The once belligerent man dropped the fierce glare that he used to have and sighed. As Jaeseop recalled his doings, a smirk crept up his face. It was a gesture of accomplishment; a sense of superiority; an expression of satisfaction.

 

He had no specific target. Soojin was just there at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Jaeseop nodded, remembering.

 

He tightened his grip and Soojin stifled a gasp. Dragging her over the corner, he pressed a cloth that had been impregnated with chloroform to her nose and mouth. Her struggles ceased as the solvent took effect. 

 

He pushed the point of the knife very slightly into the girl's pale skin. A small red spot swelled with blood. He grinned at the sight.  He put his hand on the side of her face, bending her head unnaturally to the side. The blade ran across her neck, harsh and quick. 

 

Blood slid down and soaked her clothes. The man's heart raced in anticipation, swinging the knife down. The sharp object cut her skin. Red lines appeared one by one as he sliced at her skin. 

 

Stepping back, he took in the sight of his 'design'. He shook his head; it was not perfect yet. Heaving the body over his shoulder, he carried her up a ten-storey building which happened to be nearby.

 

Throwing her off the rooftop, he stepped up on the parapet. His gaze dropped, admiring his 'piece of art'. The body sprawled on the ground as a pool of red coloured the grey concrete.

 

"Perfect," Jaeseop whistled, fingers curling in exaggeration once he finished his recount.

 

Changmin stayed silent for a moment then, he flipped the papers before him.

 

"An animal abuser like yourself actually decides to attack people instead?" Changmin questioned, raising an eyebrow.

 

Jaeseop laughed and slapped the table with his free hand. 

 

"An animal abuser? Such a crude name. I call myself the Designer of Death," the murderer said with pride.

 

Changmin rolled his eyes, shrugging his shoulders.

 

"As a young boy, I met a strange encounter. A cat, at the edge of death, actually turned into a person. And I caused it. I, with my bare hands, did that. It was the best masterpiece. The best." He paused, waiting for the cop to have any reaction. 

 

This guy's nuts, Changmin thought. Nevertheless, he urged the criminal to go on talking.

 

"I tried and tried, again and again. It never happened again," he continued, voice filled with disappointment. "Then, a thought came about. Why not I create an art with the final product and make my masterpiece the greatest masterpiece?"

 

"Er..." Changmin dragged his words. "So, that's the motive?"

 

"What motive? I call it a movement, a mission to design the best death." Jaeseop chuckled, lacing his fingers under the table.

 

Changmin nodded his head slowly, beckoning for the police officer to bring Jaeseop back behind the bars. He did not understand entirely but somehow. 

 

"Is that your only response?!" Jaeseop yelled. "It's a waste of breath to tell you all this. Aish."

 

*****

 

He took his things out one by one from a cardboard box. When he came to an picture frame, his eyes turned glassy and guilt welled up in him. His dark orbs felt upon his younger self then, he blinked, focusing his attention on a woman sitting by his side. What a fool he was then! He shut his eyes and tilted his head downwards, letting his head fall forward into his hands and letting emotions course through him.

 

His mother smiled and clutched his hand, swinging it back and forth in the space between them. He trotted spryly, rushing her to be quick because he wanted to be home in time to catch his favourite cartoon. 

 

She checked his seatbelt again before turning out of the carpark. The journey was rather uneventful with the exception of the occasional impatient request from him to ask his mother to hurry. It was only until they had reached the highway when things started to go wrong. It started to rain then, and the darkness of the night seemed to enclose the car in its grip despite the flashlights in the front of the car.

 

"Umma!" he whined.

 

The car accelerated and it was too late when his mother noticed the truck hiding round the corner. With a slam on the brake in a desperate attempt to dodge the oncoming vehicle, the car screeched and swivelled as it rotated on the slippery road and then, smashed into a huge tree. Glass shattered and the engine hissed a spiteful sound. As the flash lights slowly faded away, the night fell around the wreckage like a black cloak.

 

There was a pain in his leg and a nasty smell. His leg was scraped. His mother's arms were tightly wrapped around his tiny body. 

 

"It hurts! It hurts, Umma..." the boy cried. 

