Part VI. The Easy Descent

It was the sound of knocking that Kyungsoo woke to, confused, aching and disorientated. He lay for a moment twisted in his thin hotel bedsheets, unsure of where he was and why he was there. If there was a tether that connected the mind to the body, his was pulled far too taunt and so terribly thin, precariously close to shredding apart. He wasn’t sure what the consequences would be, should it happen. 

There was another three sharp raps on his hotel door and Kyungsoo heaved himself upright, placing his feet down firmly on the carpeted floor as if to establish himself in the room, lest he somehow drift from it. His head panged and he winced, blinking the blurriness from his vision as he stood and made his way to the door, which remained bolted. He fumbled with uncooperative fingers as he unlocked the door, opening it gingerly and wincing at the light that streamed in through the thin opening he had made. A figure stepped into the light and Kyungsoo’s mind temporarily short circuited at the sight of the highly polished brown leather shoes his eyes had zeroed in on.

Gaze travelling upwards, Kyungsoo’s eyes finally met the single, sharp eye of Doctor Kim Jongin from between opening he had made. For a moment, Kyungsoo felt that the sliver of Jongin that he could see reflected what he knew of the man: there was so much to him, yet so little Kyungsoo was truly privy too. At the same time, he realised it went both ways: he saw as much of Jongin as the Doctor saw of him. A mutual meeting had to occur between them with all pretences dropped.

But Kyungsoo recognised that such an occurrence was to invite someone to truly see him. The more he considered it, the more Kyungsoo felt that he was not strong enough to let such a thing happen. Anguish engulfed him abruptly and he couldn’t help but feel so desperately alone despite the fact that all that physically separated them was the door between them. Still, to Kyungsoo, the man beyond his door felt so terribly out of reach and his heart ached.

“Good morning, Kyungsoo.” Jongin’s voice was like a warm ray of sunlight that cut through the smog and despair of Kyungsoo’s thoughts. “May I come in?”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo responded rather stupidly, automatically opening the door to let the doctor in. “Yes, of course. Sorry, I didn’t realise it was you.” 

Jongin was impeccable as always, dark hair parted into a perfectly styled wave that brushed against the clear expanse of his forehead. He was wearing a slim fitted light grey suit with his characteristic wide lapels. The suit was patterned with widely spaced chalk brown stripes that were contrasted against the darker chocolate brown silk dress shirt he was wearing. The rich, light patterned burgundy coloured tie he wore was knotted thickly, the silk reflecting in the light and glinting flashes of darker red. Kyungsoo could only watch mutely as he entered the room with grace, eyes merely flicking over the piles of clutter and mess Kyungsoo had left strewn across his room. Kyungsoo, despite his embarrassment, was thankful for the doctors tact. 

“You don’t look very well rested.” Jongin frowned as he turned towards Kyungsoo, who averted his gaze. He hadn’t yet seen himself in his bathroom mirror but was sure his skin was pale and the dark circles under his eyes would be bruise-like. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” Kyungsoo changed the topic. 

“Minseok contacted me to let me know Joonmyeon has granted me on-scene access, per your request.” Jongin replied smoothly, moving towards the small kitchenette on the other side of the room. “I took the opportunity to ask for your hotel address while on the phone with him. Shall I brew us some tea?”

“I forgot I asked him to do that.” Kyungsoo replied simply, wincing as he rubbed at his temple. “And yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

Jongin merely smiled gently in response, dingy hotel kettle looking ridiculously out of place in his hands as he filled it with water.  Kyungsoo hovered, unsure what to do.

“Take a seat, Kyungsoo. I’m the one imposing on you so please just relax.” Despite his back being turned, Jongin spoke as though he had eyes on the back of his head that could see Kyungsoo fretting. Kyungsoo did as he was told silently. “Do you want milk or sugar with your tea?”

“No thank you, plain black tea will be fine.” Kyungsoo murmured, staring at his hands on top of the cheap linoleum tabletop before him. He listened as Jongin moved around the small space — the ding of the freshly boiled kettle, the sound of Jongin opening the fridge to get out the complimentary milk that had been provided, and the sound of soft footfall as The Doctor walked over to where he sat, placing down two plain white mugs on the table in a single fluid motion as he sat down on the single chair across from Kyungsoo. 

