“In all fairness, I think he’s doing us a favour,” Taemin grinned, rubbing his lips with a finger. He had recently dyed his hair blonde again, the sun reflecting off it made it glow golden. He was wearing a pair of comfortable jeans and a black hoodie, leaning lazily against Sungjong’s couch. Even though he seemed like he was having a languid conversation, his other hand was perched near the lining of the couch, under which Sungjong kept a Colt .42 – a common knowledge to only his close associates. This was probably the safest place for them, yet, Taemin never could let go fully; underneath the cool exterior, he was ever alert.

“You think so,” Sungjong commented, smiling back at his comrade.

“I mean he’s putting all our tiny and small competitors – blah should I even call them competitors - in jail, effectively clearing the path for us. Not like we couldn’t take care of them ourselves, but since the police are so happy to help…” Taemin guffawed, his eyes disappearing.

“I never thought Myungsoo would transfer to Narcotics, like never. I thought he would run away from it as far away as possible. It was already a sore spot with his mother being an addict an all,” Sungjong mused.

Taemin straightened up, watching him closely.

“You know he’s doing this for you – to find out who the real you were.”

Sungjong raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You know,” Taemin sighed, “that fool still can’t comprehend that the Lee Sungjong he was in love with was actually Blood Lily. To you it might not seem like a lot, but for others, it’s almost unbelievable!”

“Fair enough.” Sungjong shrugged. “But you know,” he leaned forwards towards his partner, “what else is there for me? I mean I am the Blood Lily, where’s the excitement in anything anymore?”

A wind of caution crossed Taemin’s eyes. Getting to his feet, he shoved his fists into his pocket, looking worried.

“What do you mean, Sungjong? We just entered the US market, North America will be ours soon. How is this not exciting?”

“Of course that’s exciting.” Sungjong shook his head. “But what about me? I’m here, hiding, away from everything. I miss the thrill – the risk-taking, the…recognition.”

Taemin’s face darkened.

“It almost got you killed last time.”

“Yet, here I am.”

Taemin’s face was masklike. There was tense silence in the room, broken only by a pair of feet shuffling uncomfortably. They both looked up to see a third man in the room – whose presence they had almost forgotten. He was tall; remarkably broad-shouldered and muscular. He was wearing a black leather jacket that did nothing to hide his impressive physique. He was standing still with his legs together and hands linked in front of him. It was amazing that how a man like him was able to blend into the room for so long. They turned away from him, facing each other again.

“Maybe I want to venture out,” Sungjong continued, “let people know what I've done, stop becoming a shadow.”
His partner stared at him with unblinking eyes.
“You're mad,” he said, so calmly that Sungjong was a bit worried. “You're crazy, I'm calling your doctor.”

Sungjong just laughed, alarming Taemin even more.

“That's it I'm-” He made a motion to reach for the phone but Sungjong stopped him.

“Taemin.” Sungjong used a voice he didn’t often anymore. It was half-reprimanding and half something else - it instilled faith in people, made non-believers believe. It was the voice. In the beginning of his career, he had used this tone with people, made them trust him and follow his orders blindly. This was the voice of the Blood Lily.
Taemim knew that very well, and he believed in the voice. Perhaps the fact that Sungjong still knew how to use the voice reassured him that he wasn't mad, yet. But he was still struggling to grasp the insane thing Sungjong was proposing.

“Can you excuse us?” Taemin said pointedly, aimed at the man who was standing silently behind them. The man looked to Sungjong, who nodded.

When he’d left the room, Sungjong observed, “You don't like him.”

“I don't trust him,” Taemin corrected. “He left his job in the army to work for you.”

“Well, to be accurate, he left his job first so I won’t say he left to work for me,” Sungjong reasoned. “Shonwu has proved himself don’t you think? He’s proved to be a great bodyguard, although I’m not sure why I need one.”

Taemin glared at him, as if an unreasonable child was asking a futile question.

If he wanted to, he could have not discussed the matter any farther and do exactly what he pleased. But Taemin was the closest thing he had to a family, and even though “Oh come on,” Sungjong finally said, laughing, “don't you think you're overreacting?”

