GO BACK AND READ THE DISCLAIMER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET. I cannot stress this enough. 
 

[Get It - PRISTIN V]
 

“Can you not strap a knife to your thigh? You’re going to stab yourself one day. Do you even know how to use a Bowie knife?”

Byul pointedly ignores Kim Junmyeon’s words, choosing to flip the mirror down and checking if her lipstick is within the lines. Her makeup is darker and sultrier than what she is used to, but it fits the scenario.
 

“Byul.”
 

“No.”
 

“No, what?”
 

“No, I don’t know how to use the stupid knife.”
 

Kim Junmyeon just sighs at the newest recruit to the case that is both his biggest nightmare and his key to success. He’s young, mainly because all of the people on the case have been moved to another one or fired because of the lack of results. And because of that, he has the most to prove.
 

An Byul knows those facts only too well, because the head detective on the case is Kim Junmyeon, and Kim Junmyeon likes results. Byul, on the other hand, prefers to do things her way. She’s even younger than him, and she was transferred into the department after her rather unconventional methods got her through a mountain of cases in a year.
 

And after almost a year of hiding in the shadows, Byul is ready to do fieldwork on her own. This event is her debut.
 

Byul rolls down the window slightly, letting the cool air circulate the car and muss her hair. It’s the last week of January, and the crime is going to be committed in February. How does she know?
 

The Kyrie only steals in February.
 

Byul is determined to solve the case at any cost. And when the department received the news that the Kyrie was going to show up at a very high-profile party at The Shilla, everyone pointed out that Byul hadn’t been seen on the case before.
 

Hence, she is currently dressed to the nines. The red fabric clings to her form in a rather innocent way at first glance, but then the high leg slit and open back prove otherwise. Her feet are hugged by strappy heels that accentuate the slit even further, and when paired with tasteful but dark makeup, she feels ready.
 

“Give me the knife.”
 

Byul sighs and unstraps the holster that wraps snuggly around her thigh before dropping it in her superior’s open hand. He tosses it to the back of the car without a spare glance and returns his hand to the steering wheel.
 

“Jongin is on standby if anything goes wrong.”
 

“Nothing is going to go wrong.” Byul settles back into the heated leather seats, relishing the contrast of the cool wind slipping through the cracked window.
 

The senior detective shoots her a wary glance. “This is the Kyrie. Something always goes wrong.”
 

The black car turns toward the large hotel, and she watches the luxurious building as the lights cast a pale glow over her face, illuminating the car just enough so she can see Junmyeon’s frown reflected in the window. The faint splashing of the fountain they pass by interrupt the comfortable silence between them.
 

Cars form a short queue in the valet but Junmyeon pulls up to the entrance. “You ready?”
 

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me I look pretty?”
 

Junmyeon’s nose twitches in annoyance. “Get out of my car.”
 

She flashes him a mischievous grin before her fingers tug at the handle, and she breathes deeply as she steps on to the elegant pathway that is framed by lights and traces the way to the glass entrance. She’s almost dumbfounded, because the pictures didn’t do the hotel justice.
 

Byul shuts the car door behind her and her heels make a satisfying sound as she makes her way to the doorman, who simply glances at her face and opens the door with a deep bow. If anything, the lobby is even more beautiful with the sparkling light above her and the clean lines of the furnishings. Even the bar looks artistic.
 

Luxe. It is luxe. There’s no other way to explain it.
 

And so are the people in the lobby heading to the ballroom. The diamonds practically drip from ears and necks, and the silk of cummerbunds and dresses make a faint swishing sound as they walk. Byul feels inadequate in comparison, despite her delicate jewelry.
 

Frankly, she probably looks the part, but she no longer feels the part.
 

Instead of staring in awe at the chandeliers dotting the ceiling of the ballroom, she keeps her head high and scans the crowd. She hears the woman behind her scoff, “The décor last year was much better.”
 

The glass and lights couldn’t be topped in Byul’s opinion, but the woman didn’t ask, nor did Byul think she cared about her opinion. So instead she turns to her with an arched eyebrow. “Do you think so?”
 

“Of course! The vines last year were exquisite, and this modern design is trash in comparison—”
 

“That’s a shame.” Byul cuts her off almost immediately. “I thought I did a decent job with the design. What did you say your name was, again?”
 

A shade of red passes over the woman’s cheeks, and Byul’s level of amusement rises at the dirty trick. The middle-aged woman with the peacock feathers on her dress stammers her name and Byul nods almost solemnly.
 

“Don’t worry, I won’t mention your slip up to any of the hosts. Maybe.”
 

The woman proceeds to turn an ugly shade of puce and Byul smiles, excusing herself to grab a flute of champagne that bubbles on her tongue sweetly with each sip. Much better than the soju she is used to.
 

Notes of upbeat jazz make the ballroom seem much warmer than it really is. Most of the people at the event probably resent each other anyway and are forced together simply because of their socioeconomic status. Byul is surprised she’s even present, because she doesn’t want to think about the number of connections and ties that had to be used so she could even stand in the ballroom and breathe in the presence of these people.
 

Not that she’s breathing much anyway. Despite her dismissal of Junmyeon’s worry about tonight, she feels the pressure.
 

The Kyrie’s presence could mean one of two things. Either he is being funded by someone at the event, or he is considered part of the socioeconomic elite. Both options seem equally likely, but one is more problematic than the other. If he’s being funded, then cutting off the Kyrie’s money source would be the first step. If he’s part of the socioeconomic elite, then he funds himself.
 

Even though Byul has a plan for the evening, she finds herself reluctant to start, mainly because of the fact that she feels the pressure. Trying to find a man in a room full of strangers is difficult, but the task is infinitely more so because she knows that she has to prove herself. After all, she is the newest person on the case, and to make matters worse, she doesn’t know a single person in the room other than the woman she just insulted. The masses talk amongst one another and she chews on the inside of her cheek. It’s not like she could barge into a conversation, nor could she strike one up easily unless she’s at the bar, as the majority of people there seem to be loners. But being tethered to the bar doesn’t feel like a viable option either.
 

While she’s stuck in her thoughts, she fails to move out of the way of someone trying to brush by her, and the male knocks her clutch out of her hand with his hip. She’s about to bend down to grab it, but he’s faster and has the soft fabric of the bag between his fingers before she can protest.
 

He holds out the bag before a mischievous sm