Seoul

5 months earlier

The sounds of laughter and social interaction almost drown out the string quartet playing in the corner, who are swinging their bows back and forth on the strings harder than what is probably necessary in order to compete with the human noise. Everyone in the room−which is the only presumable term that can be used to name the large space enclosed by four walls; the next closest term is 'stadium'−is dressed in evening finery; the preferred colour appears to be black, with the prevalence of men in tuxedos.

Tonight is the night of the Underground Ball, an event that one would think should be held at a more discreet location and away from the public eye− for this is the gathering of Seoul's underground crime lords, thieves, spies and assassins.

Only the most sophisticated are here, of course. The ones who are disguised in public as CEOs and figureheads of successful companies, which are nothing more than a guise for the criminal activity that unfolds under the rooves of their buildings.

One such man, known to everyone in the room as T.O.P, is present. His hair is a garish blue colour, made even more glaringly visible by the unforgivingly bright lighting. It seems that every time he turns his head, five more heads turn, eyes immediately latching onto the patch of hair on his head.

No one makes a comment on it, though, fearing the aftermath of insulting the king of the thieving industry. It is the common knowledge of his status and reluctant fear that deflects the unsaid insults and remarks, rather than T.O.P's charismatic glare.

The man in question is conversing with a known and established drugs smuggler, by the name of Kwon Jiyong, one of the hosts of tonight's event.

Their conversation eventually draws away from business and onto other matters.

"I see you do not have your first apprentice beside you," Jiyong says. "Max, isn't it?"

"Ah, yes," T.O.P replies. Anyone who knows him well (which is no one) would be able to tell by the slack set of his shoulders that he doesn't care much to discuss his apprentice, who is indeed absent and goes by the name of Max. "I have recently given him a few weeks leave."

"I'd say that was a rather silly decision for you to make."

T.O.P almost splutters on his drink. Almost. His shoulders stiffen immediately. "I beg your pardon?"

"It would be beneficial for both you and the company if you brought him to these gatherings instead of sending him on vacation," Jiyong continues, unfazed.

"That is my decision to make."

 He doesn't know why Jiyong is saying such a thing. Max may have been his first apprentice, but their relationship is hardly anything higher than one between a servant and his master. Why would he ever consider bringing Max to an event like this?

"I know that," Jiyong says easily, a smile slipping past his lips for a quick second.

At first, T.O.P thinks that he has evaded further discussion of matters relating to Max, but then Jiyong soldiers on before he has a chance to steer the conversation away.

"But really, though, Seunghyun." Jiyong is the only one who dares to call T.O.P by his birth name, apart from T.O.P's own mother, who is too ill and old to remember it, anyway. "You should consider taking your apprentice along to these balls. I imagine he'll be your successor one day, no?"

T.O.P is taken aback, which happens very rarely. "Says who?"

Jiyong leans in with a conspiratorial smirk and cancels out the gesture by sweeping his arm across the whole room. "Everyone."

"Everyone?"

Jiyong rolls his eyes. "Are you deaf or do you just choose to ignore what people are obviously saying? If you pricked your ears up a little, you'd hear everything they say. You'll practically be able to feel their impatience. They want Max."

T.O.P feels absurdly like he's the opening act for a world famous band. They want Max. His jaw clenches. "How do they even know about him?"

"Word spreads fast around here." Jiyong gives a shrug. "Besides, you didn't exactly make it a secret. You couldn't, and still can't, otherwise you wouldn't have clients. And those clients have been talking."

T.O.P swears under his breath. Jiyong is still talking. If it wasn't Jiyong, T.O.P thinks he would have strangled the man a long time ago.

"I believe," Jiyong says, using the tone of a well rehearsed