Illumination and Umbra

Illumination and Umbra, Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. They belong to Heartless City, JTBC. If I did, I wouldn’t have had to write this!

A/N: I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, I've done my best to go through and pick out the most glaring ones but I"m more than sure I've missed a few.

Illumination and Umbra

Chaper One

I was utterly convinced that in the past four years, this was turning into the worst night EVER.

Of course, this didn’t hold a candle to that certain day I never wanted to think about, the one that ended with a man sprawled on the deck, my hands desperately trying to clasp his limp ones, as his strained gasping breaths ringing through my ears, my last sight of his too still body being loaded onto a stretcher. Or my second worst day, the one where I found out he had survived but had decided to leave, no goodbye, no message to be passed on, no indication of his whereabouts, a very final statement that everything was over, even if Officer Hyung-Min hadn’t told me bluntly so. As if I hadn’t already figured it out from our last meeting in front of Kyung-Mi’s grave, when his final formal and stiff address to me had felt like nails being driven into my skin. Or maybe there was that third day, the one when I had been defeated by the very system I had dedicated myself to, unable to swallow the schemes and duplicity in the name of “justice”, when I had laid my badge on my superior’s desk, and walked away. I could still feel the reprimanding gaze of Officer Hyung-Min planted squarely on my back, the censure and disappointment that after everything, I had given up.

But there’s only so much you can do when you find your world has turned to ash and colors aren’t as bright as they used to be. But, I moved on, as best as I could, finding small jobs here and there, I did have a talent for pouring drinks for old men and smiling pretty, and Jin-Sook understood, I think, maybe even better than I did. She’d offered me my old place, minus any expectation of sleeping with the customers, but I had turned her down. Maybe I was being stubborn, but I didn’t want to rely on anyone, I’d played the damsel in distress and gotten my heart smashed while I watched with clasped hands.

However, this night had started out fairly normal, I’d gone down to the club, smoothly avoiding the disreputable lowlives that seemed to flock around the area, and seen one of my “admirers” lurking around the corner, he’d been strongly warned about getting to handsy but a few drinks and he’d try to go at it again. I tried very hard not to maim the customers, bad for business, but the sight of the cretin put a foul taste in my mouth.

I’d gone in and performed my duties, every mindful of his face, but hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t until I headed outside that I’d caught sight of him, but with my focus on him I completely missed the blinding slap that had come from nowhere. Caught off guard, I’d  hit the floor and taken a kick to the face before security had pulled the scum’s screaming girlfriend off of me, raving about my audacity to steal her man. I’d stared in disbelief as she had been hauled away and off. These things normally only happened on TV. And how unfocused and off was I that she’d been able to lay a hand on me?

That had been round one. Round two had been finding out that the police had been called by a passerby and I’d found myself having to answer questions to a former co-worker at the station, who had taken in my appearance, my jaw was nicely swelling at this point. There had been no words exchange other than the routine, none were needed, I could almost hear the disappointment and disgust in each pen stroke.

Round three had occurred as I’d been heading home, I’d unexpectedly heard a noise, stepped into an alleyway, and seen a young woman who was being harassed by three men. I didn’t live in the finest of neighborhoods, but I could tell that the aggression was going to escalate, the three men were drunk and egging each other on. Quickly making a decision, I’d gone barreling in there, and three against one were not good odds. The good news was I could still throw a man down, the bad news was one had a knife and the hilt had cracked against my lower cheek as I wrestled with him for control, adding yet another layer of bruises to my already abused face.