Wonpil ducks under the bead curtain leading into the dim underground. All at once he's hit by the musky scent of essence mingled with tobacco, and the sensation is intoxicating and suffocating all in one. He coughs, trying to spare his airways some of the assault. He's been here so many times but this is the one thing that always takes awhile to adjust to.

The only sources of lighting paint the enclosed space in hues of red and purple, giving it a sensual air that comes off to Wonpil more as eerie. After all, he knows exactly what goes on behind the scenes here. 

A lady walks up to him, clad in a skin-hugging faux leather dress that barely covers a third of her thighs. 

"Back again, Sir?" she asks in a sultry undertone, draping a long, purple feather scarf around his shoulders. Wonpil pays no mind to her finger tracing the outline of his jaw as he looks around the room. The girl pouts and tugs on his chin to make him look at her. She perks up when she finally has his attention and leans forward, tugging on his shirt. 

"How about we get you a drink and-" 

"Where's Angela?" he interrupts coldly.

"She's busy," she replies in a heartbeat, stepping closer as she slides her fair palms over the length of Wonpil's shoulders, before lightly resting one of them on his chest. "Why don't you hang out with me instead, tonight?"

Wonpil reaches up, his fingers circling around the woman's wrist and for a moment she brightens, thinking he's going to accept her offer unlike every other night. But then her hands are eased off of him, set down by her sides and her scarf is draped back onto her own lanky frame. 

"I'll come back when she isn't busy," he says, stepping away. "Or, you know. I could just find her myself." 

The brow he has raised in challenge is one she's well aware she can't counter - she knows better than to trust those boyish, deceivingly innocent looks of his; she knows what trouble this man can cause. Sure, he's one of their better clients - always respectful, pours his own drinks. 

Honestly, the girls wonder why he even patronises their establishment. Granted, they've had their fair share of weird clients, and it wasn't unusual to get the random, quaint chap who simply wanted a chat or someone to accompany  him as he drank his sorrows away. 

But they all realised there was more to him than his broody gaze and gentle demeanour after seeing the way he handled one of their clients who had started thrashing around, having had one too many drinks. The middle-aged man had almost gotten physical with one of the staff, and things really could have gotten bad if Wonpil hadn't stepped in in time. Since that night, he had for himself a little fan club out of the employees in the bar. 

Though somewhat reluctant, the girl tosses her scarf over her shoulder and saunters off, Wonpil following closely behind. Soon they stand before a mahogany door leading to one of the private rooms. 

Wonpil leans against the wall, concealing himself from view as the door is opened, and the woman saunters in to retrieve her colleague. He hears a hearty guffaw from inside, and spies the client in the room through the small crack in the door. "Target located," he whispers into his wristwatch, as he continues to visually assess the room.

His breath catches when he notices a familiar frame just next to the man, pouring a drink into the shot glass held between his fingers. The woman who guided him here, Laura, takes a seat on the other side of the portly middle-aged man. She twirls her hair on her index finger as she watches the scene before her with slight disinterest, waiting for a time to interrupt. 

When she catches Angela’s eye, she nods towards the door, mouthing ‘Kim’ in explanation. Angela returns her attention to her client who’s insisting for the third time that night that that ‘take this someplace else’. She resists the urge to roll her eyes as she politely declines, saying she still has work until morning.

"Oh come on, I’ll pay you thrice as much as your boss does! Don't be such a prude!" he teases, hands sliding down to her while he puckers his lips insistently. 

She grins, bending down to distract him with the view of her exposed chest, making him loosen his hold as his jaw falls shamelessly agape. Stepping forward, she places a finger on his lips, successfully making him drop his hands but she hides a grimace when he takes her finger between his lips, on it. She's just glad he doesn't notice as her smile thins. 

Regular clients are one thing. Creepy rich s like these who act like they own the world and think that women adoring them is a given and thus they can always have their way? The worst. But this is her job, and she is good at it. Disgusting clients or not.

"I'll be back in just a minute. Laura here-" Angela nods her head back to the girl who had brought Wonpil over, "-will graciously keep you entertained while I'm gone."

The man's gaze shifts to glance at her colleague, taking in her long exposed legs but grumbling at her apparent lack of a rack. "I want you, though," he insists. She holds back from smacking him for that statement and instead escorts Laura over. 

"I trust you'll find that Laur here is a much better singer than I am. You'll come to enjoy her presence more than mine, soon enough," she winks to seal the deal and Laura takes the cue to take the seat next to their client, cozying up to his side while undoing one of the buttons on her leather bodice. This successfully draws his attention away, and Angela slips out of the room to find Wonpil who was observing the entire exchange with gritted teeth. 

He feels bad for dragging Laura into this, but well, this is their job after all. But he knows what’s about to happen here... He just hopes she gets to escape in time too.

“Who was that?” he demands as soon as they’re out of earshot. 

“It’s lovely to see you too, Mr. Kim,” Angela counters as she walks on, headed towards the break room. She stops Wonpil with a light shove as he attempts to follow her past the door labelled ‘Staff Only’. She emerges a moment later, a glass of iced water in hand. Leaning on the wall with her arms folded, she raises a brow at the suit-clad man before her.

“Well, you just rudely interrupted my session with a regular client. Care to explain why?”