For one whole minute, Taemin was quiet. His eyes grew bloodshot and his lips trembled, as if he was replaying a nightmare, reliving it. When he spoke, his voice was hushed.

“I was the one who had pulled you out of the rubble, I had to watch blood gushing out of you, I had to pray so that we’re not too late, I had to hear the doctor say that you might not make it – Sungjong, I … almost lost you.” Taemin wasn’t the type to shed tears; in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him cry. Right now, he was dangerously close.

Sighing, Sungjong sat closer to the other man, putting an arm around him. He could feel Taemin’s shoulder tense up.

“You know nothing’s going to happen to me as long as I have you guys,” he said softly.

“Who exactly do you mean?” Taemin asked sharply.

Even though Sungjong had been the original planner of STR DIENASTY, Taemin and Ryeweook had been with him from the very beginning. After all these years however, Ryewook had quit. It was soon after the explosion that had almost cost Sungjong his life and STR had moved under the shadows while its leader recuperated. Apparently almost losing Sungjong had had a deep impact on him and he had recognized the what it really meant to be a part of STR.

“All my friends and family are here, I don’t think I would have gone mad if something had really happened to you or Taemin,” Ryewook had told Sungjong. It was a mark of their friendship and trust that Sungjong had let him leave quietly, knowing he’d never betray him. Whether Ryewook would be able to get accustomed to normal life was another question.

Once he had recovered, Sungjong had reshaped his empire. He had gotten rid of everything related to STR – every building, every empty lot, so that no one could track it down. He had taken on a new name for his empire – Nightshade. In one of the first ever books he had read as a child, he had come across a poisonous flower called the nightshade. A flower, beautiful but deadly – it was to his liking. Under Nightshade, his empire had stretched above and beyond, into China, Japan, Vietnam, and finally now they were entering the North American market. Every part of the blueprint in his mind was coming to life.

“I mean you, mainly. And I trust Shonwu.” Rising from his chair, Sungjong went to stand by the French window. It was almost dusk, he could faintly see the rose bushes in his garden.    

“Well if Shonwu or anyone so much as touch a hair of yours-” Taemin kept his words hanging but Sungjong knew. It wouldn’t end well for them.

“In case-” He was interrupted by the ringing of Taemin’s phone. It must have been someone important as taking a look at the caller ID, he sprang up and walked to the next room with a frown. Sungjong kept standing, looking at the roses grow darker and darker. He had a meeting tomorrow about the US expansion – he needed to brush up on his English. There would be translators of course, but he liked to know what was going on.

There was no more business to be taken care of today, so he let his mind slip, ever so slightly. And just as habit, his brain started conjuring pictures of Sunggyu, memories of when he was just his carer. He thought about the recent meeting with him – Sunggyu had come for his brother, he cared about his brother, he loved Woohyun; there was no room for Sungjong. No, there was no room for the Blood Lily. If he was just plain old Lee Sungjong…

As for Myungsoo, he wasn’t sure how he felt about him. He was sorry of course, like he was sorry towards many of his victims. But what else could he do?

When Taemin entered the room again, his face was ashen.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ryewook,” Taemin gulped. “He’s been taken.”

“Taken?”

“Arrested, by Narcotics.”

Sungjong was confused.

“But…why? He’s got nothing to do with us anymore.”

Sighing Taemin plopped down on a chair, looking defeated.

“He had been arrested on some drug trafficking charges he had before he started working with us. I don’t know if they know his relation with STR but it was Myungsoo’s precinct who made the arrest and if that is the case-”

“You think Myungsoo arrested him on purpose to interrogate him about STR?”

“Why would he arrest someone who has a 20-year old minor drug-trafficking charge?” Taemin blew air out slowly through his mouth. “We need to do something before Ryewook opens his mouth.”

“He wouldn’t,” Sungjong said immediately. “He’d never betray us.”

“I hope so,” he muttered thoughtfully. He was already planning their next step. “We need to know exactly what’s going on.”

“Find out,” Sungjong said, watching darkness engulf everything outside. “Find out quickly.”