Their eyes met across the table and Jongin smiled gently, sliding a mug of tea across the table to Kyungsoo smoothly. “How are you, Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo lifted his hands from the tabletop and wrapped them around the mug. Every motion felt slow and heavy. “I’m anxious” 

“What is it you dread, Kyungsoo?” Jongin’s words were gentle and for several moments Kyungsoo struggled to process them into something he could answer coherently.

“Theres so much.” He replied weakly. “I’m in too deep. The more I think about it, the more I realise its too late.” Kyungsoo stared across the small table, his tormented gaze meetings Jongin’s with an intensity that silently implored the doctor to see and understand all the unsaid things that lingered in the spaces between his words. 

How desperate, how pitiful — to have to beg like a dog in order to receive even the smallest scraps of understanding. How pathetic, how wretched — to be a person so twisted and other that even the ability to communicate the pain that plagues you is beyond your reach. A voice not quite his own mocked him cruelly from the corner of the room and Kyungsoo twitched, doing his best to ignore it and forge on. Not quite human, not quite man, something wrong that exists out of sight, out of mind.

“Have you ever felt like you’re on a path that can’t be changed?” Kyungsoo hated how his voice trembled. “Maybe if I had made the decision to leave this case two months ago I could have escaped all of this relatively unscathed. Two months, one month, two weeks, one week. It doesn’t matter now, because I didn’t — I was too wilful, I kept telling myself to endure and be good. Now it’s become clear to me that I’ve missed my chance to escape. The track has become a straight line that’s hurtling towards a cliffs edge, and there’s no other options left for me but to follow it to the end.”

“You’re self aware, Kyungsoo.” If the Doctor was disturbed by his confession, he showed no sign of it.  “You say you were wilful, but for what reason? Why did you choose to continue as you did?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Kyungsoo answered honestly. “I told myself it was because I wanted to be the opposite of what I felt, but I think that was just a means of covering up my own greed. The love is real, you know. No one else sees it between the layers of gore, no one else can feel it, but despite the horror it’s there. And it’s so strong. I feel it so sharply, and now I’ve gotten a taste for it.” Kyungsoo’s eyes glazed over, his expression suddenly hazy as the love pushed and pulled within him like waves meeting the shore. So close as it washed over him, so far as it pulled away, leaving him cold and hungry for more. Thats how it had always been: love was his only for a moment before it moved beyond his reach once more.

“Has the killers impulses become your own?” 

Kyungsoo shook his head frantically. “No, no, no.” The denial flowed from his mouth smoothly, like coursing water over river stones. “I would never do such things, not ever.”

“So his love, then.” Jongin’s voice had taken on a peculiar tone and Kyungsoo turned towards him, expression half pleading.  

“I’m not a bad person.” The statement felt hollow and foolish, like the words of a guilty child imploring an adult that it hadn’t been them who had stolen the cookies from the cookie jar. Jongin’s gaze was sharp on his face, various emotions seeming to flash across his handsome features too quickly for Kyungsoo to read. “I wouldn’t do anything bad, I wouldn’t. But if I left now, I’d still go looking—“ At the last moment he pulled up short, reigning the words back in with wide eyes.

Jongin reached across the table suddenly, warm hands cupping Kyungsoo’s clammy, pale face. The Doctor’s expression was gentle, but his eyes were bright with something Kyungsoo couldn’t decipher. His fingers splayed across the expanse of Kyungsoo’s pallid cheeks, the warmth from his palms a balm that Kyungsoo couldn’t help but lean into hungrily. “You are too good, Kyungsoo, and you suffer for it. How sorry I am that it has come to this.”
 

Kyungsoo decided to go rogue - there was no point in avoiding the unavoidable, and following the rules as he had been did nothing but slow him down. The drive to the city of Yamato in the Kanagawa prefecture took only just over an hour and the expensive government issued car Kyungsoo drove was effortlessly smooth and fine tuned - totally unlike him in the moment. It had been easy enough to get the car issued to him, a few quick white lies and half truths was all it had taken. Kyungsoo could do nothing but sculpt his outward facade into something that vaguely resembled calm and focus himself as much as he possibly could on driving without crashing. The leather seat he sat in seemed to mould against his body and although externally he seemed fine, internally his mind was sweeping from one chaotic extreme to another.

