"You seem startled," Joohyun deadpanned, beginning to walk forward.

"Bae Joohyun," Wendy muttered, still rooted to her position. "It’s not possible."

The woman shrugged, increasing the distance between the two of them. "You aren't the only one with connections, Miss Son Seungwan,” she said, brushing a bit of snow off her shoulder carelessly. "Are you going to stand there all day? You'll catch a cold. We wouldn’t want that."

Wendy huffed incredulously, forcing her legs to move toward the apparently-alive woman. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "How, then?" she asked. "Who do you work for? Will you be trying to kill me?"

Joohyun hummed, making a sharp right turn. Wendy followed. "I'm not trying to kill you, Miss Son. If I were, you would be dead," she said, and Wendy was sure she wasn't imagining the teasing undertone in her voice. "Who do I work for?" she echoed. "Myself, I suppose. You killed me, remember?"

"Clearly not," Wendy interjected.

"And how? Well, Miss Son, remind me--whose funeral are we currently attending?"

Well, the woman wasn’t wrong. "It's Wendy," she said, "and that is certainly not what I asked and you know it.”

Joohyun shrugged. “Isn’t it what you asked, Seungwan?” She hummed again, stopping in her tracks. Wendy nearly ran into the woman, coming to a halt a fraction of an inch behind her.

“This is my car,” she said, ending the statement in a deadpan but intent full of question.

“It is,” Joohyun replied. The woman fished a key out of her pristine coat pocket, tossing it to Wendy. “You’re driving.”

Furrowing her brow, Wendy pulled her own key out of her pocket. “I have my own key, you know. Where did you even get this?”

“Get in the car. I’ll tell you where to go.”

Wendy sighed, pocketing her new extra key. It didn’t seem like she would be getting much in the way of answers yet, and she had to admit--she was curious. Wendy was not a woman that liked to be bested, and yet here Bae Joohyun was, in the flesh. With some exaggerated attitude, Wendy slid into the driver’s seat. The other woman was already seated and taking off her gloves.

As Wendy busied herself with the ignition, the woman spoke. “Hopped-up 1953 Chrysler Imperial? You don’t seem much like a Chrysler kind of girl.”

Wendy quirked a brow, edging out of the cemetery parking lot. “And I didn’t take you for a cars kind of girl. Either way, you need to be directing me where to go, or I’m driving straight home and leaving you out here in the countryside.” She paused. “And this hopped-up 1953 Chrysler has got air conditioning.”

Joohyun hummed again. She twisted the rear-view mirror towards herself, fixing her perfectly curled hair. Wendy rolled her eyes.

“Left,” Joohyun said abruptly.

Wendy scowled, swerving to make the turn. Joohyun smoothly braced herself. “A little more warning would be appreciated, thanks. The snow isn’t exactly the kindest environment, and that back there might be my real funeral real quick.”

“You’re welcome,” Joohyun replied, but said, “take a right in about ten blocks. Have you had lunch?”

Wendy threw a disbelieving glance at the woman in her passenger seat. “Have I had lunch? I just attended my own funeral, haven’t much been in the mood for eating.”

“Eyes on the road, please.”

“Jesus,” Wendy muttered, facing forward again. She took a right turn. For a few minutes, the car was blessedly silent.

Then Joohyun sighed, as if Wendy were the one being exasperating. “You’ll get your answers when we arrive, Seungwan.

“And where, exactly, will we be arriving at?” Wendy asked.

“Here,” Joohyun said after a few moments. She unbuckled her seatbelt and moved to get out. Wendy stared at the ceiling of her car. Was the woman able to give a straightforward answer to anything?

Wendy pushed open the door and grumbled quietly. She seemed to be at a quaint little house, unassuming--almost picturesque, if Wendy wasn't still wondering if this was where she was about to be interrogated. Or die.

Perhaps both.

And yet you still follow her, Wendy thought.

“Are you coming, Seungwan?”

She sighed. “I’m coming.”

Joohyun busied herself with unlocking the front door. “Here’s the thing, Seungwan,” she began. “You,” she said, tossing open the door, “must vow to never speak of any of the following to another soul unless explicitly given permission to.”

Wendy blinked. “What?”

“I actually have a physical written contract, if that makes you feel more comfortable.” She led the way into the small house that smelled distantly of tea and linens. She gestured for Wendy to sit at the small dining table, turning away to apparently put a kettle on the stove. “I was going to give that to you at the end, but we could deal with it first if you would rather.”

Wendy sat. “I…”

“You’re right. You can read over it at the end. Are you ready for answers, Seungwan?”

