DAY 3

                “God, what is that?”

                “Turn it off!”

                “Eunjiiii!”

                You threw your hand over the side of the bed, blindly groping for the table where your phone should be… there it was. You tapped the screen until the blaring noise stopped, and rolled over to bury your face deeper in the pillow. Someone kicked your feet, Hei-Ran was never a peaceful sleeper.

                “Eunji, go to work.” She mumbled. “Your next alarm will go off.”

                You groaned, knowing they were right. You were one of those types of people who had 7 alarms all within a minute of one another. From Yun-Hee’s soft snores, you knew she’d fallen back to sleep, and you wished you could do the same, alas, duty calls. Slowly, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, cradling your pounding head. You should have known better than to let them take you out on a worknight, especially when you’d planned for such an important day. Oh well, what was don’t was done. At least they didn’t let you go home with anyone.

                You dragged yourself to the bathroom and splashed your face with cold water, bracing yourself on the counter as you looked at your messy hair and under-eye circles in the mirror. You probably reeked of alcohol. You didn’t have much time before you wanted to leave for work, but you stumbled into the shower and took full advantage of Yun-Hee’s expensive shampoo and conditioner. The water was hot and scalding, burning the alcohol from your pores. It was the best kind of shower, the only people who liked cold showers were those Instagram fitness freaks who drink green smoothies and posed for pictures with thong bikini’s halfway up their asses. You turned the water off, hurrying to wrap yourself in a fluffy towel as the cold nipped at your skin.

                You had your own toothbrush and deodorant and everything here since you stayed over so often, and a quick raid of Hei-Ran’s closely later, you were dressed to go to work. Lastly, you stopped by the fridge and found that a drunken Yun-Hee had not strayed from tradition. The note was written in her childish drunken writing;

Happy Hangover you Gorgeous ladies! XxXx

                You owed every hungover morning to Yun-Hee’s drunken alter ego. The note sat atop three prepared smoothies, three salad-filled Tupperware’s, and three yoghurts. You grabbed one of the meal sets and began the commute to work. You liked to get there early, public transit was easier before the morning rush started, and you liked to settle in to your desk before everyone else got there, check your emails, make a list of what needed doing, just getting everything sorted before the day officially started.

                You bought a quick coffee from the cart on the first floor before heading up to your office, locking the door and resting your head on your desk. The wood was cool, and felt nice on your burning forehead.

                You should have bought a water instead.

                At least you had the smoothie. Yun-Hee was an angel.

                Only when your eyes started drooping did you force yourself to sit back up, opening your laptop to check the long list of emails that had compiled over the evening.  Two hours later, you’d done it all and were pouring over the files that you’d been sent by the higher ups. They listed all known history or investigations of anyone involved in the case, and you were looking for any hint of Chen’s past, anything that might give you leverage over him in your interrogation.

                You were surprised that Yun-Hee and Hei-Ran hadn’t come by yet, complaining about their hangovers, but you knew they’d be by eventually, so you’d left your door unlocked.

                Eventually, the knock came.

                “Come in.” You grinned, sitting up in your chair to greet them, but you stood when you saw who was behind the door.

                “Sora?” The girl who’d glared at you, the girl who was upset she had Xiumin and not Baekhyun, why was she here?

                “Eunji, was it?” She said, stepping into your office and shutting the door behind her. You skin prickled. “Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by, just wanted to check how you were doing.” She sidestepped you and sat in your chair, much in the same way that Yun-Hee did but so very different. She looked around, “You’ve got a nice office, small, grubby, if you like that kind of thing. Talked to your subject yet?”

                You grit your teeth, “No, I haven’t.”

                “Of course not.” She said, “Right, yes, I heard you had trouble getting security clearance? Must be trouble being so new.”

                You folded your arms, “It was just a clerical error. How’s Xiumin?”

                She shrugged, “Oh it’s fine, I’ve broken his type before. You haven’t though, which is my concern.”           

                “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

                “Are you sure though? You could come by and see how it’s done if you’d like?”

                Your eye twitched, and you were really debating whether to tip her off your chair. “That won’t be necessary.

                She smirked, “I’ve looked at your file, there is no justification for you to be on this case.”

                “And yet, I am.”

                “And yet, you are.” She said slowly, tilting her head. “We’ll see how long you stay after Mr. Im gets tired of that flat .” She stood up, rising gracefully in a way that made you hate her even more. “You can only get so far by ing the boss, one day you’re going to fall on your face and I’m going to be there to see it all.” She pat your cheek as she opened the door, “It’s been a great chat, we should do it again sometime.”   

                You watched her walk away, eyes aghast, mouth open, before slamming the door and glaring at it as if you could burn it down. Who was she to come to your office and accuse you?

You knew there’d been gossip about you getting the position. Mr. Im had overlooked many more qualified people in selecting you, you hadn’t even submitted your name for candidacy. Or, well, whoever had chosen you, since Mr. Im barely seemed to know your name at the first meeting. As soon as word had spread eyes had begun following you, eyes of suspicion and disbelief, of jealousy and judgement. You must have swayed him somehow, he was choosing with his eyes and not his mind. You yourself had wondered what the motive could be, why you were chosen. You were a good agent, your work got results, but this… this was a big case.

After a few days people had gotten over it, gossip replaced gossip and the world of the office continued to turn. You’d just grit your teeth and gotten over it, knowing that you would prove them all wrong in the end, prove that you deserved to be on the team as much as anyone else.