Instead of answering, Wonpil stares at her dead in the eye and repeats, “Who... was in that room?”

“I told you. Just another regular client and his guests. Surely you aren’t jealous, dear,” she smirks, sprinkling some water on his face to which he barely blinks. “We’re friends, right? And besides, you can’t judge a couple fellow office workers coming here to unwind after hours just as you’re here from time to time, can you? Even if you are one of the weird ones that come here just to chat. Not that I don’t mind a good conversation partner.”

She swirls the ice in her cup as she babbles on, casually steering off topic. But it doesn’t go unnoticed.

"You were uncomfortable with him. I’ve seen you - you’re hardly that way with any other clients. I want the truth, Angela." 

Her expression crumples up at that statement, and Wonpil knows he has accidentally struck a chord. She straightens up and steps forward so she’s face-to-face with him.

"You want the truth?” she folds her arms while rolling her eyes, “Well that's rich, coming from you." 

Wonpil furrows his brows, confused what she could possibly mean. 

"I've got some news for you, Officer Kim," she pushes her index finger against his chest as she smirks at his shocked expression. "That's right, I know who you are. You waltz in here with your chin up like you're all high and mighty and think you can what? Change us?"

She scoffs. "You think you can flash a smile and stare at someone with those doe-like eyes and they'll magically reform, huh?"

Wonpil sputters, trying to gather a response. "You're be-"

"I'm what, Wonpil?! I'm 'better' than this?! I'm worth more than selling love to these lonely, sick, adulterous men? that. And if you’re here to say you’re coming to take us down then guess what? We can just find another place to run. That's how it's been. That's. how. it'll always be.”

She inhales slowly, the sudden outburst seeming to have taken a toll on her too. But it had been a long time coming. Wonpil stands there, still bemused as to what to do. His cover was blown, for God’s sake! But that wasn’t the worst part. He knew she wouldn’t sell him out but that wasn’t even the biggest of his concerns at the moment. He...

“Please,” he begins, voice soft and almost cracking, “I love-”

“No.” Angela immediately interrupts. “No, you don't. You just love being a hero.” 

She walks away, and Wonpil can't find it in him to do anything but watch her retreating figure. The rhythm of her heels against the floor bears a strange, sterile melancholy. But they come to an abrupt stop as she halts, turning back to regard Wonpil once more, her usually stoic expression giving way to one that's a mixture of hurt and badly concealed affection. 

"I told you, the first day you stepped foot into this place. I told you there was no place for you in this hell I call home. I'm sorry, Wonpil. But this is where your role as hero ends."

She turns around once more, lifts her head with a resolve strengthened, and delivers her parting words. 

"Sorry to break it to you Officer, but you can't save everyone."

With the clicking of her stilettos fading down the hallway, Wonpil releases a staggered breath. He didn't want this. Getting attached was never part of the plan. But with what it has come to, he no longer has a choice. 

He pulls his sleeve with the concealed microphone to his lips, following behind her - but he knew better than to try to stop her. "Squad, standby at the hot spot on district 7. Wait for my call. Targets are on site. Securing the targets is our priority. I've got audio. We move in once recorded evidence is substantial. Wait. For. My. Call. Does everyone copy?"

A muffled affirmative emanates from his earpiece and Wonpil stands by the door where the men soon to be apprehended guffaw widely. Laura walks out, once again exchanging places with her colleague and Wonpil slips a note to her, pressing a finger to his lips. She was one of the few others he knew he could trust, despite her clinginess. 

She blinks at the rushed penmanship for a second before looking up at Wonpil, eyes blown wide. He nods, and she rushes back into the room, immediately conveying the message to the hostesses in the room in discreet coded whispers. This wasn’t their first time walking the park. 

He spares one last glance as she reaches Angela, who catches his gaze just as the door slowly closes shut. He retreats to his position for standby, listening intently to his earpiece to ensure the audio evidence was still being recorded. The suspects’ voices dip into a whisper that Wonpil can barely make out, but he manages to catch the crucial line. This was it, he realises. The incriminating evidence the police needed to prove the briberies, corruption and dirty work the three suspects had been working together with. They had them in their pockets now. 

Wonpil watches from his spot as the staff slowly start to individually excuse themselves and hurriedly gather, stealthily exiting the premises and slipping past their manager. Angela is the last through the door, casting a look around and pausing for a few breaths, but then she steps out as well.

Wonpil pulls his mic to his lips after a couple minutes pass and the conversation on his earpiece nears a close. 

“Squad. Move in.”

He retrieves his pistol, the gentle click as he switches the safety off seeming to give him a sense of finality to what was happening. His men update that they are right outside the venue, and Wonpil looks to the already sealed back-door. He hesitates for a moment. 

But they have no business waiting any longer. She was gone. 

He gives the affirmative, his men immediately barging into the premises just as he himself kicks open the door to their targets, the squad falling in with him. The yelling and noise that follows passes in a blur even as he secures the cuffs around the wrists of one of the three culprits. The CEO of a conglomerate, the State Senator and the leader of the most notorious mafia they had been tailing for the past seven months.

But in that moment, even though all his work was finally paying off, Wonpil was feeling anything but triumphant.

He saved her, just not in the way he wanted to.