Kim Himchan. Con Artist.
Description
If there was one thing Himchan knew how to do; it was lie. He grew up lying and hiding things from his parents, sister, and even his friends. He lied to his girlfriends and he lied to his teachers. Hell, he had even lied to himself more than a few times. He was good at playing people, making them fall behind his every word. Society was mere putty in his hands.
That is, until he met someone that gave him a run for his money.
Who knew he'd get beaten at his own game by some spoiled, rich brat?
Foreword
"Watch where you're going." the man's voice is nothing short of a growl as he stoops down to retrieve the items that fell from his hands the moment a stranger bumped harshly into his shoulder.
A quick, rueful apology is thrown his way, something Himchan finds very odd. Why would a man, presumably around his own age, apologize so frantically? The stranger was a giant; over six-foot tall. But one look at his soft, puffy cheeks, and you'd think he wasn't a day over fourteen.
"S-sorry! I'll be more careful..." bow after bow bent the young boy in half as he tried, in vain, to make up for his 'horrid' mistake.
The nerve! Did this kid even know whom he was talking to?
Well, of course he didn't. Himchan was only a con artist, after all. But in his mind; he was the most important person in the world. "How old are you, kid?" the question was asked out of curiosity, but it seemed hostile droning out of his deep, gravelly throat.
"S-seventeen..."
Himchan sighed and narrowed his eyes. "Go on, then." he waved his hand, and the boy scampered off skittishly. After all, he couldn't con someone that was still in high school. It seemed morally wrong and completely unethical to his profession. Even though he simply lied for a living; he did have a heart.
He sighed yet again, trudging down the street, his hands in buried deep in his expensive coat-- the only one he happened to own that wasn't stolen. But he felt a strange lightness on his wrist, which he shrugged off.
But when he stepped into his apartment, toeing off his shoes and sliding off his coat; his heart skipped a beat and confusion settled in. Where was his watch? The gold Rolex that his ex-boyfriend, Yongguk, gave him the day before he found out Himchan was cheating on him was nowhere to be found. He frantically searched his coat, the floor, even under the couch and other furniture.
That brat on the street stole it! Himchan remembered how the boy had tugged and pulled on his wrist to keep from falling. How could the world's greatest kleptomaniac fall for the oldest trick in the book? He growled audibly, fishing his phone from the coffee table.
"Gukkie?" Himchan practically purred into the phone when he heard the other line pick up. "I need a new watch."
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