“It’s Wendy--but… yes. Please.”

Joohyun turned to face her, leaning gently against the countertop. “As you know, I was an intelligence operative for a good handful of years--foreign affairs, mostly. I was obviously undercover for most of my years there--it may be 1953, but you know as well as I that women are not taken seriously in the field.”

Wendy snorted, nodding a silent amen.

“You know all this, of course--so why do I tell you? One day, you received a manila envelope in the mail with my photo, my description and rather specific instruction, and a promise for enough cash to last you the next decade.

“So, you did your job. You did your own research, ensured this wasn't some enemy ploy to ruin your career. You went out, slipped a dose of saxitoxin into my glass, and within the hour, you watched me die.”

“I checked for breathing,” Wendy whispered. “I checked your pulse. Your heat signature was diminishing. You were gone.”

Joohyun shook her head. “You seem to be familiar with your Shakespeare. ‘Here’s drink--’”

“‘I drink to thee.’ A staged death--you swapped out my supply. Oh my god,” Wendy muttered. How the woman got into her materials was just another mystery to add to the list. Her mind spun with other targets who may still be alive and going about their daily lives. “It’s an American experimental chemical, and you showed all the symptoms. How did you know I would… how many others…”

“Relax, Seungwan. As far as I know, I am your first failed target--and as far as I know, there are less people on this earth that know this fact than fingers on my right hand,” Joohyun explained, turning to attend to the now-whistling kettle. “Of course, I sent you that manila envelope myself. I’m sure you understand what I mean when I say I may have uncovered some secrets not meant for my eyes.”

‘Of course,’ she says, as if I should have already come to that conclusion. “Right. So why not do it yourself?” Wendy asked, trying to understand. “Save a yourself the buck.”

“I wanted to make sure it was done right. What I found that day was--not just indicative of internal corruption--but apparently, a catalyst.” she explained.

Wendy tapped her chin, filling in when Joohyun hesitated. “It got personal.”

A cup of tea was placed in front of her, and Joohyun joined her at the table. “It did.”

Joohyun did not elaborate, and Wendy did not ask.

She turned her gaze to the steaming cup in front of her, fiddling with the handle. She still did not understand, but her sense of apprehension was fading. What had Joohyun found to prompt not only a threat from her employers, but a full-fledged fake death? What more did she want from Wendy?

“It’s not poisoned, you know. I didn’t bring you here and tell you my life story just to kill you immediately,” Joohyun said, laughing to herself.

“Why am I here?” Wendy asked, tired of beating around the bush. “I did my job and you paid me. It’s been three years. If it wasn’t clear from you attending my funeral, I’m suspending that line of work.”

Joohyun nodded. “I understand. And I understand if you have no interest in working with me at this time. However, I will be honest with you--I need someone of your caliber. This is a personal matter for me, but for you, this is just another job, with perhaps a more significant moral impact than any prior one.” She sipped her tea and rested her elbows on the table. “We work only with the best, of course.”

“We?” Wendy repeated, eyes flicking to the dark doorway. She supposed it was reassuring that if Joohyun were still planning to kill her, it would be at least be two-on-one and thus far less humiliating if she had lost to Joohyun alone. As if on cue (personally, Wendy was starting to suspect this had, in fact, been rehearsed for full dramatic effect), another woman emerged from the shadows. Clad in a trendy striped shirt tucked into high-waisted green shorts, the woman pushed herself off the wall she was leaning on to give a mock-bow.

“The name’s Park Sooyoung, but call me Joy.”

Wendy stood and stepped forward to shake the woman’s hand, fighting down a smirk at the strong grip. The woman likes to prove her power. “What's that, a codename? You got an alias too?” she muttered, looking over at Joohyun.

She smiled, putting down her cup to toss a business card to Wendy.

Definitely rehearsed, Wendy noted.

Catching it, she read it aloud. “Velvet Detective Agency.” She flipped the card, scanning the words. For a job with no promised pay, Wendy had to admit she was infinitely curious. There was something else she was not being told, and Wendy had a sneaking suspicion that she would regret not siding with Joohyun--at least, for now. “Irene, Private Investigator.” Her eyes flicked back to her potential new employer.

Irene stood, chair screeching as it slid back. “So, what do you say?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

Bae Joohyun--Irene--gave a pleasant laugh. “Welcome to the team, Wendy.”

////////

A/N: I'm new to the period-piece genre as a whole, so let me know what y'all think! This is also my first Red Velvet multi-chapter fic, and overall, a new venture.