Warning(s): cursing, some blood and violence
Length: 10.0k words

In times of chaos and unsurety, some people flounder while others flourish. The same goes for cities, governments, institutions, and even entire cultures.

Dubai of the United Arab Emirates is a shining example of how a city can prosper even while the world faces disarray. As the world struggled with the Famine of 2025, Dubai grew in size and population thanks to “next-generation” technological advancements in preserving a food supply. Unfortunately, not every city was like Dubai: equipped with the proper equipment and leadership to handle a worldwide famine. Some cities floundered—some cities like Manila in the Philippines.

In 2060, Manila is no longer the once bustling metropolitan hub of the decades prior to the Famine of 2025. The multistory apartment buildings are still there and so are the roadside vendors, but there are noticeably less inhabitants throughout the city. Even Baekhyun, who has never set foot onto Philippine soil knows that something is missing when he visits Manila for the end-of-April street race. He expects loud sounds, city noises like cars honking and people yelling, but he gets none of those things upon arrival. What he does he get are small groups of people roaming the streets, occasional flows of traffic from rickety cars and motorcycles, and curious glances from everyone he walks past.

“What the hell happened here?” Baekhyun asks Yonny while they’re walking down what Yonny calls a palengke—an outdoor wet market where the vendors supposedly sell fruits and vegetables amongst other things. However, there are only a few dirty stalls open, and instead of having large amounts of product for customers to buy, most vendors are willing to sell at most a dozen of anything. “I thought you said this was a market,” Baekhyun comments, “but no one’s selling.”

“They’re selling what they can,” Yonny answers plainly. He flexes his fingers under his leather gloves and points to one vendor selling some mangoes. “This is basically gold to us here.”

“Gusto mo ba?” the woman standing by the mangoes asks Yonny. “Buying?”

“Hindi po, tumitingin lang kami,” Yonny replies with a slight shake of his head and a smile. Baekhyun doesn’t understand Tagalog, so he simply follows Yonny’s lead and smiles at the woman too.

“What’d you say?” Baekhyun asks Yonny as they’re walking away.

“She was asking if we wanted to buy some,” Yonny explains, “and I told her that we didn’t. We’re just looking around.”

“Speaking of looking around,” Baekhyun murmurs, “why’s everyone looking at us?” He glances around at the cross-armed, hard-faced vendors who all seem to be watching his and Yonny’s every move. “Did we do something offensive?”

“They’re looking because we’re paler than them.” Yonny rolls up a part of his white long-sleeved shirt to reveal his forearm. Though his arm is actually a soft brown color, there is still a lot of contrast to his arm and the arms of some of the darker-skinned locals that they walk past. “It’s 2060 and people are still going hungry here, but you also still get treated better if you’re whiter.”

“That’s ed up,” Baekhyun remarks without another thought.

“It is ed up,” Yonny agrees. He rolls his sleeve back down and shakes his head disapprovingly. “And that’s why I moved the out of here as soon as I could.”

Baekhyun vaguely recalls Yonny telling him about his past. Since Yonny is in the business of fixing “people” problems, Baekhyun doesn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was born in Manila to a Korean father and a Filipino mother.

The two of them continue walking until they reach another “vendor” selling cigarettes at the very edge of the outdoor market underneath a rainbow-colored umbrella. In truth, the vendor is actually one of Yonny’s partners—his righthand man Chen—and he’s sitting on a stool with his feet propped up on a small table with a few unopened boxes of cigarettes. When he sees Baekhyun and Yonny and approach, he stands up and runs a hand through the slight waves in his hair. For a moment, his temple scar is visible, but his dark hair quickly covers it again when a gale of wind blows a loose tress over it.

“Welcome to Manila,” Chen says like he’s from away here. “How’s it so far, Lux? You get to eat some sinigang yet?”

“He can’t be eating soup a few hours before his race,” Yonny answers for Baekhyun. “You settled the agreement?” he asks Chen. “And got the paperwork done?”

“Yes, I did, boss.” Chen takes out a folded piece of paper from out of the pockets of his black slacks. Like Yonny, he’s wearing their signature fixer outfit: black leather gloves and a crisp white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants. A simple glance at either Chen or Yonny will tell most people that they’re businessmen, but Baekhyun knows better; white shirts are easy to bleach to get rid of bloodstains.

