Junmyeon blankly stares at the holographic screen appearing in front of him. He makes no reaction as he reads of the past events in the rebel society over, shaking his head as he hears of another death.  

He thinks it's, silly, really.  

He has always known Woo-jin could never stand on his own as a leader. He knew the second he had heard of his new moniker – Leader W.  

Junmyeon never knew of the reasoning behind such a childish moniker. One letter? Really? What exactly was he trying to achieve?  

Truly, truly, he was never cut out for it.  

A soft rap appears on his glass door, the occupant unable to see in, but Junmyeon clearly able to see the occupant.  

Junmyeon summons the person in, recognizing it is his assistant.  

She sashays in her sterile white get-up, not yet adapting to the new style of beige it seems.  

Junmyeon absentmindedly flicks his tongue over his lower lip, something looming over his endless thoughts. He comes back to focus when his assistant presents the daily reports to him, deeply bowing with her hands poised in front of her. 

"Good Morn, Sir Junmyeon," she greets, her short hair tucked neatly behind her pierced ear. 

Junmyeon nods to her, thumbing through the thin pages as he quickly scans them. He lowly hums, seeing the oil production has steadily been declining in the last few months. He looks around the wood-filled room, thinking of a solution to this problem.  

He rises to his feet, needing space to think as he paced. He lightly taps his finger against his prominent philtrum, his hand absentmindedly rummaging through the pockets of his beige slacks.  

"Contact the director of the oil production. Tell him I'd like to meet with him around... noon," Junmyeon finally says. 

"Anything for you, Sir Junmyeon," his assistant replies, her lips curved upward in a routine smile. 

She promptly walks out, her tablet cradled in the wing of her arm. 

Junmyeon lightly taps the tips of his fingers against his wooden desk, a fresh set of thoughts looming over his mind now.  

He'd make sure to tell his stylist he'd prefer to wear his navy-blue set for the meeting today. Something told him he'd need it. 

~ ~ ~ 

Junmyeon sits at the long, wooden table overlooking the city, rolling hills with trees in the far distance, while the few shiny skyscrapers painted the near.  

He instinctively holds his hand over his chest to keep his jewels from clanking everywhere, as he sniffs the freshly cut pink roses. He lets out a long exhale as he sits back, his finger finding a resting place on his moisturized lips. 

He gets lost in his thoughts once again, the looming thing becoming more intoxicating as it takes up all of his focus. He knew he should could instead keep his head level, but this was something that bothered him – worried him, even. 

As if to save Junmyeon from his own self, the director of the oil production walks in, his get up being an eccentric green suit. His earring dangles from his lone ear with every movement he makes, the thing becoming completely vertical to the ground as he bows with his hands in front of him. 

Junmyeon rises and does the same, motioning the young man to his seat.  

Once they are both seated, the young man speaks first, his eyes studying the beautiful skyline. 

"What has brought me to your presence, Sir Kim?"  

"Ever since I have assigned you to the oil production, our inventory has not been increasing like it has in past years. Could you fill me in on why that might be?"  

The man sighs, his mouth turning into a tight line. He only slightly opens it to speak once again, saying, "Well, if you would take into consideration I've been working on oil and solar production, I think you would be able to understand the decrease." 

Junmyeon nods, reiterating the short motto to himself and not aloud: 'Deliver help to those who need it. Accept help from those who give it.' 

"I see. I apologize if it seems the sudden workload is a bother. Ever since Gentleman Park's, unfortunate, accident, it's been difficult to pick up the pieces," Junmyeon says, carefully wording his thoughts. 

"So now what? Are you going to reprimand me? Ban me from going certain places? Lock me up?" 

Junmyeon audibly gasps, the words tumbling out of the young man's mouth deeply shocking him.  

"This is not like societies in the past, Gentleman Oh. We do not believe in such harsh approaches. We believe everyone makes mistakes – some bigger than others. But what do we do from those mistakes? We grow. We learn. We improve," Junmyeon preaches, gladly accepting the glass of champagne from the servant. 

Gentleman Oh does the same, quickly taking a large swig from the alcoholic beverage. 

A moment of silence passes between them, Gentleman Oh pulling out his small chunk of glass he calls a mirror, out to inspect his eye makeup. He finally puts it away, leaning his head against his propped hand. 

"Is that all you wanted to say to me?" 

"Just about. But I do need to ask you one thing. Have you -." 

Junmyeon is interrupted by the loud footsteps of his people, worry painted on all of their youthful faces. 

"Sir Junmyeon. General Lee has requested to see you," his assistant says, urgency laced in her otherwise level voice. 

Junmyeon gives a small smile to Gentleman Oh, excusing himself from the table.  

He quickly follows behind them, nervously fixing his coat as they walk.  

A million more thoughts race through his mind. He begins to feel sweat form at his brow, quickly pulling out his handkerchief to blot the offender away. 

He hopes to whatever higher power there is that everything has gone alright on his end. Junmyeon tried vigorously to keep his hands clean, and his shoes polished, but what if something had been left behind? 

He barely had the time to worry as he weaved through corridors deep underground, the elevator taking them even farther down. 

Junmyeon begins to slow down his breathing when he in the presence of General Lee, doing their custom greeting as per usual. 

All it takes is one look from the authoritative official and the others scatter out of the room, the clanking of heels and soles filling the otherwise silent room.  

Once the door finally shuts, General Lee begins to pace. This action makes Junmyeon's skin crawl. He hated how his leader had a liking to delicately beating around the bush, before he gave the bush one fatal blow, watching all of the berries fall helplessly to the ground. 

