Redundancy [Fyodor Dostoyevsky x Reader]

Chapter 1: An Official Start

 Emotions were a thing now foreign to YN. Unlike a baby who had to develop the sense of courtesy for these social conducts, her time on this Earth worked in illusive ways. It was the old faithful argument, was it nature or nurture that guided humans? No one is born with the ability to know their destiny, if that were the case, how would philosophers elope their paycheck? Scratch that, they barely receive a liveable wage in modern society. It wasn't as if she was dumb to all emotions felt by others, the loving glances surreptitiously exchanged between lovers, the despair often smelt in the air of train departures, and even more so the local airports. How ironic it was that something, a construct of time, is so vividly elusive to her in contrast to what it means to the parting families. YN longed to feel what it was like to have that promise of nostalgia, the sweet release of what it was right, the right to be human. Uncomfortable from the gaze of the sun, a creature like that was more alike to YN. So, she waited for someone to tell her: "Is this ability a blessing or a curse?", knowing full well, it would never change her opinion.

The coffee cup sat still upon the mahogany table. There was a tense silence between the two messy individuals. Mori sat with his fingers tapping on the table, his ankles crossed in a polite manner. The other sat perfectly still, so still that you could presume them as dead. They were in fact, asleep.

"YN." Mori's voice shot through the peaceful silence, but YN didn't even stir. Mori scoffed. "YN," He said loudly, hand moving to flick at her forehead. YN's hand shot up to grab his wrist in response, eyes still closed.

"Don't touch me, old man." She sighed, sitting up from her comfortable, slouched position.

"I wouldn't have had to if you weren't so sleep deprived." He shot back, pulling back his hand as he cleared his throat, wanting to get their conversation over with. However, YN simply sat and stared into her coffee cup.

"Go on." She comments, refusing to make eye contact.

"Your mission is a simple one. Espionage." He paused, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. "Your target is Ace, one of our own mafia executives. Anything of an asset will be reported to me directly. As for your backstop–" YN interrupted him.

"You know I don't require escape plans. After all, the thrill is what I live for." A small glint sharpens her eyes, her eyes finally disconnecting from the cup of coffee. Mori simply nodded, it was too much of a headache to argue with her.

"Alright. No one will be assisting you in this mission. However, the other notably present individuals may be Ace's servants, and his victim, the demon."

"The demon?"

"Fyodor Dostoyevsky. We know that he is linked to the crashing of the Moby Dick, he is a powerful individual and Ace is being tasked with navigating just how powerful he is."

"With a name like "the demon", just keep him locked up for fuck's sake." YN huffed, lighting a cigarette in between their lips. Mori simply ignored her, staring at her in a calm silence as YN took a long drag, the hot sensation pooling down her throat and filled her empty lungs, it stung in the best way possible. It stung enough to help her feel whole. From the overwhelming sensations around her, the dull ache of her body. The reflections she saw in the coffee Mori's underling offered her, the buzzing taste of death sitting across from her. Her movement had never been particularly elegant, awkward in nature and never poignant of the right timing. The chair squeaked noisily behind her, being pushed back from the momentum of her weight. The clicking of her boots against Mori's wood floors only stopped once her hands were propped against the handles of his door.

"I'm leaving." YN called out, and Mori wasn't sure why. They both know that they didn't care for each other, but Mori's voice worked its way from his chest.