“Thanks,” Yonny says, taking the piece of paper from Chen. It’s most likely some sort of messed up contract to off a person, and Baekhyun isn’t about to question it until Yonny turns to him with pursed lips.

“What?” Baekhyun inquires. He raises his brows at Yonny and then at Chen who is crossing his arms.

“We can’t protect you anymore,” Yonny states evenly. He folds the piece of paper and shoves it in his pocket. “You know how it is. It’s just business. Prices go up, and things change.”

Things change? Baekhyun’s mouth goes dry at the implications. Every six months, he pays Yonny a lot of ing money—an insane amount, actually—to make sure that low-tier assassins and other fixers don’t just come after him whenever they want. It’s been this way for a few years now, and nothing has changed even while Baekhyun has gotten involved with more and more unsavory figures. The fact that Yonny suddenly can’t protect him is the archetype of red flags.

“What the do you mean?” Baekhyun asks, trying to keep his voice low. “I pay you good money—”

“It’s just business,” Yonny cuts him off. “It’s not personal, okay? You do pay a lot—or you did—but other people pay more.”

“Pay more for what?” Baekhyun continues to press. “Did someone put a contract on me?”

“Look, I told you, it’s just business—”

“You already said that,” Baekhyun snaps. His outburst causes Chen to raise his brows, but Yonny remains neutral. “Don’t talk to me like I’m another client. Talk to me like a friend,” Baekhyun demands in a softer tone. “Talk to me like you do when you ramble on about that Mercedes AMG you want so bad.”

Yonny stares blankly at Baekhyun for a moment. His round eyes appear to be completely devoid of emotion, but Baekhyun knows that Yonny—unlike the hot-headed Chen—has empathy. While both have guiltlessly caused dozens of people to disappear suddenly, Yonny is the one who seems to understand how consequential his actions are. He leans towards Baekhyun, grabbing his arm and pulling him further underneath the umbrella. 

“There’s no contract to kill you,” Yonny whispers to Baekhyun, “but we’re getting paid a lot more not to protect you anymore.”

What?

“Who is it?” Baekhyun instantly wants to know. “Is it Junmyeon? Did he put you up to this?”

Yonny doesn’t say a thing, but he doesn’t need to; Baekhyun already knows. Who else can it be other than Kim Junmyeon?

“You should go and get ready for your race,” Yonny says to Baekhyun, his voice once again steady. “I heard Loey and Sehun’s coming. They’re tough competitors.”

“They’re tough, but they’re not on my level.” Baekhyun places his hands in his pockets and gives Yonny one final nod. Yonny won’t tell him any more information, and Yonny can no longer give him any more help. “See you around, then.”

With that, Baekhyun turns towards the direction where he and Yonny came from to catch a taxi back to his hotel. Every step pains him because not only does he feel like he lost a friend in Yonny, Baekhyun feels like he lost a part of his peace of mind. Truly, nothing is sacred when it comes to mobsters and people too rich for their own good. Baekhyun worries about Ange too (in fact, he worries a lot), but he can’t give himself time to worry when he was a race to get to.

- - - - -

It all begins downtown—right in the middle of two main roads. Immediately, Baekhyun hates the location because there are too many bystanders and too many obstacles. Since the race isn’t protected by a closed circuit that ensures that people can’t just drive in the racers’ paths, some people have set up chairs precariously close to the street to watch. While there isn’t a massive crowd to watch either, there’s literal trash on the road that cats and dogs rummage through—creating non-human obstacles. On top of it, there are electricity poles everywhere that are, again, way too close to the street for comfort. Accidently hitting one promises surefire disaster.

Baekhyun shakes his head in disbelief as he stares outside of the parking structure where racers are preparing. Though he doesn’t speak fluent German, he knows enough to know that the German team present for tonight’s race are unhappy about the location as well since they seem to sneer at everything. The same goes for nearly team present as well—even Baekhyun’s. Tonight, Baekhyun’s “team” is composed only of Mark, Taeyong, and Seulgi, but they’re chattering about how bad Manila is for racing cars.

“They want someone to die,” Taeyong confides to Mark as they wipe the windshields of Baekhyun’s Supra. “I mean, someone is going to die or at least get hit and then die.”

