Yunho cleared his throat, though from what I heard, he did a faulty job of concealing his own displacement. It was his turn to defect his role. "I don't have a gun," he told Siwon, revealing his free hands. "I'm not this guy, you know that. I'm not the kind of guy to do whatever is necessary, come on, Siwon. I don't want to be that guy tonight. I don't want to be that guy, ever." And he wasn't. "So work with me, will you?" 

I reveled and recoiled in this charade of convincing Siwon of our merciful roles. But on this night, we were doling out leverage and pretending not to be wolves that understood the dripping of blood and how to spare it. 

Siwon interjected, weak in his own defense, "What is it you want to hear? Work with you on what? You mean to tell me that all of this wasn't personal?" He threw his hands up as he looked over at me. 

"Personal?" Yunho overruled his pitiful rebuttal. He snapped his fingers to ward Siwon's attention off of me. "She can't help you. I ask the questions." 

There was no reason or room for Siwon not to cooperate immediately. But he still tried. "What are you, trying to make a fool out of me?" 

"Do you know how hard this is to do?" There was a torturous pause. "I could have just turned this over to any other agent, but I saved you from getting a bullet in your brain." There was a sickening dispense in his voice. "So all this business of it being personal, that's not lost on me, okay?" His voice echoed as he pointed an incriminating finger towards the wall as if Siwon was in the tapestry himself. "That's not lost on me." 

In a slow spiral, we were steadily losing control and Siwon was feebly winning. "For heaven's sake, who do you think I am?" That was the question that had haunted me for the past two days, and I was certain tormented Yunho. Of what information he did tell me, I was unsure of as a whole, but it did not take away any ounce of weight the question carried, nor the ill-advised questioning and suffering on our part. "I can just get up and leave." But he didn't move. 

Yunho looked at him. "But you're not going to." 

Siwon wrung his hands together as he sat there, still. 

Yunho regained most of his composure. "Tell me everything." 

There was silence, a long pause. No denial or affirmation, no nod of compliance or twitch of fear. 

Siwon looked off, towards the city lights outside, as if he was envisioning something in his head. "I'm tired." 

"Of keeping this up? You must be." 

"You're right, you're not that kind of guy. I know you. This doesn't suit you at all. How many years have we been working alongside each other? I know what kind of guy you are, and you know who I am." 

"Apparently not," Yunho replied. 

"Do you want us to beg?" I said to Siwon, once again breaking protocol. My tears fell freely onto the ground now. I wiped the remnants of them with one of my hands as I rose. "I thought it was easy to tell good men apart in this kind of work." I walked towards him, bypassing Yunho. "It's Siwon," I managed to say, finally succumbing. I took the plastic cuff from Yunho's hands and pressed it firmly. Inches from our traitor, one look in his eyes, and I could swear, that some sort of confession was already made. 

Siwon was rife with confusion, even perhaps with allowing himself to be brought to this very moment. 

The plastic-y rip of the band as it slid up the notches resounded the decision none of us could make. "I'm doing Yunho a favor," I said, "sparing him the hardest part." One big tug on the band and I was satisfied enough. 

"Don't do this." 

"You never denied you weren't." I replied. I looked at Yunho, and didn't need a nod of approval. Instead, I shot him another world-weary question with my eyes—Is this finally over? 

There was a rap at the door. 

We all fell to silence as our necks whipped over at it. Yunho shot his eyes at me knowingly. We had only planned for it to be the two of us, for no one else would give him the time of day without a bullet in his head in place for a pardon. It left only one option: we both looked at Siwon. His eyes darted between the two of us. He upturned his hand towards me in the slightest action, and I had almost missed it. The familiar sign compelled me to toss our only gun into his hands, but I was caught between his and Yunho's glare. "Cut me free," he said to me. 

I somewhat shook my head. There was another rap. The pressure was tremendous.