IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE DISCLAIMER, READ IT HERE. I CANNOT EMPHASIZE ENOUGH HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS. 

Disclaimer:
There is discussion of ion in this chapter. There is no violence, , or anything of the sort, but it's very serious. There is also a lot of references to comfort women. If you don't know much about the subject, check out this link.
 

[Tomorrow - BTS]
 

Byul moans. She can’t help it.
 

The view of the pizza gave her more pleasure than Sehun ever had. Granted, that’s not exactly a high bar. She just loves pizza that much.

Mina lifts a slice on to her own plate, letting the cheese shine under the lights of her living room. The entire apartment smells like fast food and the Chihuahua yipping in the background paired with the blankets tucked around their shoulders gives off a cozy vibe. She needed this. After several hectic days, pizza and Mina already make her feel a bit more like her normal, rash self.

Byul blows at her plate, just in case, before biting into the slice and getting satisfaction from the cheese pull. “So good.”

Mina chews and then swallows. “Scale of one to ten, how confident are you that the team can solve the case?”

“Ten. Maybe even eleven.” Byul wipes her fingers off with a napkin before sprinkling pepper over the top. “Why?”

“I can’t stop thinking about work,” Mina grumbles as her dog tucks itself under her thigh, tiny tail wagging as she tosses it a piece of cheese. “Chen is irritating me. I was going to interrogate him today, but we got put off track because we don’t have that much evidence without forensics coming back. Seulgi said something about some stuff matching other cases and we don’t have time for that—”

“The more we talk about work,” Byul gently interrupts, smiling, “the more we’re going to worry. We don’t know what object is being stolen yet, and we have some time off.”

“We have some time off,” Mina mimics her with a strained voice, over exaggerating her tone. “Says the person who looks like she hasn’t slept in days.”

How could she sleep? She’s worried that they can’t prove Chen to be an informant, because all she has is a baseless claim by another criminal. She’s worried that the Kyrie will get away with another crime. She’s worried because she feels repulsed by her own bed. Byul doesn’t know what to say, so she just takes a large mouthful of pizza. It’s an obvious enough response to Mina, who rolls her eyes. The dog bounces over to Byul, headbutting her knee. With her spare hand, she scratches it behind the ears. “Your dog bit me the first time I saw her. She’s so friendly now.”

“Gish has great taste,” Mina sniffs.

Byul rolls her eyes at Mina’s insistence and stuffs the rest of the crust in her face. She may have a rough work life, and her personal life is now non-existent, but at least food and Mina’s sense of humor will never leave her. Unless they don’t catch the Kyrie, because then the latter will leave because she’d probably be transferred to a small station on the outskirts of Seoul.

“Is Irene okay? I don’t see a lot of her because of us being split up on the case, and she’s always organizing.”

“How does she do it?” Mina shakes her head. “Without her, I would forget half the evidence and facts of the case from the previous years.”

“Forget?” Byul laughs, putting another slice on her plate. “How can you forget the fact that he cross-dressed as a female last year because we had identified the fact that he’s male?”

“See! I would forget the color of his wig, and Irene would have to tell me it was black with brown highlights.” Mina grumbles, tearing into her slice and talking from the side of . “The Kyrie’s case makes me more stressed than any other case in the past.”

“Including Onew?”

“Especially including Onew.” She tips her head back, looking at the ceiling and chewing. “Rookies have less of a responsibility. No matter what happens, you won’t be docked too badly, even if Junmyeon specifically hired you for the case.”

“What would happen to you?” Byul loses her appetite at the thought. She sips water from a cup, mulling over the implication. She’s the newest member to the team, but she doesn’t want to see any members demoted.

“Die.”

Byul chokes on her water, coughing and spitting, making Mina’s dog yelp and whimper. It takes her about thirty seconds of gasping to get her lungs under control, and she ends up laughing.

“You laughed!” Mina grins, reaching for the untouched calzone, cutting it, and putting half of it on Byul’s plate.

“You can’t say stuff like that!”

“Are you going to stay over tonight?”

“Yeah, might as well.”
 

What kind of high profile criminal has a dog? Luhan had warned him several times that his dog would somehow lead to more scrutiny and lead to him being a suspect in his own case, but Vivi has a dog walker and is part of the image of Oh Sehun, not the Kyrie.

Sehun knows how to keep them separate. Besides, Luhan has done stupider things.

Vivi curls up on his lap as he formulates the last of his plans. There are always several ways that the theft can go, and he has to plan accordingly. Stealing is the easy part, but planning in a way so as to not leave behind any DNA or physical or evidence is the difficult part. Sure, he’s left behind enough red herrings for the police before, but this time An Byul knows it’s him, even though she doesn’t have evidence to indict him. He would be stupid to completely disregard the amount of cases that she solved in her previous position, but he really doubts that she or any other officer in all of Korea could pin it on him.

He might as well walk away now, but one more time for old times’ sake, he supposes. The underground would pay a pretty penny for his theft, but it’s much more satisfying to hold the objects in his hands and marvel at the weight of the seemingly useless items that the police and the government seemed to care about so much.

Sehun uses one hand to massage Vivi’s side. The small, plush armchair they’re sitting in feels like his throne. He dreamed up stealing up the first item in the same seat, and it was for fairly stupid reasons too. After Dad died, Mom had flown all over the world indulging herself as a supposedly broken-hearted widow. Or something like that.

The first crime was a complete accident. He had stolen an important artifact that had been returned to Korea from Japan, and it was a letter with the first government acknowledgement of comfort women between the two countries.

