Hahm Yunhee is home. A place of safety. A place of comfort. And yet, a large segment of her heart is missing, left behind in an unreachable world.
Park Jimin is trapped in a parallel universe, fighting for survival while striving to find a way back...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cryptic coloration.
A tactic used by animals to mask their identity and blend with their environment.
Like a viper that relied on its camouflage, he'd detected where his prey was hiding and would soon lie in wait. The cold-blooded creature was sluggish with the inability to move quickly, but its strike was both speedy and deadly.
Angling his face in the bedroom mirror, Taehyung inspected his reflection and marvelled at his appearance with a self-congratulated smirk.
There was no trace of the damage left by Yunhee; a minor aggravation when the scar served as a reminder of the spirited woman, but a necessary evil, nevertheless. He would also miss his charcoal waves, but the new autumn tones complimented his skin tone, and the choppy texture cut two inches shorter felt like satin beneath his fingertips.
The disguise would take some getting used to, but it mattered not. He was unrecognisable, concealed beneath the epitome of his doppelgänger.
Ah, good old Tae-Tae.
The man's timing was awfully convenient. Taehyung understood now that he'd delayed his tête-à-tête with Yunhee because of his wounded pride, but after watching them converse over coffee this morning, it thrilled him to hear that Tae had finally agreed to unite with Jimin.
As the old saying went; it was better late than never.
Taehyung would use the opportunity to take his place, and when he was inside the mansion helping Yunhee and her friends locate Hobi, Hoseok would be at the penthouse assembling two exquisite women as an inducement for Alexander Volkov.
'This jacket is a little tatty.' Heiran loitered behind him like an unpleasant stench with a khaki military jacket hooked on the end of her painted fingernail. 'Are you sure this is his?'
'Yes,' Taehyung whirred, observing the worn piece of clothing as she helped him slip his arms through the sleeves. He was tempted to have the item pressed at the dry cleaner, but he did not want to come across too prim.
Not when he was taking the place of a man who took less pride in his appearance.
'It looks good on you,' Heiran complimented as she smoothed her palms over the material covering his shoulder blades, but Taehyung winced when her nails scraped the bullet wound next to his spine.
'Heiran-'
'Sorry, I keep forgetting Jimin shot you,' she apologised profusely while nervously rotating his body to face her. 'Let me see how you did.'
'It's fine,' Taehyung indignantly clenched his jaw; he did not need a reminder of how he'd been maimed, nor did he appreciate the daft bint manhandling his face and pawing at his immaculate work of art.
'You did well,' Heiran praised as Taehyung - defying the inclination to smack her hand away - lifted his chin and glowered at her along the bridge of his nose.
