“I know we’re on a very important and serious mission,” Namjoo said, “But can we seriously try their chicken?”

“We are not here to create content for your mukbang Youtube channel, Unnie,” Hayoung replied.

“You know about that?”

“I do now.”

Namjoo looked minimally embarrassed; she just shrugged and said, “I have to earn money one way or another.”

“Oh? And what about your other job?”

“The pay isn’t nearly as good.”

Hayoung forced back a choke. It had been a joke, but it had still caught her off guard. “Right. And I suppose you paid for your new top-of-the-line sniper rifle and combat boots using your mukbang money.”

“You’d be surprised how much money is in the mukbang industry,” Namjoo said. She stopped outside the door of a small shop. “Here we are.”

Hayoung surveyed the quaint little restaurant in front of her. It was snuggled between an ice cream shop and a convenience store, and had Namjoo not stopped, Hayoung would have walked right past the restaurant. She peered through the front windows. “It doesn’t seem to be a very popular restaurant. There are only two customers in there. Are you sure you want to try their chicken?”

“You never know. It might be a hole-in-the-wall kind of restaurant.”

“Alright,” Hayoung gave in. “Lead the way.”

Namjoo opened the door to the restaurant, and a bell at the top of the door chimed, announcing their arrival. Hayoung followed Namjoo into the restaurant, which was as small inside as it looked outside. Small, round wooden tables were organized in neat rows in the small area, and posters of chicken decorated the walls. A delicious scent wafted up Hayoung’s nose, and suddenly, Hayoung decided that she wanted to try their chicken too.

“Table for two?” an old man with thinning gray hair and round spectacles asked. He wore a black t-shirt that read the name of the restaurant and seemed to be one of the only two people working.

“Yes, please,” Namjoo replied.

The man led them to a small table near the back of the restaurant. When Hayoung and Namjoo settled into their seats, he handed them menus and said, “My name is Mansoo. Let me know if I can do anything for you two, okay?”

Hayoung watched Mansoo as he walked away. “He seems like a nice man. It would be difficult to believe that he’s a part of the Shadow Clan.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Namjoo said. She peered down at the menu in her hands, studying it more intensely than she had ever studied her books in the academy. “They don’t have a very large variety.”

“Better to specialize in a few things than to be average in several things.”

“True,” Namjoo agreed. “So what’s the plan?”

Hayoung quickly glanced around her, ensuring that no one was near her or Namjoo. “Just speak casually. You know the drill.”

“Just making sure.” Namjoo lowered the menu and raised her hand to call Mansoo over. When he came, Namjoo asked, “What do you recommend? It’s our first time here, so we aren’t sure what’s the best dish.”

“They’re all the best!” Mansoo exclaimed enthusiastically in a joking manner that reminded Hayoung fondly of her father.

“Then I guess we have no choice but to order all of them!” Hayoung said.

“Oh? Then I guess you’re paying,” Namjoo told Hayoung. Mansoo laughed, and Hayoung found herself sincerely hoping that he wasn’t part of the Shadow Clan.

“Our friend recommended this restaurant to us,” Hayoung told Mansoo. “He talked so highly of it that we just had to try your chicken.”

“Ah, is that so? He must be a regular then.”

Namjoo threw a glance at Hayoung. “Yes, he comes here quite often. You might know him.”

“Maybe I do. What’s his name?”

“Lee Seungri,” Hayoung answered, keeping her eyes cautiously on Mansoo.

She’d been watching for any sign of recognition, and sure enough, Mansoo’s expression went rigid at the mere mention of Seungri’s name. 

“That name doesn’t seem to ring a bell,” Mansoo said rather tightly.

“Really? Seungri often raves about this restaurant,” Namjoo said. “I believe his week can’t be complete without eating here at least once.”

“We appreciate the business,” Mansoo replied suspiciously quickly. “Anyways, the classic chicken is our top seller here. You can’t go wrong with it.”

“That does sound good…,” Namjoo murmured, staring down at the menu. “But so does the soy garlic chicken.”

“You can’t go wrong with that one either,” the old man said. “Why don’t I give you two a few more minutes? I’ll be back to take your order.”

Mansoo was about to walk away, but Hayoung abruptly said, “I’m craving spicy chicken.”

Mansoo stopped in his tracks and slowly turned. “Pardon?”

“I’m craving spicy chicken,” Hayoung repeated. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Something shifted in Mansoo’s expression, and Hayoung knew that she had said the right thing. The old man seemed hesitant at first, but he eventually said, “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Follow me.”

Hayoung and Namjoo shared a glance. Hayoung’s hand twitched with a sudden urge to make sure that her hidden knife was still strapped to the side of her ribcage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Namjoo place a subtle hand on her arm, where a knife was hidden under her sleeve. Despite their apprehensions, they stood and followed Mansoo into the kitchen.

