It was all in the news: Jun Pyo had managed to snag one multimillion dollar deal with an Australian company all by his lonesome, it seemed. The absence of the all-powerful Shinhwa matriarch apparently didn't derail the entire process - in fact, for some reason, her son even managed to charm the socks off the (very, very old but very, very single and very, very available ) CEO of that corporation! The entirety of South Korea was in frenzy over that bit, for a while.

(-do you know how many insects there were in my hotel room? And they called it the deluxe suite! I had to switch rooms three times before leaving altogether! Aish, I ought to fire all their asses- why are you laughing? It's not funny! Shut up! Why am I telling you this anyway? If only Jan Di was here; she'd track down all those disgusting bugs and-)

The word about Ji Hoo, meanwhile, was that he was set to graduate a full year earlier than expected, due to his exceptional grades and his aptness for the course he was taking.

(-I'm worried about leaving her behind, but I suppose it can't be helped. Jan Di's a strong girl, after all... I have to learn how to let her go some time, don't I? Now's as good a time as any-)

Then there were talks about how Yi Jung was set to conquer the Swedish art world, being the youngest to be sponsored by several world-renowned organizations in holding an exhibit of his own works in one of the museums there.

(-my hand's regaining its use, apparently. I'm not yet convinced I'm giving them my best yet, but they said my work is good enough to be sponsored anyway. Ha! Good enough. I don't want to be just good enough! Isn't that why I left Korea in the first place? These foreign idiots-)

And then there was Woo Bin, currently sitting at the VIP lounge in the most exclusive club in the city, surrounded by expensive liquor and exquisite women and exciting music. He grabbed a glass and drained it in a single gulp, welcoming and wincing at the burning in his throat. One of the girls he was with placed a hand on his thigh, inched it upwards, smiled suggestively - your place or mine?

The most delectable girl in the club, making moony, stupid eyes at him while he sat and enjoyed the best kind of 'entertainment' there was, in this part of the town. Some guys just had all the luck.

And yet here Woo Bin was, wondering why this felt trite and contrived and boring, all of a sudden.

He smiled lazily at the woman - no reason to be rude; it's mostly not her fault she's turning out to be one of the easiest conquests in his entire life - he hadn't even done anything to try and get her to bed yet, and here she was, offering herself to him in a silver platter! - and he wagged his finger at her.No; not tonight. Maybe if you tried to be a bit more challenging, less easy, just this once-

Woo Bin casually glanced around him, then ordered for another round of liquor for himself and his batch of 'friends' for tonight.

Will it kill everyone and everything to be a bit challenging, for once?

He couldn't place where this niggling feeling - this cloying discontent - had stemmed from. All he knew was that it had somehow wormed its way into his consciousness until he couldn't even enjoy the simplest of things - the things that he used to delight in so, so much, when his friends were still here, with him.

Woo Bin paused, then smiled ruefully at himself.

Maybe he was feeling like this because he was alone.

Or maybe he was feeling like this because he was alone and because he was armed with the knowledge that the other members of F4 were doing something with their lives, whereas he, on the other hand-

The refilled drink was emptied even before the waiter sat the glass down on his table. He then grabbed the entire bottle the waiter was carrying and shooed him away.

God. Since when did it become his goal to get himself mindlessly drunk when clubbing? That was Yi Jung's style; never Woo Bin's.

Then again, without Yi Jung here, he might as well fill the void he'd left behind.

The idea presented itself to him the following morning.

Nursing a gigantic hangover was never fun, though he supposed it was a distraction that he could use to his advantage - it was certainly something different and better than his default feeling of 'gaping dissatisfaction'. Still, it made him loathe mornings even more, as sunlight seemed like sharp shards of glass scratching his eyeballs and every sound felt like splinters piercing his eardrums in glee.

It was that godawful.

Woo Bin had a glass of cold orange juice pressed to his right temple and a glass of water on the other when his father entered the dining area.

"Rough night?" he asked.

Woo Bin grunted in response. There was a smile to his father's face that he didn't quite like, usually because his father was never one to say words or act on things without deeper - even hidden - meanings.

"I don't remember you having difficulty holding your weight in liquor," his father continued conversationally, as his butler arranged the napkin on his lap.

