"Oh my God."

Max thinks of all the shocking things he has ever seen in his life. He thinks of all the training he underwent to prepare himself for anything and everything, and of all the occasions where he had to watch T.O.P exercise his power over those who did not comply to his rule.

But nothing could ever have prepared him for what he sees now.

Jaejoong is taped to the wall, crudely torn pieces of red duct tape pinning him there. The strips of tape are secured over his chest and outstretched arms, stomach, knees and feet, pressing him suffocatingly close to the wall.

But that's not what shocks Max.

Jaejoong has been stripped of his clothes except for his pants, exposing all the slashes along his arms and torso. The white of one of his ribs pokes out from beneath a layer of torn flesh and a cut runs from his bloodied hairline to the corner of his jawbone. Blood still pours out of some of the wounds, streaking tracks of red down Jaejoong's pale, pale skin. His head lolls onto his shoulder, which is taped to the wall.

As Max nears his friend, he sees that Jaejoong's throat has been slit.

Dead.

Of course he is. There's blood everywhere− on the floor, on the white walls, even on the window.

Jaejoong must have put up a good fight.

But with who?

Max unconsciously takes a few steps backwards and his foot slides on something slippery. He looks down, and his stomach heaves. Under his foot is a pale pink organ, the end roughly severed and dark red.

A tongue.

And judging from the blood covering Jaejoong's chin and lips, Max knows whose it is.

He steps quickly off of it and sinks into a chair at the dining room table, one of the few things in the room not covered in blood. 

Max feels a surge of rage and repulse. He wants to know who has done this to his friend. There are no words for the way Jaejoong was killed− careless mutilation.

And deep down, he has a sick feeling that it's his fault that Jaejoong is now dead. Because Jaejoong had done nothing wrong; if he had committed a crime against somebody in Korea, he would have died a long time ago, and not in Paris.

Yes, Max thinks, it's my fault.

I shouldn't have let him out of my sight.

He wishes he could get Jaejoong off the wall and take him back to Korea for a proper burial. But Max knows that won't be possible. He has a job to finish, and he's sure now that more than one person is after him. Transporting a dead body would be hard enough without people pursuing him.

A thousand words, memories and images− all involving the past in which Max and Jaejoong had lived in− fill Max's mind and enrage him even further.

If he can't take Jaejoong with him, then he'll do the next best thing and avenge his friend's death.

I will find whoever did this to you, and I'll kill them, Max swears. I'll watch them die and make sure their death is just as painful as yours was. You didn't deserve this.

As much as it pains Max to turn away, he knows he has no choice. It takes all of his will not to cast Jaejoong's dead body another glance before walking out of the door.

***

Max is exhausted− both physically and emotionally drained− by the time he gets back to his room. He doesn't know what to do, or even where to start.

So he writes a list in his mind of everything he knows so far− just as he'd been trained to do, by the very man who has plotted to kill him.  

That's the first thing, he thinks. T.O.P wants him dead. And he is somehow in cahoots with Gyuri