“Loey’s team is betting on that,” Seulgi chirps. “They’re wagering a couple thousand dollars that a dog gets hit, and someone’s windshield gets covered in blood.”

“Easiest bet ever,” Taeyong adds. “There’s so many of them just out on the street. I’d be surprised if a dog doesn’t get hit.”

“Speaking of bets—” Baekhyun’s voice commands the attention of both Seulgi and Taeyong (with the exception of Mark who still hasn’t spoken to him), and the two of them turn to look him in the eye. “Can you guys check up on how ours are doing?”

 “Sure, let’s go.” Taeyong motions to both Mark and Seulgi to follow him.

Before Mark can walk off, however, Baekhyun calls for the redhead. “Mark,” he says. “I need to talk to you.”

As much as Baekhyun wants to discuss the whole Ange situation, it’s clear that Mark unfortunately doesn’t hold the same reservations. He stops in his tracks when Baekhyun calls for him, looks at the ground for a good three seconds, and turns around so slowly that Baekhyun sighs, too impatient to wait any longer.

“What is it boss?” Mark asks quietly. He goes back to wiping the already clean windshield of Baekhyun’s car. “Do you need anything else?”

“You’re pissed about Ange, I know,” Baekhyun says without hesitation. There isn’t even any awkwardness—at least not on his part—because Baekhyun is so over it. He needs Mark to focus and stop acting like a fool when there’s bigger things than having a broken heart. “Tell me what I need to,” Baekhyun demands, “so I can fix it, and we can get back to normal. What do you want? Do you want me to buy you a car? More money?” When Baekhyun’s suggestions fail to sway Mark in a way, he sighs and crosses his arms. “Mark, I’m sorry, okay? What do you want me to say?”

Mark only shakes his head in response. “It’s okay, boss.”

“Then why are you acting like it’s not?” Baekhyun asks, trying to soften his tone. The race begins in less than hour, and both of them don’t have time to have heart-to-heart talks about something that can’t be helped. “You’ve been moping around since Dubai.”

“It’s nothing, boss…”

“Tell me everything, goddammit, or I’ll fire you,” Baekhyun snaps. He never wanted to use the unemployment card on Mark, but Mark’s position as one of Baekhyun’s assistants is one of his greatest assets—so it’s effective. Mark’s eyes widen, and he gains the courage to look at Baekhyun in the eye.

“N-No, no, no, boss,” Mark is characteristically stammering again, “I swear, like on my life, that it’s nothing. I-I-I just—” Mark takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. At this point, his red hair dye is starting to fade, showing his black roots. “I got ed up, okay?”

“You mean got drunk?”

“Why do you say it like that?” Mark sighs. “Yeah, I got drunk at a club a few weeks ago because it , boss.” He throws down the cloth that he had been using to clean Baekhyun’s car. “I-I-I really liked Ange, and I always wanted what you had. You have these nice cars, people who respect you, and-and I-I-I don’t have any of that. And it .”

Baekhyun wants to tell Mark that there’s nothing better about being Lux—that, in fact, it’s much worse to be Lux than anyone else in the world—but he can’t do that now. As much as Baekhyun feels sorry for himself from time to time, he has to admit that being in Mark’s shoes isn’t any better either. Unrequited love, or whatever it is the youth call it these days, is bad. Point, blank, period, it’s bad. There may be worse things, but it’s still bad. And it does . It a lot. While Baekhyun can’t do anything to make it feel better for Mark, the least he can do is listen to the poor boy.

“I was really mad too,” Mark adds quietly. “I thought about smashing windows and getting into fights because I-I-I was just so mad that there was nothing I could do.” Mark curls his hands into fists. “And-And then I met this guy who wanted me to turn my back on you.”

Junmyeon. Without Mark even getting into too much detail, Baekhyun already knows. Junmyeon definitely tried to bribe Mark into breaking ties with him. It’s just too obvious. Who else would do it?

“He said he’d pay me a lot of money if I quit working for you,” Mark goes on, “and I almost wanted to do it, boss.” Mark’s lip quivers slightly. “I just felt so mad that I-I-I couldn’t even think, and I-I wanted to, b-but—”

“It’s okay, Mark.”