"I don't," Woo Bin replied quickly, wincing as he began hearing cutlery moving against porcelain surface. He set the glasses down, resisted the urge to plant his face on the table. "Things just got... messy, that's all."

"Would you be needing my help to sort out this-" he gestured with his fork, "-mess of yours?"

That was Song Senior; always willing to help his son out however he could. Such was always his way. It was not so surprising then that, out of all the members of the F4, it was Woo Bin who had the best relationship with his father.

Questionable principles and doubtful morals notwithstanding.

Woo Bin shook his head, then cursed when light began dancing in his eyes. "It's been taken cared of," he said. No matter what their relationship was, he had no intention of sharing with his father whatever stupid epiphany he'd gotten last night and besides, when the elder Song got involved, things inevitable, needlessly got deadlier anyway, and Woo Bin didn't need that sort of complication to think about.

Not now, anyway.

"Well, if you're sure." Then his father shrugged, and that was that.

A few minutes into their companionable silence, his father broke the stillness again when he said, "I'll be taking the plane to Colombia. I'll be gone two to three weeks - a month, at the most." He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then reached for coffee and cigar. "See to it that you're still in one piece when I return."

Colombia. His father practically lived there, and it was hardly surprising. However, despite the ache in his head - or perhaps because of it - Woo Bin got struck by an idea that seemed impossible and ridiculous at first, but slowly becoming more sensible by the second.

"Who's going to be minding our businesses with you gone?"

The question seemed to have caught his father off guard, but he'd quickly masked it. "Our managers, of course," he answered. Then he looked at Woo Bin. "Why-"

"Let me do it."

Woo Bin had said them so eagerly it was hard to believe these words were coming out of his mouth. To his surprise, he found out he actually meantthem.

"You?" The doubt in his father's voice was palpable, and who could blame him? It wasn't like Woo Bin had expressed interest in their business, before this morning. "Woo Bin-"

"I can learn," he said. "Teach me. Or get someone else to do it for you, if you don't have the time." He spread his palms on the table, then pushed himself up to stand before his father. "I want to learn."

Please.

Song Senior was understandably surprised, but Woo Bin knew in his gut what his answer was even before he gave it.

After all, his father rarely refused any of his requests.

In the next few days, they all found out that Song Woo Bin was hardly just the Mafia Prince with a pretty face; he was a Mafia Prince with a pretty faceand a pretty good head for numbers and for spotting details that were easily overlooked by others.

His father had seen to his training a few days before his scheduled trip to Colombia, and seemed satisfied with both the training itself and how responsive his son was to it.

Woo Bin, meanwhile, was just fiercely glad he had something else to occupy his time and mind. True, having a fixed schedule took some time to get used to, being that he'd never had to worry about the time and appointments and responsibilities before - and in the worst of moments he even cursed himself for wanting this in the first place, but overall? It wasn't a decision he regretted making.

Yet.

At least now he'd achieved an understanding of why Jun Pyo was always so cranky, and why their conversations tend to be short and hardly eversweet.

Hell, he even understood why Yi Jung often ended up not answering most of his calls and how inconvenient it actually was to answer his phone when he was already 'off the clock.'

Now, he was on his way to one of their most recent construction sites. This one had easily caught Woo Bin's attention as not only was it their biggest project to date, it was also their most expensive. He'd told no one of his plans, intending it to be another of 'Prince Song's surprise spot checks', as he'd christened them. This way, should anyone be monkeying around, then he'd catch them red-handed.

Then 'appropriate actions' could be done.

He'd just hung up on Jun Pyo and his ceaseless complaining of how he missed Jan Di terribly when Woo bin happened to glance outside his window and spotted a seemingly familiar figure sitting on one of the benches on the streets. Her bright yellow coat stood out from the monotonous colors of those walking by her; and despite her hair forming a curtain around her face Woo Bin was pretty damned certain it was Ga Eul.

Just as he was pretty damned certain there was something wrong with the picture.

He checked his watch; he still had thirty minutes to spare and before he even knew what he was doing and why he was doing it, Woo Bin was already telling his driver to stop and he was getting out of the car and walking towards her.

"Ga Eul?"

She looked up suddenly, and to his horror Woo Bin realized she was crying.

... Aish.

Let it be known to the world that Song Woo Bin was such a er for damsels in distress.