Jiyong’s appalled gaze can put anyone unease, or can make any girl swoon. But now Michelle should endure it, or her plan won’t work. She fixed herself, trying to be seductive, but even though she had been trying to be seductive over the three years. And even though they’re acquainted, he still won’t tell her his real name when in fact, her stepdaughter he just knew of by a couple of minutes, calls him by his name. Her private investigator reported what his real name, of course but Jiyong won’t tell her himself. Besides, she can’t call by first name basis. He’s very sensitive of his private life.

“I left my house unlocked. You only have a few minutes to talk, and then I’ll be on my way.” Jiyong said, risking a glance at his wristwatch and then back at Michelle. He looked uncomfortable in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, maybe because he wasn’t presentable enough. But then, he still looked good. Better than a commoner, as Michelle would put it.

“Please, sit down.” Michelle gestures to the chair in front of her desk, and Jiyong is more willing to oblige. He sat on the chair on the right side with a grunt, and asked, “What do you want to say?”

“Why don’t you help yourself with some apples? It’s freshly picked right off the bat from our farm.” Michelle pointed at the apples inside the woven basket placed on top of her desk, just in front of Jiyong. The later looked at the California apples closely, and looking up, he answered, “I don’t eat apples.”

Michelle inwardly smirks, grabbing a nail pile from the small opened pouch on her desk, and as she piles her nails, she said, “Sandara loves apples. I remember when she’s just six; she ate a whole basket of apples for lunch.”

“She did, now?” Jiyong asked, amused and grabbed one apple from the desk. He brought it to its nose, inhaling its apple scent, and some add-on scent that he can’t figure. He never really liked apples that much, just one for the whole month for his quota. It’s not like his favorite fruit, banana, which he can take every day and also takes his favorite color, yellow. Apples are red.

“One bite won’t hurt, would it?” Michelle pries, putting the nail pile on the desk and continued, “Besides, your friends who had been here had eaten at least one.”

Jiyong brought the apple to his lips, and bared his teeth. He took one bite, one crunchy bite and chewed, bringing the bite of apple all around his mouth. A strong, thick and thick fluid ran through his veins after he had swallowed the apple, Jiyong could feel it moving inside his body and mixing with his blood, and when the thick fluid overpowered his own blood, he dropped the apple to the floor, his body following after. Jiyong crumpled, holding the sides of his head with both of his hands and he groaned, grunted and shouted, even, because the fluid made him immobile, not just plainly immobile, but the kind of immobile where he feels pain, like he’s a demon being exorcised. He felt he’s mutilating. His brain starts to feel fuzzy, groggy and light and he can’t think properly—like his brain cells are damaged. His old memories starts to fade, and new memories suddenly popped out, like when he’s reading a book to refresh his knowledge.

Michelle peered down to look, and saw that the overactive Jiyong had become immobile—no longer twitching and writhing, but immobile. Then, after a few moments he stood up, stiff and with posture. Jiyong was marked by changes. His dark brown eyes now had turned red, like the apple he ate a while ago; his whole body is marked with a black tattoo, like he’s now a member of Orochimaru’s group. His face was marred with a pattern, a series of zigzags connected at each other, and the tail end of it is connected to his mouth. His sweatshirt and sweatpants had the best job of hiding the patterns marring his whole body.

“Join the others in the basement and wear the uniform.” Michelle commanded, smirking at her piece of art. “Then, track Sandara’s phone. I want the coordinates sent to my guards. Keep me informed, and after that…” She purposely hangs her words in the air.

“Kill Sandara.” Jiyong finished her sentence, his voice awfully cold and menacing.