“No, but listen—”

“It’s okay, Mark,” Baekhyun stresses. He walks closer to Mark and places a hand on his shoulder. They stare at one another with Mark looking like he wants to cry and with Baekhyun realizing how stupid he has been for not treating Mark better. “I don’t blame you,” Baekhyun confesses. “I treat you like a lot. I would have turned my back on myself a long time ago. I’m surprised that you stuck around for so long.”

“But boss—”

“Mark, what?” Baekhyun sighs. “I’m trying to tell that you that it’s okay.”

“And boss, I’m trying to tell you that something bad’s gonna happen.”

Though the weather is relatively warm in Manila, Baekhyun feels a shiver tingle down his spine. “What do you mean something bad?” he asks quietly. “What’re you talking about?”

“The-the guy,” Mark sputters out. He looks around for a moment and leans closer to Baekhyun as if to be discrete. “He said that something bad would happen if I didn’t join him. I-I-I didn’t want to believe him, b-but boss, you should have seen the guy. He had, like, a hundred security guards, and—”

Baekhyun drops his hand from Mark’s shoulder. Junmyeon. It’s definitely Junmyeon.

“What’d the guy look like?” Baekhyun swallows his dry spit in an attempt to look orderly. “And what else did he say?”

“I-I was really drunk, and-and I don’t remember much, but, uh, he had, like, dark hair, and he was wearing a white suit—and he had this pin. It was of a dragon.” Mark’s vague description is incriminating enough. There’s no one else who loves to wear white suits as much as Junmyeon, and there’s only a few people that proudly display Junmyeon’s family seal. A dragon pin or anything marked with a dragon is enough for Baekhyun. “I-I-I didn’t know what to do, boss,” Mark stammers. “I didn’t want anything bad to happen, but I also c-couldn’t quit this job, and-and—”

“Listen,” Baekhyun interrupts. “You did the right thing. Trust me.” Baekhyun steps back to give themselves both space and straightens his outfit. “I’m gonna get some air, okay? Look over my car.”

“S-Sure thing, boss.”

Baekhyun is just about to walk away, but a familiar feeling tugs at him—dread. Something awful will happen, and that’s not a conjecture; it’s fact. First, Baekhyun had to find out that Yonny could no longer offer his protection, and of course, it has to be Junmyeon behind that. Second, Junmyeon tried to bribe Mark into betraying him. Knowing Junmyeon, it wouldn’t just end there either. There will be more to come, and Baekhyun has known this for a while; he just thought his own death would be quicker, more painless, but Junmyeon likes the long game.

“Hey, Mark?” Baekhyun nudges his chin upward. “When we get back, I’ll let you drive my Audi.”

“Huh?” Mark looks at Baekhyun like he’s been shot and bleeding out—which, in a twisted way, he is.

“Don’t get too excited,” Baekhyun mutters, detesting that look of disbelief on Mark’s face. Mark, having been a fan of the elusive Lux, has a habit of making Baekhyun uncomfortable when he acts like a fanboy, and he’s doing that starstruck thing again. “You’re gonna need to wash your hands before I let you touch that car.”

Mark doesn’t immediately close his mouth, leaving Baekhyun to sigh, shaking his head as he walks up a flight of stairs towards the roof for some fresh air. He only gets to take a few steps when he catches sight of the duo.

“Hey, Lux! C’mere!”

And they’ve caught sight of him too.

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and gives Loey and Sehun an affirmative nod. “Loey,” he murmurs in acknowledgement as he walks to them.

As usual of Loey, his platinum-blond hair is perfectly coiffed, he’s wearing his favorite blood-orange suit, and he has one of the girls from the German team under his arm. His neck and wrist drip with rows of shining jewelry—a stark contrast of the state of tonight’s race location. Though it hasn’t been long since Baekhyun last saw him, Loey’s once-perfect face is now marred with a scar that runs from under his eye and stretches towards his ear in a diagonal line. The wound that has made the scar doesn’t seem to be fully healed yet either; it’s a bright pink shade with the skin raised slightly.

Standing by Loey’s righthand side is Sehun. While Sehun doesn’t sport white hair like Loey, his suit is a shocking cyan color that sticks out all the same. Like Loey, he takes pride in owning shiny things because his neck and wrist are more diamond than flesh.

