Chapter Two: Pay Your Dues

When Taeyeon woke up that morning, she did not immediately get up like she normally would. Instead, she lay there, eyes open and unblinking, staring at the mottled grey ceiling that without fail, greeted her like an old friend all these years.

The room she stayed in had no windows, nor any other opening where natural light could slip in and it was illuminated by externally controlled lights for a set amount of time each day. They served as an artificial sun of sorts. If not for the analogue clock that hung upon a wall directly opposite her cell, she would not be able to tell what time it was, let alone what day or season it was outside—hanging her life in a timeless limbo.

It was not hard for her to sense that something about today was inherently different to all the days—months and years, even—that came before it. She had, and always had been sensitive to the small intricacies of life. It was one of her defining characteristics, after all. Something had disrupted her clockwork-like routine. An almost imperceptible shift. Taeyeon lay awake in bed waiting for the change she knew had come.

By midday, she had picked up on the strangely attentive energy around the place. It did not belong, Taeyeon thought, watching as previously apathetic individuals who would have barely spared her a glance, watched her with sharp hawklike eyes. She saw this underlying edge of nervous energy, felt the tension in the way the prison building itself seemed to be wound-up tight like a coil. Whatever was coming, had renewed their vigilance.

About half-past two, a group of orderlies came in to handcuff her. Their tasers were held out in precaution. Taeyeon paid them no mind, uninterested in spending her energy on meaningless endeavours. She was never one for that type of violence—no finesse and all too primal. 

Next came a table and a chair. Taeyeon felt curiosity take a hold of her like it hadn’t done so for a long time and too, was taken by the shot of energy as it trickled through her veins.

Eventually, she heard her visitors long before she saw them. The screech of the metal gates, the hurried footsteps and the low voices. Her lips pulled back and split into a wide grin, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. It had been a while since anyone visited her. She fondly wondered if it was Yunho—no, the steps were too light to be his—or maybe his partner, Yuri.

The footsteps stopped. Another bout of low whispers exchanged. Then a single pair of footsteps continued to forth, approaching.

Brave. Taeyeon thought to herself. Must be a familiar face then.

It was not.

A tall figure, slim and lithe, stood before her. Long brown hair pulled back into a low pony tail. The individual was blessed with a collection of beautiful features: a high nose bridge, bright eyes, defined jawline. Despite this, her neutral expression constantly gave her an appearance that she was serious and unapproachable—perhaps a blessing in disguise; an ideal face for this line of work. She was fortunate Taeyeon thought, for she had that mask to hide all of her fear behind.

Taeyeon made no gesture to get up off her bed. She wanted the other to make the first move, curious to see how this newbie would handle her.

The woman stepped closer to her cell.

“Kim Taeyeon, right? I'm with the state police force, may I come in?”

Taeyeon kept her expression neutral and acquiesced to the woman’s request though she felt surprise jolt through her. Stay behind the safety of the bars was the protocol. There must be a thin line between bravery and idiocy, and I can’t quite decide which one I’m witnessing now.

A prison guard soon came to attend to the request. More out of protocol, than for safety. There wasn’t much their could do to stop Taeyeon should she decide to do anything.

The door swung shut with a click—securely locked—behind the detective as she entered. Taeyeon watched as the woman situated herself on one side of the desk. She looked from Taeyeon to the empty seat, extending an open invitation to join her.

A clock ticked somewhere in the background. Like everything else in this place, it was a harsh, obnoxious and mechanical sound that chipped away at the empty silence of the room. Taeyeon counted one hundred and twenty ticks.

She stood up and moved off her bed, sitting down across from the newcomer, proceeding to drum her fingers against the tabletop. The surface was cool to the touch.

“It’s rude to stare, Detective.” Taeyeon said as she pulled her gaze from the clock on the wall and met that of the woman observing her. Taeyeon saw a ripple of alarm cross through the woman's brown eyes.

“And give Yunho my greetings, young one.”

“I’m sure he will be happy to hear from you.” Came the polite response. A red flag. Taeyeon narrowed her eyes. There was a faint clinking sound and a cool sharp glint as the fluorescent light caught the metal ensnared around her wrist—a toothy grin of silver. twisted into a matching smile, contempt curled into her lips. A distinct sliver of something resembling irritation crawled under Taeyeon’s skin.

“You don’t know anything about me, do you?” Taeyeon said arrogantly. She leaned back in her seat, raised her cuffed hands and rested them behind her head. She glanced down at the visitors pass clipped onto the pocket of the beige coloured coat.