From the front, Park Ryokan was a traditional looking building on a larger than average block of land. Kyungsoo felt sweaty and unsteady as he made his way over to the elegant wooden sei mon gate and his vision swam uncomfortably as he watched his own hand in slow motion as he reached out to press the guest buzzer. Several agonising seconds passed before a pleasantly deep voice crackled through the intercom. 

“Welcome to Park Ryokan, how may I be of assistance?”

“Hello, is this the owner of the residence?” Kyungsoo pulled himself together just in time to answer. 

“Yes, that’s me. Are you here to make a booking?”

“No, I’m not here as a guest.” Kyungsoo replied. “My name is Do Kyungsoo — I’m here on business for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police.”

“The police?” The pleasantly deep voiced individual on the other end of the intercom sounded surprised. “Please wait a moment, I’ll be right out.” 

The intercom clicked to silence a second later and Kyungsoo stood, practically vibrating with repressed tension. After a minute or so of waiting, he could make out the sound of approaching footsteps from the other side of the wooden entrance gate, and a second later he heard the metal of the hatch being manoeuvred open. The gate opened smoothly and Kyungsoo found himself looking up at a tall, handsome man with slightly wavy chocolate brown hair and out-turned ears. His features were open and soft, hair brushed away from his forehead to highlight his large, dark eyes, pleasant jawline and slender neck. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Kyungsoo registered the man before him as the deep voiced speaker from the intercom. “My name is Park Chanyeol, it’s nice to meet you.” The man smiled and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but return the gesture, albeit a little shakily. Chanyeol exuded warmth and amicability, but at the same time, Kyungsoo found himself somewhat overwhelmed by his unexpected good looks. “Please come in.”

Chanyeol pushed the gate open fully and stepped to the side as he held it open. Kyungsoo bobbed his head in thanks as he passed by, and he registered vaguely the sound of Chanyeol closing the gate gently, latch lock clicking shut seconds later. Kyungsoo gazed about himself, impressed by the manicured garden he found himself standing in. The yard and the buildings Kyungsoo could see screamed of old money. 

“Please follow me.” The sound of Chanyeol’s deep voice broke Kyungsoo from his musings. Kyungsoo did as he was bid and Chanyeol made his way smoothly towards what Kyungsoo assumed was the main house. Kyungsoo could tell that the tall man that led the way was well accustomed to leading guests to and fro.

“I must admit I’m rather confused as to why an officer from the metropolitan police is here.” Chanyeol said as he slid the entrance door of the main building open, stepping to the side once more to allow Kyungsoo to enter first. “Has there been some sort of accident?” The handsome man pulled a pair of indoor slippers out of a hidden drawer as he spoke, placing them by Kyungsoo who slipped them on awkwardly. Chanyeol’s expression was troubled, but, ever the good Ryokan host, he remained professional. 

“No, no accident.” Kyungsoo murmured. Some of the worry seemed to leave Chanyeol at that. He opened yet another sliding door and Kyungsoo blinked owlishly at the beautiful tatami room he had just been led into. It reminded him of some of the traditional restaurants Jongin had taken him to before. 

“Please take a seat.” Chanyeol said, motioning at the nearby low table which was circled by a number of zabuton cushions. “Would you like some tea?”

Kyungsoo shook his head, blinking owlishly. “Oh no, this is more than enough, thank you. This is a beautiful building.”

“Thank you. My family has been running this Ryokan for three generations now.” Chanyeol smiled brightly for a moment before sobering once more. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here, Officer Do?”

“Please just call me Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo responded. “I’m consulting on a case currently and one of the addresses that came up in a shipment record of interest was linked to a block under your name. I was hoping to be able to clarify a few things with you, if possible.”

“Of course.” Chanyeol said sincerely. He frowned, expression concerned as he thought for a moment. “My father passed seven years ago from a and everything was automatically transferred to me. To be perfectly honest, there are a number of blocks and buildings that are under my name that I haven’t even visited.”

“Please don’t feel alarmed, we’re just trying to tie together loose threads.” Kyungsoo responded. “Does the name Oh Lumber Co ring any bells?”