 

There was no response. He turned his head as much as he could before the pain was unbearable and cried out in horror. Her eyes were closed, and there was a thin trickle of red leaking out of the corner of . He called her. He reached his hand out to touch the blood that was steadily flowing from the gash in her head. His eyes widened as tears sprang from his eyes. He wailed and shook his mother.

 

That was the last he remembered before his mind became blank.

 

By some twisted strand of fate, he had managed to survive the crash but his mother did not. She was the only one he ever had. He knew nothing of his father. His mother never spoke of him. No one ever did. 

 

When he opened his eyes again, he surveyed the stark white surroundings and grimaced at a bolt of pain shot through him as he turned his head. His aunt was there. Dark circles ringed her eyes — a sign of too many sleepless nights taking a toll on her. She held his small hands, squeezing them as she tried to join words that would create a devastating impact to the poor child.

 

It wasn not necessary though for he knew. He knew, at a tender age, what the death of a closed one was like. His face contorted with raw emotion as he choked out words, "Auntie... Auntie... I-It... was my fault. I shouldn't... I shouldn't..." He gasped for air. "I shouldn't have rushed her... Umma... Umma..." He wept, voice cracking with emotion. "Umma died because of me!"

 

His aunt shook her head continuously and muttered, "No, Jaejoongie. It's not you, Jaejoong. It's not..." Tears streamed down her face. "You poor child."

 

Jaejoong knew she was not being truthful. How could he not be the cause? He was there. 

 

Jaejoong rubbed his thumb across the photograph and then gently placed the frame on a shelf. He sighed. 

 

His mother died as a result of his own selfishness. An innocent acquaintance lost his life due to his undercover job. Soojin, his cousin, was killed because he failed to protect her. He felt that he had let his aunt down. She had been with him ever since the accident happened yet, he could not even do a simple thing like preventing any harm to fall upon his cousin.

 

During the wake, people came to offer their condolences. He believed that he did not deserve their sympathy. People who were close to him died because of him, more or less.

 

~.~.~.~ 

 

When things were settled, Jaejoong figured that there was a need to introduce himself to his new neighbour. Since he lived in an apartment that was in the corner, he only had one neighbour. Thus, he found it important to be in good terms with that person.

 

He knocked on the door and immediately, the door swung open.

 

"Kibum—" said Yunho, his voice faltered when it was not the one he was expecting for a visit. Good riddance, it's that cop again, he thought. "How can I help you?"

 

Jaejoong introduced himself before asking for his neighbour's name, smiling politely all the while.

 

"Jung Yunho," the vampire answered curtly, not even bothering to offer a handshake. 

 

Thousands of names ran through the cop's head. He was certain that he heard this name before. His face lit up when he remembered.

 

"Aren't you the one who works at Zygous host club?" blurted Jaejoong.

 

Yunho stared at the male for a moment then he realised that it was possible for the man before him to know of it.

 

"Yes, I am," he replied.

 

Yunho had not invited the cop in. The door was only half-opened. Suddenly, there was a yelp coming from inside. Jaejoong craned his neck to look into the house but Yunho instantly blocked his view.

 

"Did I just hear a dog bark?" Jaejoong pried.

 

"N-No, you haven't," Yunho ended, slamming the door in Jaejoong's face. 

 

Cold sweat threatened to surface. Turning around, Yunho glared at a puppy. 

 

"You cute little thing," Yunho said in an indulgent, cutesy voice that people used to talk to animals and babies.

 

The puppy barked and ran around in circles, chasing its tail. 

 

"You fool! Don't take that as a compliment of mine. Hear the sarcasm dripping from my every word," the vampire hissed.

 

It whined, sitting on its hind legs. 

 

"The landlord doesn't allow pets in the apartment. If that cop goes off telling him... That cunning man would definitely take advantage and raise the rent."

 

The dog scratched its ear using one of its hind legs.

 

"Kibum! I'll hold you responsible for the increase of rent."

 

The dog lay on its belly, tongue sticking out of the mouth.

 

"Y-You!" the vampire fumed. "And here I thought you would use the door."

 

The puppy's form slowly changed to that of Kibum's.

 

"Be kind to this neighbour of yours then," the younger vampire suggested before leaping out of the window.

 

"I would never—" Yunho's voice trailed off as he exhaled heavily.

 

 

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