(Jiyong’s POV)

One hour passed and I was still awake, staring at my ceiling. The feeling of numbness quickly spread through my arm as Seungri’s weight pressed on it. My mind was jumbled, trying to process what just happened. I didn’t understand what possessed me to shove Seungri to the wall and take him. The image of him bending over the kitchen stove, messing around in the kitchen touched something within me. It gave me warmth. It was as though he genuinely cared for me.

I turned my head to look at Seungri’s peaceful face. A wave of unfamiliar emotions washed over me as my gaze travelled all over him. Why did he succumb to my moves so quickly? Was he that desperate? Or maybe, just maybe, he liked-

I shook my head, erasing that thought. I’d rather live in denial than to carry the burden of a person’s emotions.

Emotions were powerful, and as the Director repeatedly said, utterly useless in reality. Quick wits save your life, not love. I nodded to myself, reminding myself that the Director was right. Ever since I was young, even before I started training, I was taught to be cold, cunning and cruel. The warmth in my heart slowly disappeared as I remembered the relentless training I went through. The blood and sweat I shed to get this far. To throw that away for.. Love?

A slow smirk crept up my face as I felt the all too familiar icy void fill my heart. I tugged my arm from underneath Seungri and sat up, leaning back against a pile of pillows. I felt a slight burden being lifted from my shoulders as I cruelly sorted out my emotions like I was a robot. This was the only way to survive. Love was nothing compared to the demented world out there. Nothing.

I was about to wake Seungri up and kick him out when I heard a gust of air enter from the main door. The countless years of training were thrown out of the window as I jumped out of bed, panicking. I scrambled around the room, pulling on any decent article of clothing I could find. I shot a quick glance at Seungri ensuring that he was still asleep and tiptoed out of the room.

“Jiyong ah!” The familiar voice gave me a small sigh of relief. I was about to greet him when I suddenly remembered what just happened an hour ago. Even though I have been through more than a handful similar situations during assignments, this was Youngbae. He could sense everything.

“Don’t you ever knock?” I said, attempting to give a grumpy look at his sudden arrival.

Youngbae was about to answer when he paused and sniffed the air. Oh god no. He glanced around that living room before glaring at me with scrutinizing eyes.  I could practically see the word ‘SUSPICIOUS’ printed on his forehead.

“What have you been up to Ji?”

I swear he was a robot.

“What do you mean?” As soon as those words left my mouth, Youngbae started to take small, curious steps towards my bedroom.

No, no, no.

“Wait, wait. I called a girl, okay? I’m not proud of it but I spent four bloody weeks in a hospital!” I raised my hands, feigning defeat. “So don’t go in, she might not be dressed.”

Youngbae frowned at me, unsure of the truth in my words.

“You’re dead if the Director finds out.”

“So don’t tell him.” I shrugged. “Anyway, why are you here?”

“This.” Youngbae tossed the envelope to me before waving a quick goodbye. That was quick.

I hurriedly opened and tipped out the contents.

Ooh, an assignment. I flipped though the pages, scanning for the juicy details. No wonder the Director wanted me to have this, assassinations were my forte.  It isn’t that I didn’t value human life, I was just the one pulling the trigger. Urgh, politics. Not my forte. I sped up my flipping, looking for details on the target.

I blinked. My stoic expression remained unchanged as I read and reread the target details. I didn’t even need to look at the picture a second time. I memorized that face already, having seen it for weeks. This can’t be..

But it was. And it was my job. I swallowed my emotions and tied it up, unleashing my hidden persona. I burned all my senses, all my thoughts as I moved swiftly to the bedroom. His soft breathing drifted though the air as I slipped my hand into my backpack, wrapping my fingers around my garrote. Somehow the cold wire against my fingers helped to numb my emotions as I stepped forward, assessing my sleeping target.

This was it, no more stupid emotions to deal with. 

If there are any doubts on what a garrote looks like, http://wiki.wodgotham.com/images/f/f1/Garotte.jpg