Chanyeol blinked. “Yes, actually. That just so happens to be one of the few rentals I was actually involved in. It hasn’t been in operation for quite some time now, though. Mr Oh was involved in an accident around two years ago and has been hospitalised since. The warehouse is still there, more or less untouched.” He paused for a moment in thought. “Mr Oh’s son currently lives here, if you want you can speak to him when he gets back? He’s at the hospital now — he goes daily to visit his father. He can probably take you to the warehouse, too, if you’d like to see it for yourself.”

Kyungsoo nodded, shocked by his luck. “That would be extremely helpful, thank you.”

“Of course.” Chanyeol smiled.
 

Oh Sehun was almost eighteen years old but still had the look of a teen who had not yet quite made it to adulthood. His body had clearly shot up during puberty and left him looking a little too lean for his own good — he wasn’t an unattractive young man, though, by any means. In fact, it was quite the contrary: his features were angular and well proportioned, and he had been blessed with clear skin and well balanced features, something that many of his peers probably weren’t lucky enough to be able to claim. It was obvious that given a bit more time he would fill out and become quite the man — that was later, though, in the future. For now he remained one of those almost adults who, despite being attractive, looked a little awkward in their own bodies. 

There was something about him though, that Kyungsoo couldn’t quite work around. His expression wasn’t closed, but it wasn’t open or readable, either. There was a certain tension to his posture that Kyungsoo couldn’t quite place. He was clearly intelligent, and he eyed Kyungsoo almost wearily. Chanyeol had had to step out to greet some guests to the ryokan, leaving Kyungsoo alone with the teen — no words had been spoken since. Something niggled at Kyungsoo’s conscience, but he tampered it down as he took in the young man before him. 

“Do you have any recollection of a shipment of Huon Pine from Australia?” Kyungsoo asked abruptly, having finally decided to cut straight to the chase.

The teen shook his head. “I wasn’t involved in the timber milling aspect of my fathers business. He would order things as he saw fit. I do woodwork on the side as a hobby. I did, I mean. Past tense.” He corrected himself. Sehun’s voice was that of an average young man — the only thing that set it apart from any other teen Kyungsoo had met was the very faint lisp that would crop up from time to time. It was clear he had gone to great lengths to rid himself of it.  “That was the only time I ever really handled any of the timber, and even then it was more or less scrap parts that I would salvage to use for fun. I haven’t done any of that since the accident, though.” For a second Sehun’s expression twisted in misery.

“I’m really sorry about your father, Sehun.” Kyungsoo said. Something about the palpable pain on the young mans face pulled at Kyungsoo’s heart strings. 

Sehun shrugged, a poor attempt at acting blasé. It was clear in the set of his shoulders that it hurt him more than he would ever care to admit. “There’s nothing to be done. My father is a vegetable being kept alive through tube feedings.” Suddenly there was anger in his tone. Obviously he had yet to fully process his grief. “There’s nothing good keeping me here.”

His tone was bitter — Kyungsoo was all too familiar with it: something lingered unsaid. 

Abruptly, the young man sighed. “I can take you to the warehouse tomorrow. If you don’t mind I wont go in, though. It makes me unhappy being there.”

“Of course, thats perfectly fine. I’m sorry for the trouble I’m causing you.”

Sehun lips curved up very slightly at that – he looked a lot younger and softer when he smiled, even if the expression seemed a little forced. His jawline was sharp as he turned towards the window that overlooked the pristine gardens, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but focus on the tightening corners of his eyes as he spoke. “It’s no trouble. Hopefully it will be helpful to you, somehow.”
 

He was missing something — there was a vital piece of the puzzle that he had misplaced, somehow. All the pieces were laid out perfectly, but the picture was still all wrong. 

Chanyeol had graciously showed him to a single futon room, just as beautiful as all the other rooms he had seen before it, and Sehun had brought him a home cooked dinner before bidding him goodnight. Kyungsoo had had to spend little time unpacking the overnight backpack he had brought with him and had promptly ignored all the missed calls and texts from Minseok on his phone, instead opting to send Jongin a quick update text and his location before turning his phone off completely. His head was hurting and he was fumbling again, slotting together fresh pieces of a puzzle in the dark. 

The meal he had been given went mostly uneaten, and he instead laid awake in the dark, thoughts racing and churning within his skull. 

“Are you close?”