                You grabbed Chen’s file from your desk and stalked out of your office, climbing to the sixth floor and to the observation chamber. Chen was in almost the exact same position as last time, lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling, a faster rhythm in his mind for his foot to bounce along to.

                You took the recorder from your bag and placed it on your desk, standing it up and beginning to record. You placed the file on the desk beside it, and took a deep breath before opening the door to his room.

                You paused in the doorway, half in and half out, ready to leap backwards and slam the door shut if necessary but he did nothing. You shut the door behind you. Still nothing. He did nothing to acknowledge your existence.

                Steeling your resolve, your heels clicked sharply on the floor as you sat at the desk.

                “Would you please join me at your table?” Your voice didn’t echo in here as you thought it would have, instead it sounded flat and dull, quiet as it was absorbed by the walls.

                You watched him with analytical eyes, and saw the corner of his lips twitch up. He turned his head to look at you, eyeing you like some predatory animal. He his lips, “well aren’t I lucky?”

                You refused to be creeped out by the gesture, clasping your hands on the desktop and patiently waited. Eventually, slowly, he got up and took the two steps to the desk, plonking his weight down in the chair opposite you. He sat casually, effortlessly, belittling you. His eyes were bright and curious as they stared you down.

                You cleared your throat, “my name is Agent Kang, I am your primary interviewer for the time being.”

                A lewd grin pulled at his lips, “A woman who takes charge, I like you already.” His voice was rough, unused, but had the echo of being something bigger. It was the type of voice you’d expect to hear on a lazy morning with sun streaming through the windows, a voice that threw the situation out of context. His words reminded you of Yoona’s ‘script’, and you had to admit that in the midst of Sora’s ‘visit’, you’d forgotten all about it. You could see now what she meant, Chen was obviously using the juvenile tactic of belittling you as a woman, using your gender as an excuse to not take you seriously. You could understand why Yoona would want to establish hierarchy and dominance from the beginning, but it didn’t change the fact that her methods revolved around using physical force on prisoners, and that was something you just weren’t comfortable with. Not only was it violating every ethical rule there was, nothing said under duress should ever be taken as truth. You preferred to be honest, but firm, in hopes that they recognised that and reciprocated. Interrogations were about building trust with the other person, not beating them into submission.

                “Everything you say to me is being recorded for official transcripts, although no one else is listening as you speak to me. Please try to be as open and honest as you are able.”

                He cocked his head, predatory animal trading places with a curious bird, “No one’s listening? Isn’t that dangerous?” He leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “Aren’t you scared?”

                “You didn’t pull back, “do I have a reason to be?”

                “No one will hear you screaming, for starters. They’ll just have a recording of it to send to your family, so your dear parents can play it over and over, until they die as well.”

                You heart stuttered, what was this guy?

                Moments later his head fell back as he laughed, a loud booming sound quickly muffled by the walls, making you feel like the two of you really were isolated. That this room was just suspended in space somewhere, you were trapped with him.

                You tried again, thinking back to the information sheets you had been given about him, and all those empty spaces. “Please state your name.”

                “Why?” He folded his arms.

                “I’ve told you mine,” You said, “polite conversation dictates you do the same.”

                He cocked a brow, “Chen.”

                Well at least he’s saying something. “Is that the name you were born with?”

                “No.” He admitted, “But I reason that there’s more than ‘Agent Kang’ going on with you as well.”

                “Where were you born?”

                “Paris.”

                “And-”

                “Or was it Canada? Actually, I think it was jolly old England?”

                Of course, he wasn’t going to give you anything that easily. “Where is your place of residence?”

                “My what?”

                “Where do you live?”

                “Lots of places.”

                “Where do you sleep?”

                “Why? Interested in joining?”

                “You were found in downtown Seoul, is it safe to assume you are in that area often?”

                Chen cackled, “I’d daresay you’re leading the witness.”

                “Are you saying you’re a witness?” You smirked as you saw the twitch in his brows, “Do you have something you’d like to report?”

                “Actually,” He began, “there is.” He leaned back in, closer this time, you could almost count the eyelashes around his eyes, “there’s a pretty girl keeping me locked up so she can do naughty things to me. Think you can do something about that?”

                You frowned, “I would appreciate if you refrain from objectifying me during our sessions.”

                “So I can objectify you when you’re not here? It bother you if I think about you at night when I’m-”

                You stood, turning on your heel and shutting the door loudly behind you. Immediately, you leaned back against it, feeling your heart beating like a hummingbirds, the nerves in your fingers tingling. Only now, when you were out of the lion’s den, did you realise how much you were affected, about the inkling of fear in the back of your mind.

                It’s natural to be afraid of sitting in a room with someone like him. You reasoned, calming your breathing. If you’re afraid it’s only because you’re doing something brave.

What you are afraid to do is an indication of what you must do next.

Fear is not real, it is a product of created thoughts. Danger is real, fear is a choice.

Fear is a reaction, courage is a decision.

You told yourself every quote about fear you could think of, running them over and over in your mind, letting the repetition calm you, the predictability soothe you, and the words bolster you.  

                You turned around, your heart sinking to your gut as your eyes met his. There’s no way he can see me, this is one way glass. It’s just a coincidence. He’s just trying to scare me. So you stayed, watching, until finally he looked away.

                You didn’t know who had won today, but you had a feeling it wasn’t you. Not if you’d betrayed to him how you were feeling. You had to be more prepared for tomorrow, there was no other choice.

                You refused to back down to fear.