident with Sungmin.

“I’m sorry about that,” she apologized. “In the future, our friends won’t call you guys again to reach us.”

“I was talking about the members,” he said, looking confused. And then he blushed slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

Yui gave him a grateful smile. “I know,” she said softly.

“You should think about getting one,” he urged her earnestly. “So in case something comes up, we can reach each other.”

The corners of twitched. “You sure care a lot about your Japanese teachers.”

In response, he flushed again. “I meant in case of last-minute changes in schedules, those sorts of things.” Given the hectic absurdity of their daily activities sometimes, this wasn’t too hard to understand.

She had then nodded her head, acquiescing to his argument. “We’ll think about it.”

So that was why today she was standing near the entrance to the LG Telecom store, face and hands glued to the display windows in rather shameful wanting.

Kouichi had left abruptly the night before. Among the papers they had scattered all over the floor, a select few printed photos had caught her attention; upon focusing on a particular one, she had grabbed them all and dashed out. “I’ll be back,” she had called over her shoulder, and as she ran away into the night, Yui realized that she couldn’t relocate until after her return. Their handheld earpieces and microphones had run out of energy weeks ago, and for some reason, the twins hadn’t been able to find a store that sold the particular batteries that they required for power.

So at the end of the day, it was just further proof that they needed another form of long-distance communication.

“May I help you, miss?” The store owner himself had now come outside. Yui had been standing there for over ten minutes.

She blushed. “I—I think I want a cell-phone,” she mumbled embarrassedly.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he said, giving her an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you come in?”

Yui obediently followed him in, and as he started describing various models to her, she glanced around the store.

“—and here, our latest model right here is extremely compatible for surfing the Internet, with a mini keyboard and—”

“Say,” she said, suddenly interrupting him, “I was wondering if you could tell me more about how cell-phone radio networks operate? In great technical detail, please...”

“Present for you,” Yui said, tossing Kouichi a package as she returned to the 12^th floor.

Kouichi stared at the clear part of the wrapping. “A cell-phone?” she asked incredulously.

Yui shrugged. Her own had already been disassembled and reassembled a few times as she tried to figure out each part’s functions, but for Kouichi’s sake she had chosen to spare hers from the experimentation.

“Makes our lives easier, don’t you think?” she asked instead. “I couldn’t spend too much time at the library these last few days because I never knew when you were coming back.”

As if the reasons for her constant library trips reminded Kouichi of the cause for her own excursions, her face suddenly darkened. Yui noticed.

Directing her attention now to a set of papers, of which contained some more printed photos, Kouichi muttered, “I found some interesting results.”

Yui glanced at her sister carefully before taking them from her hands. Some of the photos merely contained scenery or plants; others showed building complexes and small shops. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Those pictures,” Kouichi said evenly, “were supposedly taken at various locations of the Ssang-Yong-Pa headquarters, in the Gwangju district.” Yui nodded, recognizing the name of the Korean Ggangpae, or mafia group, that their family once almost had an alliance with.

Kouichi took a breath and continued, “So that’s where I went. Because I recognized some of the scenery in those photos.”

Yui froze, understanding the implications of that statement.

 “But,” Kouichi persisted, “it—it wasn’t there.”

“You mean—the cemetery—?”

Kouichi shifted some papers aside until she found the one she was looking for. It had merely one picture printed on it, in grayscale. Gravestones filled the entire page; though they came in all sorts of different shapes and sizes, they all shared one distinction in common, and Yui was pretty sure it wasn’t due to the photograph’s quality: The lettering on all of them was notably indistinguishable, or perhaps in some of them, altogether nonexistent.

In the center stood a particularly impressive gravestone; it was a statue of a swordsman of some sort, wearing excessive armor and striking a pose.

“None of the gravesites I visited had matched the one in this picture,” Kouichi said quietly. “The locals at every location I went to said that no such monument existed.”

Her eyes were becoming dangerously hard. Yui quickly shifted the pictures to a different one; the next one showed some foliage. Kouichi glanced down at it and seemed to be reminded of something.

“Remember when we administered that drug to Ryeowook-san?” she asked hesitantly. “Back on the train.”

How could Yui forget?

“The concoction that I used actually came from some dried plants. Like that supply we had some back at home... Now that I think about it—really, why didn’t I notice sooner—?”

“The anesthetic you used on Ryeowook-san was made from a certain plant,” Yui rephrased, trying to follow Kouichi’s line of thought.

“It was used on me, too,” Kouichi said quietly. “Back then.”

Yui was silent for a few moments, processing.

“There was an old lady down in one of the villages,” Kouichi said abruptly. “She recognized the plant, but said it wasn’t native here.”

“If we had a supply at home, then, couldn’t you have checked—”

“—where it came from?” Kouichi laughed, hollowly. “Yeah, why hadn’t I ever bothered to do that sooner? Because this plant is from Japan.”

The pieces were starting to fall into place. “So the plant is not from Korea… but the other pictures?”

“The lady recognized their location, too,” Kouichi said numbly. “Because she had lost a grandson there, many years ago. To the Sumiyoshi-kai of Osaka.”

The fragmented pieces of Kouichi’s explanation finally fell into place. Stunned, Yui’s hands jerked and the papers she held plunged to the floor, scattering majestically in a large arc around their still standing figures.

“That can’t be…” she said dumbly. “So after all this time…”

“After all this time,” Kouichi repeated, her voice bitter with emotion, “I had been mistaken. Eleven years ago I had thought we were held captive by the Ssang-Yong-Pa in Korea, when it turns out that after all these years…

 “Our brother had been murdered in Osaka.”