It turns out that the real thief was someone else. They had stolen the original copy of the letter along with other artifacts and hid them in the gift shop with the fakes. All Sehun had done was try to buy a fake version, just because it interested him and his father taught him about comfort women and it had meaning to him, but by complete coincidence, he bought the real version.

The theft was uncovered a few days later and projected all over the media, but the case was ruled inconclusive and there was a lack of evidence because the break-in was done by another person. He was innocent and just bought the real version, but no one was actually able to track him from the camera footage. As far as the government was concerned, Sehun was in the clear.

How did he know it was real? The paper. It wasn’t produced to look old, but it was actually old. And it was in a plastic wrapping to protect from fingerprints. The pictures that were spread in the media showed the difference between the real thing and the gift shop replicas, and much to his shock, it was real.

Of course, he could have turned it in and said it was an honest mistake, because it was. There were several copies of the letter rolled in a cardboard tube up for sale, and he had just chosen one that seemed tucked away.

It was his first taste of the thrill of having a big secret. He was hooked. To be honest, he wanted to show it to his mother, but when she came back five months later from Santorini, Greece, she didn’t seem to care and said that she would be going to Phuket in a week.

He shouldn’t have been too upset. Since his father died, the maid and the butler had to raise him, singing praises in his ears about how his parents would be so proud. Well one was dead and the other didn’t care, so the only one who could be proud of him was himself.

Holding a piece of history in his hands made him feel powerful. It made him feel so much more powerful than knowing just how much money he had inherited. Oh sure, he had everything he ever really wanted. Good test scores, money, an acceptance to a good university, but nothing ever made him feel as important as having that scroll in his hands.

He had coincidentally, again, worn a mask, glasses, and a hat when visiting the museum, along with a large puffy jacket because it was cold outside and he was feeling somewhat sick. The camera footage had caught a completely covered male, but couldn’t trace any sort of physical evidence.

The police were stupid. So stupid. There were hundreds of visitors to the museum, and at least half visited the gift shop, and he doubts that many would have bought a copy of the letter. He didn’t intend to commit a crime, so he knows that he must have left DNA evidence behind and his path should have been traceable. But no, they concentrated on getting back the rest of the artifacts hidden around the gift shop and finding out who had broken-in and intended on taking them. Just in case, he never wore the clothing items that he had worn that day again.

The other artifacts were bought by other people, and only half of the artifacts were recovered from the thieves hiding them away in the gift shop. Everyone paid in cash, including Sehun. He supposes they were stowed away in the gift shop because there was high foot traffic, lower quality camera footage, and overall less suspicion.

It was a smart theft, but not a good one.

The police system failed the museum, just like they had failed his father years ago. The system was messed up. And he’d continue to expose that, even if this was his last crime. Who knows? Maybe he’d join the intelligence service for the irony.

The fireplace crackles as his phone begins to vibrate. Vivi shifts in his lap as he reaches for his phone and swipes to accept the call.

“What now, Luhan?”

“Have you seen my lighter? I can’t find it anywhere and I always keep it on me.”

Sehun yawns. “No."

Luhan curses, and he sounds slightly distraught as he mumbles to himself. “Did I leave it at Jongdae’s? But they probably raided the den after they arrested him. If it’s taken as evidence—”

“It’s a gold lighter,” Sehun scoffs. “You didn’t even use it. You carried it around in your pocket and it’s pretty useless.”

On the other side of the line, Luhan is quiet. When he finally speaks up, his voice is soft and muted. “Sehun, just because it means nothing to you doesn’t mean it means nothing to me.”

“It’s a lighter. Made with gold,” Sehun deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Literally your credit cards have more meaning. It’s not like you need that display of wealth.”

“It’s important to me,” he insists, but Sehun can hear Luhan’s hesitance.

“You’re being too sensitive.” Sehun continues to press the subject. Despite what Luhan does as a living, he still cares too much. At one point of Sehun’s life, he would have hated Luhan’s business because of what he knew about comfort women, but there’s a big difference between the situations of the women in Japan and the women Luhan has. Korean women were enslaved by the Imperial Japanese Army and were never given a choice. Luhan may coerce women, but he never forces them. He doesn’t hold a gun to their heads. He doesn’t threaten to kill their families. These es willingly abandon their families, and after everything Sehun has been through, he has no spare space in his heart for them. Luhan’s women are the equivalent of living merchandise, and after years, Sehun would think that Luhan would lose his more sentimental side.

“I guess.” Luhan sounds unsure of himself. “Just, just tell me if you see it.”

Sehun sighs as Luhan quietly sniffles. Sehun softens his voice. “Would you like me to come over?”

“Yeah,” Luhan whispers. “Please?”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
 

Junmyeon combs his hair back with his fingers. It’s been a while since he’s gone out, and he feels a little out of his element. He’s wearing a leather jacket and tight black jeans, and he knows he’s trying too hard.

But he walks through the hallway into the club with more certainty than he feels, and his eyes adjust as the ceiling heightens and walls widen and he sees the flashing lights.

It’s packed with people, and the overwhelming smell of alcohol and smoke makes his nose wrinkle. There’s a DJ on stage that people are screaming at as the song changes, and Junmyeon knows that he’ll get nothing done if he asks around.

Besides, now that he thinks about it, why would a club give out condoms? That is terrible branding. Why a club? That would make more sense if it’s a strip club, and then there would be a good chance they’re conducting illegal activity in the back. ion would be likely, but not a guarantee.

It’s unlikely the woman he is trying to find was a visitor, mainly because the ratio of males to females i