The detective, Krystal, Taeyeon corrected mentally, sat back, lips pulled tight.

“They said the less I knew, the better.” Krystal said. She was lying. Taeyeon saw it in her face, in her shoulders and in everything the younger one did. Like a jagged black streak that disfigured the perfection she carefully presented, perhaps. “They told me I don’t need to know.”

Taeyeon scoffed at this and flexed the fingers of her right hand, opened and closed them to form a fist again and again. There was impatience. She itched for something more.

“Better for you or for me?”

“Maybe for the both of us—a clean slate.”

A pensive look settled upon Taeyeon’s face. Someone had once uttered those very same words to her, promising a better outcome for the both of them, just empty words in Taeyeon's humble opinion—look where she was now.

Krystal had however, sounded genuine.

In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that Jung Yunho was better than she had anticipated—sending his young protégé here. It was—she was an interesting one. And foolish.

Taeyeon smiled to herself, self-satisfyingly. Maybe this could be fun. She would indulge them just this once.

“How long have you been in here?” Krystal questioned. Taeyeon saw that she was trying, with difficulty, to direct the conversation in a more productive direction, the useless meandering of their exchanged words having revealed nothing of importance.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Do you ever want to get out?”

“No, not really.”

Taeyeon watched the frustration bloom in Krystal’s face. A twitch of an eyelid, a crease of a brow, a crack in the mask. The more she watched Krystal, the more she picked up on her quirks, the more she innately understood her—perhaps in ways that no one else could ever or would ever.

Taeyeon hadn’t done this for a while, granted she hadn’t been allowed many visitors, but in doing it again now felt like slipping into a second skin. It came naturally once again; the way water melded to a container and took on whatever shape or form that was required of it.

She looked at Krystal through Krystal’s own eyes. Saw her as her best and as her worst. Saw her for who she was. Taeyeon tilted her head to the side and smiled to herself slightly.

Amused, she watched Krystal try to analyse her and not realise that she was analysing herself. If Krystal had read her file, she wouldn’t waste her time trying to psychoanalyse her. There was no point in playing mind games; it was a futile, like trying to catch the ever-elusive nature of her own shadow.

"Tell me something interesting, Krystal." Taeyeon said, eager to move the show on.

"Like what?"

"What did you think of Hyoyeon?"

Krystal thought for a quiet moment.

"I think Hyoyeon should stop smoking."

Taeyeon quirked an eyebrow.

"She did a while back. Too bad relapses are hard to avoid when your brain is wired to crave something. Imagine having to constantly fight that the voice inside your head."

"Are you talking about yourself, Taeyeon? Is this from experience?"

"Ahh, you have the wrong idea, young one." Taeyeon shook her head, letting a fond lilt colour her tone. Taeyeon was glad that she found Krystal interesting, it evoked a wild excitement inside her. It made her think of the hunt, the battle of wits and the thrill of the chase; a titillating freedom of the spiritual kind.

"I'm merely just engaging you in polite conversation. I want to hear your opinions."

“What do you really want?” Krystal asked abruptly, all business-like and stern.

“What do you really want?” Taeyeon replied and reflected more than just Krystal’s question back. She watched as Krystal jolted in surprise at the sudden turn of events. “You can tell me. Talk to me like I’m your sister—you do have a sister, don’t you?”

Taeyeon could practically hear the honorific 'unnie' tacked onto the end of Krystal's sentences.

“W-what?”

"It's obvious from the way you approach your rapport building with me. You must have an older sister too.” Taeyeon explained offhandedly. She pressed on, curious as to what Jung Yunho's mouthpiece had been tasked to do. And of course, what Jung Yunho himself wanted from Taeyeon.

“I know that you—no, Yunho—wants something from me. So, let’s do a little trade.”

“What is it that you want, Taeyeon?” Krystal now spoke with teeth gritted and hesitation laced into her words.

Taeyeon made a show of thinking. She brought her hand to her chin and rubbed almost dramatically. It was fun to watch the anxiety as it dripped off Krystal’s face. She drew out the moment for another beat longer.

“Firstly, I want a lawyer—a good one too. If I’m going to do this, I want it to be done properly.”

“Okay…” Krystal shakily agreed. Her tensed shoulders relaxed just slightly as she nodded. In Taeyeon's opinion, the action was more out of self-reassurance than anything.

“Secondly, I want to know more about this sister of yours.” <