“Hey, Sehun,” Baekhyun says, nodding his head.

“You’re not gonna say hi to Alina?” Loey teases. He glances at the girl under his arm, forcing Baekhyun to look at her—and he recognizes her from a prior encounter some months ago. She’s wearing the checkered skirt that’s characteristic of the other girls from her team.

“A-lee-na,” Baekhyun annunciates carefully. His pronunciation (whether it’s perfect or imperfect, he can’t remember because he has only gotten to talk to her twice at some club in Seoul) causes her to break into a grin. She tucks a loose tress of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear and laughs. “Guten tag,” Baekhyun says in awful German, and her blue eyes almost disappear while her pale cheeks turn rosy from how hard she giggles.

“Nice pronunciation,” Alina remarks with an accent. She shakes her head before disconnecting herself from Loey’s grasp. “I’ll see you later,” she tells him. “Bye Loey. Bye Sehun.” She slightly pulls her hitching skirt downward and smiles at Baekhyun. “You have my number,” she says as she lets her eyes scan over his figure. “Call it.”

Alina walks away, leaving Baekhyun alone with Loey and Sehun who both grin at him.

“You should join us,” Loey proposes. “You know, after the race. Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party.” Loey raises his brows suggestively. “What do you say, Lux?”

“I’m not gay,” Baekhyun rebuffs the offer, and Sehun snickers loudly.

“It didn’t seem that way with Kai,” Sehun points out. “Is that what you said before each time you railed him?”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at Sehun. Lying to the duo is impossible because they’re liars themselves. “ off,” Baekhyun snaps. “What the do you guys even want?”

“Changing the subject seems kinda guilty,” Sehun says with a nonchalant shrug, “but we all knew it anyways. I saw Kai come out that bathroom in the club walking all weird once, and I don’t think it was a coincidence that you walked out right after.” Sehun elbows Loey on the side, and the pair laugh amongst themselves as Baekhyun tries not to lose his temper.

“It’s okay,” Loey mockingly assures Baekhyun. “You’re still welcome to hit us up just in case the girls get boring. And speaking of girls,” Loey tilts his head to the side, “what happened to your girl? The little Angel?”

“She’s not here,” Baekhyun answers simply.

“Why? You don’t want her to see you win?” Loey crosses his arms and wipes the grin off his face to replace it with a scowl. “It’s ty here,” he spits. “Roads . I’m betting half of us crash into something, and you win by default.”

“You have that much faith in yourself, huh?” Baekhyun shakes his head. “Winners don’t win when they think like that.”

“And that’s fine,” Loey counters. A smirk slowly creeps up onto his lips. “Because you wanna know a cool fact?” Before Baekhyun can tell him to shut up, he’s already talking. “All cars have a blind spot,” Loey says. “No matter how expensive they are—BMW, Lamborghini, Ferrari, even your Supra—they all have blind spots. Trucks, vans, station wagons. No matter how good, they still have a weakness. They’re still vulnerable somehow.” Loey looks down at Baekhyun with that threatening smirk. “The same goes for people,” Loey mutters. “People have blind spots too. Me.” Loey points to himself. “Sehun.” He elbows Sehun. “And you.” He points to Baekhyun. “Yeah, even you. You’re gonna lose one of these days, Lux, and you won’t even see it coming.”

“It’s not if,” Sehun adds, “but when you lose.”

“Is this a threat?” Baekhyun retorts. Loey’s words have pierced him right in the soul, but he can’t know that. “Because it’s not working.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Loey uncrosses his arms and places his hands into his pockets. “A threat.” He shrugs. “A warning. A premonition. A fact.” Loey abruptly breaks into a wide smile. “Good luck tonight, Lux.”

Baekhyun doesn’t stick around for too long after that. He’s quick to go back downstairs to reconvene with Mark, Taeyong, and Seulgi just before the race starts. Time moves differently in those minutes because there’s a storm churning in Baekhyun’s stomach that makes him daze off into the distance. Loey’s words ring out to him like a banshee yelling.

People have blind spots too.

Even as Baekhyun is waiting for the flag girl to arrive, even when he has one gripped around his steering wheel, even when he’s on the starting line of the race, he thinks about it.

“Zeen!” one of the spectators is calling out. “Zeen!”

A w