Dear Hyejin my darling,

 

 

As soon as the man is out of her hair, Yongsun organizes her subordinates to quickly spot anything they can dig on the client they have the pleasure of being acquainted with.

 

 

Ever since my eyes fell upon yours in that orphanage, it sure feels like I was awarded with the gift from the divine itself. It is a feeling that I have always cherished even until now, even when you were not here.

 

 

A knock on the glass door followed to reveal Wheein. Stacks of documents spread across her arms, in which she spilled onto the table while Yongsun stood up, immediately ransacking the bits she could get her hands on. “What do you get so far, Wheein?”

 

 

“It is her, unnie. It really is Byul-unnie.” Wheein fixed her glasses. She didn’t expect this result either but it confirms Yongsun’s suspicion. 

 

 

As Sigmund Freud would said it, “children are completely egoistic; they feel their needs intensely and strive ruthlessly to satisfy them.” In that sense, you are a child, my darling, a prodigal daughter who has to come back to where you belong.

 

 

The information teetered as Yongsun tried to match all the occurrences since the robbery in the convenience store. The way Byul looked so happy as soon as she came back, the decreasing late-night shifts, and the sudden holiday…

 

 

“Unnie?”

 

 

Jolt out from her thoughts, Yongsun shook her head softly and braced herself into focus. “Wheein-ah, have you found anything about that client?”

 

 

Some say that perfection is carved by the time itself. I have a profound conviction that it is untrue! You are yourself, what should have been mine in the beginning. Watching you under all those lowlifes bent me over. It is as though the ten fingers of a man who knows nothing of music were wandering over the keys of a piano.

 

 

“His full name is Ahn Do.” Wheein flip the documents haphazardly, getting impatient at herself for not being able to spot things quicker. “He used to be a nobody who cooked books for higher-ups of the underworld before climbing into a position of respect from his peers. One thing that could have been said about him is how he always seemed to be "blended right in the background’.”

 

 

“He had amassed quite a fortune and created an organization similar to mafias and yakuzas, but still being spit upon for getting involved in unorthodox ways of gaining recognition.”

 

 

Yongsun stopped the tappings of her own fingers on the table. “When exactly did he gain recognition?”

 

 

“It was not until eight years ago that Ahn Do suddenly put himself in a party that is strictly to be attended exclusively by kingpins and men of power.” Wheein traced the papers and halted at the corner that jutted out. She pulled it out only to reveal a sketch of wilted flower.

 

 

“Rumors say that he attributed his success to the rise of the Yellow Flower. “

 

 

There is simply no need for that oath, my darling. Your life can be much happier if only you resigned yourself to me. You are now in a hell of your own making. If only you know that…

 

 

This is a classic case of chicken-and-egg. She doesn’t know which came first. They have all been assigned to a role they cannot make the head or tails of. But that man bristled her senses for all the wrong reasons.

 

 

“Wheein-ah.” She shuts her eyes; trying to determine which must go at the top list of priorities. “Find out if we can somehow get a contact into that organization. There must have been a mole somewhere.”

 

 

You are the whole reason for my being.

 

--

 

“Harabeoji!”

 

 

Kiyozo strides quickly along the hall with the tapping of the cane getting louder. It was a long stride but Hyejin is able to catch up quickly, thanks to the golden leg that she put on now more frequently, to the point she was able to put herself in front of the craftsman, standing in his way.

 

 

“Where is she now? You have to tell me.” Seeing a frown from the old man she went on whining. “Harabeoji!”

 

 

“Not after I was forced to witness that gal’s buttcrack!”

 

 

It so happened that their "intimate time" was recorded through one of many CCTVs scattered in the forest, and Kiyozo got the shock of his life as soon as his personal butler, after so much reluctance, got him into the misfortune of witnessing creatures performing deeds that could have been done somewhere much more closed off. “Lunatic, both of you! I said three days from now, when you two horndogs are able to keep your hands to yourself!”

 

 

“But…” Hyejin puffed her cheeks, irritated. “I cannot sleep without her beside me! Just for a few hours! I will come back here as soon as I know she is safe!”

 

 

“What a crock of bull.” Kiyozo huffed. “What you two need now is a space to think of how you want to go after this. I sent her somewhere she can put her mind to, and you young lady, that is some homework for you as well. I forbid her to come here until the annual ball of my loyal customers in three days…”

 

 

Kiyozo raised his cane and point it to Hyejin’s nose.

 

 

“At least I can keep my eyes clean for three days!” He rumbled.

 

--

 

Moonbyul shut down her burner phone before plucking out the battery and trashing it away.

 

 

She has been trying to contact Kyung for the past three days now without any response. Either they had been found out or the boys were busy dealing with the aftermath. Hopping to another place quickly came to mind but Kyung once said not to move without instructions, based on a concern that it might put a crack to the whole plan. Plans to wait until this organization, whatever it is, is toppled from grace, effectively getting them out of obscurity.