Hayoung’s uneasiness doubled the moment the metal double-doors closed behind them, separating them and the world outside. The kitchen was nowhere near suspicious; it looked normal, with a couple of workers frying chicken and preparing plates. Some of them raised a curious eye, but Mansoo kindly told them that he was taking Hayoung and Namjoo to sample the special spicy chicken. When he told them that, they all returned back to their work as though it was a normal occurance for Mansoo to take people to the kitchen to try some spicy chicken.

Mansoo led them to a door in the back of the kitchen and reached into his pocket to pull out a small key. Hayoung’s nerves spiked, but when Mansoo opened the door, he merely revealed a small office with a desk, bookshelf, and scattered boxes. He shut the door behind them as soon as they had filled the room.

“This is where you keep your spicy chicken?” Namjoo asked. Her hand was hovering over her arm.

“No. Not here.” Without another word, Mansoo pressed his back against the bookshelf and pushed. With an uneasy screeching sound, the bookshelf gave way to a hidden door. With his keys, he unlocked the door and pushed it open to a dark, descending staircase. 

Together, they walked down the dimly lit staircase until they reached a small room with dozens of monitors and blinking lights. Namjoo’s hand dropped from her arm, and she and Hayoung walked deeper into the room, staring at their surroundings with both amazement and confusion. Mansoo walked over to the opposite wall and flicked on the lights, revealing more of the room. Wires, small computer parts, and other miscellaneous items that a chicken restaurant definitely shouldn’t have had were scattered everywhere. 

Namjoo moved closer to the monitors mounted on the wall, and Hayoung saw her entire body tense. When she stepped next to Namjoo and saw what was on the screen, her body also went rigid. All of the monitors showed surveillance of various angles of a small home, both inside and out. Its inhabitants―a fairly young woman and a little girl―were home, and Hayoung watched as they disappeared from one screen and reappeared in the kitchen of another.

“What the hell is this?” Hayoung demanded.

Namjoo placed a hand on Hayoung’s arm. She also looked shaken up, but she calmly said, “Our friend Seungri is away on a mission, and he told us to come to this place. He didn’t tell us why, though. He just told us to tell you that we’re craving spicy chicken and that you’d take care of the rest.”

“Seungri sent you here?” Mansoo questioned.

“Yes, he’s been away on his mission for a while, and he asked us to do this one favor for him. He seemed quite desperate. Could you explain what this is?”

Mansoo looked at the monitors, and Hayoung thought that he looked a bit uncomfortable with what was in front of him. He sat in a chair next to the monitors and explained, “It makes sense why he would seem desperate. He’s probably worried for his family.”

“Family?” Hayoung said in disbelief.

Mansoo regarded Hayoung with a sympathetic eye. “I’m not surprised that he didn’t tell you. He keeps his family hidden from everyone, especially the Shadow Clan. His line of work is dangerous, and because of it, he’s unable to meet his family normally. This restaurant is where he can monitor them, send them messages, or on some rare occasions, meet them.”

“So this woman and child...They’re his wife and daughter?” Hayoung asked.

“Yes,” Mansoo replied. “Seungri probably sent you here to check on them and ensure that they’re okay.”

“How long has he been hiding this?” Namjoo inquired. “We’ve worked with Seungri for quite some time now, and we would have never suspected that he had a family.”

“His daughter is...how old now? Seven? Eight?” Mansoo rubbed the stubble of his beard in thought. “Yes, eight. It has been eight years. He moved his family the moment he found out that his wife was pregnant.”

“Eight years…,” Hayoung repeated to herself under her breath as she stared at the two people on the monitors. “How did you get involved in this? Are you a part of our Clan as well?”

“An old man like me? Of course not. Let’s just say that I have a history in this field and that Seungri pays well.”

“Seungri has that kind of money?” Namjoo scoffed, being the talented actress that she was. “He’s been cheaping out on us this whole time, hasn’t he?”

“Seriously,” Hayoung played along. “I don’t recall him ever picking up the bill whenever we went out to eat.”

Mansoo chuckled. “Well, I don’t know Seungri all that well, but it seems that you two are close to him for him to have trusted you two with this secret.”

“You could say that. Seungri is like our mentor,” Hayoung lied. “He trained us.”

“I see.” Mansoo turned back to the screens. Something about seeing him stare at the dozen monitors of two civilians’ home made Hayoung extremely uncomfortable. She knew that after all of this was over, she would have to do something about this. 

“Well, in any case,” Mansoo said, “his family is still safe and sound. He has nothing to worry about.”

It seemed impossible. How could someone as cold and ruthless as Seungri be the same loving, concerned husband and father who moved his family for the sake of their own safety? How was he capable of such loyal and deep love? And did his family know just how much of a horrible person he was? One look at Namjoo’s wide eyes and Hayoung knew that her companion was as conflicted as she was.

One thing was for certain, though. They had found his weakness. After days of being an impenetrable stone wall during their interrogations, Seungri would finally give in. It bothered Hayoung that they would be using his family―who, as far as she was concerned, was innocent―to break him, but it had to be done.

“Yes,” Hayoung replied, still looking at the woman and girl in the monitors, “He has nothing to worry about.”