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Chapter 32

Over the next couple of days, I isolated myself in my office. I refused any interactions other than the surface pleasantries. Work was less busy but it kept me occupied from overthinking. To pass time, I sorted through the pile separated into three distinct categories, enquiries on the business, public relations and threats. As much as I would like to think I was unfazed by the threats, I was edging with anxiety and what ifs by the end of the sortment, spiralling into the endless pendulum of overthinking. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 
I jumped at the voice and turned to find a curious cat playing with the paper piles. He flicked through the threat pile with disinterest. 

“All of these are unoriginal.” 
I wonder how San could be so casual about these threats. He sensed my question. 

“People send death threats from time to time, no worries.” he elaborated. 
It did not ease my nerves one bit.

I got up and a loud crack sounded from my knees and back. San stared at me with concern. I brushed it off and obtained paper from one of the numerous cabinets. I sat back down, now with paper alongside coloured pens and dove right into the spreadsheets on the daily schedule. The alliance fallout was official and embargoes were enforced, though it did not stop smaller groups from utilising our services. 

My unease grew as the pile of threats grew. The nightmares became more frequent. I could easily imagine myself driving one of my daggers into a target’s midsection and feeling nothing but twisted satisfaction at my actions. There had been times where a coat of red covered my palms before disappearing in a blink.

Throughout the night, I would find myself in the workshop, shaping the arrow tips and tracing my finger over the sharp edge. Sometimes my fingers would slip, blood welting up from a clean line that ran from the base of my fingerpad to the proximal knuckle. The sensation left a tingle, thoughts only focused on how smooth the cut was, how easy it was to cut into flesh.

At first, it was out of curiosity, feeling the tingle run down the hand to register as pain in the brain. Then it became a reprieve from feeling numbed before it became too messy, too bothersome to clean up. The injuries stopped when I finished shaping all the arrows. I was caught when I fell asleep without cleaning up, prompting a stern scolding from Jongho who miraculously did not consult with Seonghwa and quietly cleaned up everything.

Without further distractions, my thoughts were loud, always buzzing and never leaving. I would lie awake from the taunts that corroded the beams of my mental stability. Sometimes I wished my mind would die. The tangle of emotions coiled into itself. It had all built up till it stopped bothering me, sucking all the energy out. Days sometimes felt like weeks and the weeks felt like days. 

•••

I had been summoned to the captain’s office. I was at the door, waiting to be let in. Hongjoong glanced up and beckoned me in. I sat down opposite of him.

"The past few days," Hongjoong tried to look me in the eye. "Care to explain?"

I hadn’t responded. Eyes dead straight ahead. 

"Well?" Hongjoong started his impatient tapping. 

I made no move and stared emotionless back at him. No challenge, no sorrow, no anger and no shyness. Just lifeless. Blankly, I shifted my line of sight elsewhere, disinterest clear. Motionless yet again. Minimal eye contact and zero engagement. 

“You are going to fix this.” 

How was I supposed to fix anything if I can’t even locate the problem?

I left reality to drown in my thoughts. I couldn't hear any of the words after. It was like I submerged myself in the ocean, voluntarily drowning because I had given up on fighting for air.