Kyungsoo turned his head towards the hoarse voice. A teen in a muddy uniform sat cross legged barely a meter away from his futon, soaked uniform pooling bloody mud onto the tatami flooring. His death coloured hands were propped under his too-sharp chin, elbows on his knees as he supported his head. Kyungsoo swallowed thickly as he watched dirtied muck ooze from the teens gorged eye sockets, gritty mud dripping steadily from his matted hair.

“— or have you wasted time again, chasing something that wont ever satisfy you.” The teen in a wet breath. “Hungry as you are. You keep gorging yourself till you’re sick, but it’s never enough, is it?”

“No, it’s never enough.” Kyungsoo admitted weakly into the darkness, voice little more than a whisper. 

The teen sighed. “Greedy. You’re too greedy. You said this wouldn’t happen, but here you are. You said you’d stop but you’re too weak to even try and put up a fight.”

Kyungsoo stared at the teens scuffed school loafers, once shining leather now water logged. “I wasn’t the one that did this to you.” Kyungsoo breathed. “I’m not like them.”

The dead teens expression twisted, taunt skin pulling awfully against sunken features. The too tight skin of his rotting cheeks cracked, the smell of death sickly sweet and cloying as he leaned forwards. A terrible wet rattling left the teens damaged throat and it took Kyungsoo several awful seconds to realise the he was being laughed at. 

“You were always good at keeping secrets. Does it feel good to tell lies now, too?” Kyungsoo couldn’t help but wonder whether the mirth in the teens rasped words was truly there, or if it was merely a reflection of his own inner thoughts, manifesting itself. “Is there some satisfaction in your self denial?” 

A shaky breath left Kyungsoo. “Of course. Self denial will always feel better than doing terrible things.” 

“Haven’t you realised yet?” The teen ceased to move so suddenly that Kyungsoo couldn’t help but blink in surprise. It was jarring just how abruptly and unnaturally all motion stopped: Kyungsoo was reminded acutely just how dead the young man before him was — he felt stupid for having let himself grow so desensitised that he was able to overlook it in the first place. “Can’t you feel it?”

Kyungsoo watched, transfixed, as the teens bruised lips parted, words forced up out of water logged airways. 

“You’re going to snap soon too, you know.” 

Kyungsoo shuddered into wakefulness, eyes snapping open and pupils contracting painfully as he registered the weak morning light streaming in from the window he laid turned towards. The words he had just heard filled his skull, the silence of the room he laid in booming too loudly to be ignored. His body felt too small, his skin too tight and strained to contain whatever it was within him that strained to be released. Kyungsoo closed his eyes against the autumn light and did his best to ignore the emotions that welled, precariously close to overflowing, within him.
 

Sehun came across him in the garden, tucked out of sight within a grove of strategically planted and well established Red Emperor maple trees. The bright red leaves above rustled in the cool autumn breeze and, although the setting was pleasant, Kyungsoo was anything but comfortable. He sat slouched on the stone chair he had happened upon, clammy face buried in his trembling hands as pain lanced through his skull at random intervals. 

“Mister Do?”

Kyungsoo looked up, wincing. “Sehun. Good morning.”

Sehun looked at him quizzically. “It’s already almost two in the afternoon. Are you feeling alright?”

“Not really.” Kyungsoo grimaced. “Sorry, I slept poorly last night.” 

The young man frowned slightly. “Chanyeol can probably move you into another room, if the one you’re in now isn’t to your liking?”

“No, no. There are no problems with the room at all.” The exhaustion he felt made his filter less functional than normal, and words continued to slip from him without his consent. “Its just me. Theres something wrong with me.”

Sehun, who remained standing in front of him, looked troubled. His body shifted infinitesimally and his lips parted for a second, as though he wished to speak. It was as if he had words lodged in his throat, but didn’t know the way to go about delivering them.

“Why are you here, Mister Do?” The teen finally asked, voice quiet. Kyungsoo blinked as he considered the question for a moment. 

“I’m looking for someone.” He responded honestly. 

Sehun was silent for several seconds. When he next spoke, the question that left him sounded almost hesitant. “What case are you investigating, Mister Do?”

Kyungsoo his chapped lips, looking down at his hands for a moment. They were covered in blood. He shook his head slightly to clear his eyes and when he refocused once more on his hands, they were clean. It was simply the reddish dappled light from the leaves above that coloured his skin.

“The Kanagawa Killer.”

