When cold bodies drop silently in the cold nights of Seoul, seven boys full of curiosity can't help but plunge knee-deep into the blood-stained mystery.
"You, yes you," he bellowed at a pale-faced young male that seats in the front row,"Get the fuck out now." His wrinkled forehead boiled in anger, brows furrowed to the point that they appear adjoined, an accusing finger a curse agaisnt the trembling saxophonist.
Shaking in red and tear stains, the unfortunate fellow scurried out of the humongous auditorium.
Kim Seong-Min was of expressions and exaggerated emotions, anger and disgust a prevalent one of little. He was a straight, self-righteous man of three-and-fourty. He considered himself accomplished, being finely educated in music and art. True to his words, so accomplished was he, that he was once again selected as concert master for a reigning thirteen years.
His heated gaze swung across the musicians lined before him, "Take this as a warning. I do not have time for the incompetent lot of you," his lips pulled into a fine line, "and if I find you so, I will not hesitate to remove you at the instant." A stern experession marred his features, hawk-like eyes gleaming with scrutiny.
Silence fell in half the bat of an eye.
Tapping the polished baton thrice, his arms graced the crowd once again, moving in a languid yet fluid pace to the beat of the ringing grand piano. A chorus of silky sopranos and velvet altos reverbrated across the hall once more, each one afraid and guarded of being the next victim of his wrath.
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The windows rattled as the wind howled beneath the veil of twilight. Kim Seong-Min slid the last of the saxophones across the oakwood shelves, ensuring that they did not rattle agaisnt the coarse surface.
He dusted his hands, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The brass plated instruments gleamed beneath the moonlight, stained with ocassional streaks of red-brown; each a proud throphy of tiresome late-nights and sleepy mornings. He shrugged on his coat, before pacing back to the desk that stood erect beside the grand piano. Smacking his nimble fingers, he flipped through the music sheets one last time, ensuring that everything was spotless. Check, double-check, triple-check.
Humming under his breath, the melodies spun softly in his head, the gears agaisnt his skull creaking to its rhythm. Without fail, the piece would be the marvel of this very year, as would be the concert. He knew his work was never short of perfection.
Satisfied, he flicked a brass switch as he exited the hall, head turned over his shoulder as he watch darkness slowly flood the room. Unguarded, a cold blade swiftly and expertly sliced across his neck -- so deep and quick a plunge it was a miracle his head was not severed. His lifeless form crumpled down on the carpet, its fiery crimson shade a disguise for the blood that gushed from the gaping hole at his throat.
♧♧♧ a/n I KNOW this chapter is kind of horrible??? But I had to force myself to produce this because I haven't published a chapter in a long time. Sorry! (Will be edited hopefully soon)