Junmyeon knew this was a serious matter by how General Lee's hands were positioned tightly behind his back, something that was a taboo to the society. 

General Lee slows down his pacing, his final resting spot being turned away from Junmyeon, his eyes looking at the painting in front of him. 

"Sir Junmyeon, right? I'll never understand why you chose to go by your first name instead of your last, but I assume we all have our perks," General starts, his hands flexing behind his back. 

Junmyeon stays silent, all of the cool air seemingly escaping from the room. 

"I suppose you wonder why I have called you here. I would reassure you that you are not in any trouble, but I cannot say that with utmost confidence." 

Junmyeon swallows, his mouth watering horribly yet his tongue being incredibly dry all at the same time.  

"Whatever it may be, I will strive to fix it. I apologize," Junmyeon interrupts, bowing with his hands in front of him. 

General Lee chuckles. "Ah, you haven't any idea if you're even the issue, yet. It seems quite strange you would apologize for something I have yet to inform you about." 

Junmyeon legs begin to shake. He's usually well-versed and confident, but General Lee can easily change that. He hates the feeling of his own words being used as a sharp weapon against himself. 

General Lee smiles to himself. He's got Junmyeon right where he wants him.  

General Lee brazenly struts to his desk, pulling out a neatly clipped stack of papers. He motions Junmyeon to the seat in front of him. 

They both take their seats, General Lee leaning far back in his chair. He nods to the stack, his eyes never leaving Junmyeon's. 

Junmyeon slightly rises from his seat to reach the papers, ironing out the wrinkles from his jacket as he took his seat again. 

He glances over the front page. Nothing immediately popped out to him as hazardous. Then he flipped to the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth. The same sequence happening over and over again. 

He nearly looks up to give his leader a look of confusion until he realized something. He moved his left thumb from its spot on the paper. He saw a faint trace of a red substance. It wasn't until he looked further up the page that he noticed the file. 

Statistics on Trade. 

Junmyeon instantly connected the dots.  

Someone was out to blackmail them. 

Junmyeon had a feeling he knew who that someone was. 

"I... I don't know what to say," Junmyeon admitted, his class act long gone. 

"Perhaps I do know of a resolution to this problem. We're lucky he didn't have the patience to read the entire thing. It's a fake, Junmyeon." 

Junmyeon reads it over again and finds the false information. He breathes a small sigh of relief. But why did the General test him in the first place? 

"Sir Junmyeon, you've been careless to cover up the tracks. I can tell by the look on your face. Had I not told you this was a test, you would've started blubbering out excuses and not answers. Try harder next time." 

Junmyeon feels his stomach drop.  

"You're excused," General Lee says, turning around to face his control panel. 

Junmyeon barely has the energy to stand to his feet. But once he does, he briskly walks out, internally beating himself up for his carelessness in the matter. 

~ ~ ~ 

Junmyeon could barely sleep that night.  

He absolutely hates the person he's become. Always keeping secrets. This was not the vision his father died for and he knew it.  

He hates it all. 

Not enough soap and water in the world could cleanse him of the sins committed against his own people, his own brethren. 

Junmyeon knew there was more than met the eye with General Lee. He just prayed the leader would no longer burden him with the secrets of the past, present, and future. 

He didn't know how much more he could take. 

In a state of dissatisfaction, Junmyeon opens the screen door to his balcony, his bare feet hitting the cold stone.  

He leans over the wooden railing, his bangs softly falling into his face as the wind softly blew. The gentle breeze provides him with a sense of relief, his satin pajamas sticking to him like a second skin from all the personified sweat exiting his pores. 

He watches as a couple happily walks along the road, not a twinge of fear in the atmosphere. His heart warms as he hears them laugh.  

It was dark out, yet they could make their own light together. 

Junmyeon leans farther against the cool, steel railing, his fingernails grazing the thick balusters.  

"Sir Junmyeon," a soft voice speaks up. 

Junmyeon casually whips around, slowing his movements so he wouldn't look so startled at the unannounced entrance. 

"General Lee would like to converse with you," his assistant says, bringing Junmyeon a severely outdated flip phone. 

Junmyeon gulped. He knew this was serious.  

Junmyeon holds it up to his ear, not uttering a single word until he hears the sliding door gently shut with a soft 'thud'.  

"Listen carefully," General Lee speaks, his voice much deeper than usual. "I need you to look into something for me. You must heed all of my directions in order to keep your identity a secret. . . Unless you really are the people's leader and would like to risk your life for this." 

"N-No, sir. I'm ready to listen," Junmyeon speaks, fear beginning to form along his brow. 

"Good." 

~   ~   ~ 

Junmyeon works his way through the throngs of people, his head covered up with a black hat. He doesn't quite see the need to investigate this little 'rebellion' over the phone, but he sees it much more clearly in person.  

He notices the majority of the crowd huddled around the small fire, the speaker up on a pedestal not too far away from them.  

Junmyeon attempts to get as close as possible without being too obvious. He sticks his hands in his long, black trench coat to try to look casual but horrendously fails. He instead settles for leaning against a metal beam supporting the bridge up above.  

Just as Junmyeon's fatigue begins to take over, the speaker finally prepares to speak.  

"Thank you all for coming out tonight. It really means the world to me. I know you all have come to hear me say me piece on Gentleman Park's recent injuries. Truth be told, I wasn't planning to go that route, but something told me to speak up. There might be someone out there willing to listen and perhaps change the current circumstances." 

The speaker pauses to collect his thoughts, Junmyeon finally feeling energy surging through his bones.  

"I think that this was no accident. It had to be pre-meditated."