Recognition flickered in Sehun’s dark eyes. “Are you trying to catch the person killing those boys?”

It was funny, Kyungsoo thought to himself, how Sehun had separated himself from the murdered teens. Despite the similarities they shared and despite being little more than a boy himself, the living always sought a distinction from the dead. It was only natural, he supposed.

Still, the love welled up in Kyungsoo once more. It sloshed in the cavity of his chest and burnt its way up his throat. It was too easy, too, to let it have him. That was the problem with love — it was like getting into bed after an exhausting day. Letting himself sink down into the depths of it was as easy as breathing. 

“No. There’s someone else I’m looking for.”

Sehun was silent. When Kyungsoo looked up, he could only watch in muted horror at the fire that had burst out across the teens body. It spread silently, charring his fair skin as it spread across his clothes and bared flesh. Kyungsoo raised his hands to his face, pressing his palms sharply against his aching eyes — when he removed them, Sehun stood before him, flame free and expression concerened. The reddish hued light that streamed down from the maple leaves above them that coloured Sehun’s pale skin was just that: light. Kyungsoo swallowed thickly and willed himself to ignore the taste of blood at the back of his throat. 
 

When Kyungsoo and Sehun entered the main Ryokan building, Chanyeol stood facing them as he spoke to a man Kyungsoo recognised almost immediately — Jongin. Kyungsoo opened his mouth to call out a greeting, but his voice caught in his throat as he registered Chanyeol’s expression: the handsome mans features were strained, a number of emotions flashing across his face in a convoluted mixture. However, as soon as he noticed them approaching from over Jongin’s shoulder, his face smoothed out, a warm smile spreading across his face as he raised a hand in greeting. Jongin turned, similar smile spreading across his face as he took in the sight of Kyungsoo.

“There you two are.” Chanyeol’s deep voice was pleasant. “I was starting to worry. Doctor Kim was asking for you, Kyungsoo.”

Jongin inclined his head. “I’m sorry to show up out of the blue. I responded to the text you sent me last night, but you never replied. I was worried, and Minseok has been hounding me all day.” The latter half of the Doctor’s sentence was laden with unsaid meaning: I’ve covered for you. Kyungsoo opened his mouth to speak, but Chanyeol beat him to it.

“Have you been to the warehouse yet?” Chanyeol asked, but his words were directed at Sehun, who shook his head. 

“We were in the garden, talking.”

Chanyeol hummed, looking out the at the swaying trees and flurry of fallen leaves that the wind had picked up. The sky had darkened considerably. “Good thing you came in when you did, I suppose. It looks like it’s going to rain.” He turned to Kyungsoo. “Do you still want to take a look? The last guests just checked out for the day so I have some free time. The warehouse is within walking distance, but seeing as the weather isn’t looking too good I can drive you there, if you’d like.”

“I would appreciate that.” Kyungsoo said, somewhat surprised. “I’ve already intruded for far too long. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I’ve taken a look.”

Chanyeol waved a hand as if to dispel the notion, smile sincere. “It’s fine, really.” He turned towards Sehun, who was looking between them with an unreadable expression on his face. “Perhaps you can serve Doctor Kim some tea while we’re out? It should only take half an hour or so.”

“Okay.” The young man replied. Sehun’s dark eyed gaze locked onto Kyungsoo suddenly — he looked on the verge of saying something, but at the last moment he changed his mind, instead turning to Jongin. “I’ll prepare some tea, if you’d follow me?”

“Of course.” Jongin’s gaze slid over to Kyungsoo and Chanyeol for a moment. “See you in a little while, then.”

Sehun led Jongin away smoothly, and Kyungsoo stood for several moments, staring at the spot they had been standing just seconds earlier. Something felt off, somehow, but he didn’t know what or how. He had gotten so used to always feeling off in some way or another that it was almost too hard to tell now whether there was really a cause for concern, or if it was just him internally, like usual. 

The sound of Chanyeol’s deep voice cut his internal worrying short — 

“Shall we get going?”

Kyungsoo nodded as he turned towards the handsome Ryokan owner, forcibly ignoring the sound of steady dripping and waterlogged breathing that rattled just behind him. "Yes, lets go."

...
A/N
Hello! This is a very dialogue heavy chapter, I hope it flows alright.

Thank you as always to everyone reading. See you next update!