 

 

The sound of revving engines of flashy motorbikes and dusty surface of the pedestals remind her once again where she is now. After being thrown out of the mansion by the craftsman for getting involved in such a 'scandalous' act (really, she must be out of her mind while doing that sort of thing in an unfinished sunroom!), she wandered for a while before getting contacted by the bosozoku leader and, after listening to her story, offering her a place to sleep in one of the gang’s gathering post. It didn’t take long before Moonbyul demonstrated her talent in engines and before she realized it, she has become one of the team who performed all the maintenance and the first one the members went to for every trouble regarding their bikes. Of course, this also gives her access to try out their bikes, as she will never miss all those nights when they went to their "patrol" and got involved in a cat-and-mouse game with the authorities. Even their "patrol" involved kicking out the hoodlums who disrupt the streets at night and smashing the child molesters in the head with their pink bats. Moonbyul asked before on why they didn’t reveal all of these "community services", but the leader thought of it as nothing but a hassle, and they prefer to keep their former image in mind. Which for Moonbyul is a silly reasoning considering the possibility of them working together to keep the streets safe.

 

 

Pulling out the sheets of journals, she sat herself on top of a bike before assigning her attention to the content and failing miserably. She tossed the papers aside, rubbing her eyes with the back of her palm in an attempt to chase away the remnants of sleepless nights.

 

 

Really, what’s the point of studying now? This is a holiday after all.

 

 

Moonbyul somehow knew the old man’s intention of giving her a chance to sort herself out, since as he called them out before as "attached to the hip". There are instructions to get herself back to the mansion after three days.

 

 

Three days left before her meeting with Hyejin.

 

 

If every memory of Hyejin was all about fondness and fascination to her antics, now it is all about embarrassing needs. The fact that the tanned woman keeps forgetting personal space every time they were together did not make things easier. Not only would Hyejin never let her go for every moment she captured her in her clutches, she cannot seem to let go either.

 

 

The soft touches and the moments Hyejin surprised her that night as she put her under and dipped her fingers until she burst into an embarrassing amount of suppressed urges… The mere thought of it flared up again as Moonbyul looked at her lower part that had become clenched, a grimace decorating her face.

 

 

Maybe the old man did exactly the right thing this time around.

 

 

“Byul-san?”

 

 

Quickly dismissing all unnecessary thoughts, Moonbyul looked up to find the face of a girl with a wide, pretty set of eyes she had already recognized since the raiding night. Miyawaki Sakura, the girl she saved from the accident with the burning bike and aided her in the cruise, is now putting out a can of soda in front of Moonbyul, in which the latter raises her brow.

 

 

“You must be thirsty.”

 

 

Moonbyul almost forgot that she had just fixed ten bikes this afternoon. She put out her hand and received the can gratefully. Clicking it open with her thumb, she proceeds to chug out the entire content before noticing the other girl’s fixed stare on her.

 

 

“Is there anything you want to say, Miyawaki-san?”

 

 

The biker girl became flustered as she waved her hands. “You can just call me Sakura…” Moonbyul smiled at that, a smile that flaunted out without noticing the red shades upon the girl’s face. “You can just call me Byul, then.” She pointed out to her right side. “Why don’t you sit here? Kumamoto-san’s bike is enough for three.”

 

 

As Sakura sat next to her, another awkward silence ensued.

 

 

“Um…”

 

 

“Byul-san,” Strengthening her resolve, Sakura looks at her without dropping off the honorific. “If… you have time… before you leave… maybe we can have a short trip…” Another bout of panic got her upon witnessing Moonbyul’s clueless smile. She struggled her way through the broken Korean speeches. “If! Just if, because I know you’re busy, and…”

 

 

The rejection was already at the tip of her tongue before a thundering shout echoed from the other side. As both women scoured the source of the call, a lone figure stood patiently, watching from a distance.

 

 

Moonbyul once wondered how it’s going to be like to live like this: having trips for fun, getting camaraderie between sworn brothers and sisters, living a life on the run.

 

 

The feeling of being needed and validated is seldom a bad thing to be felt.

 

--

 

The figure starts to move as he waits in a solitary of his own making, the clock ticking signifying his impatience. It turns out there was no need to wait any longer as his guest finally made a presence.

 

 

The shadow revealed a man, seemingly middle aged, dressed in shabby attire, wrinkles near his eyes and sunken eyebags further showing how life has beaten him up immensely. The low sound startled him. “So you’re her dad?”

 

 

He nodded helplessly, as if he was forced into this meeting that he had agreed to voluntarily. As in voluntarily transported to Japan for this plan. As in voluntarily agreeing to any conditions thrown to his face.

 

 

“A sad excuse of a man with a thief of a daughter. How fitting.” He exclaimed. “Now, your daughter is messing with the wrong person. I have to remind you of our deal in the beginning, It remains unchanged.”

 

 

The haggard man took a phone that had been handed out to him.

 

 

“The amount of money you will get from this should be enough to support you for a lifetime.”

 

 

It was supposed to be killing two birds with one stone. Saving his daughter and getting away with the money. Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

 

 

It is a foolproof plan worth breaking a heart or two.

 

--

 

It was a big ball in a secluded mansion in the mountain.

 

 

Moonbyul found herself looking at the dazzling chandelier, sitting at the side, observing all the guests that she suspected to be the craftsman’s loyal customers. They did not for once fit the stereotypes of yakuzas or gangsters of the movies; they were talking between themselves in lower voices. If they notice Moonbyul they most certainly didn’t give a rat’s . Ignoring an itch at one point between her neck and shoulder, she held on to a need to the collar of her white shirt, doubling with a black blazer that made the stuffy feeling become more ap