SCHOOL 2020 ▷ bts

seokjin »

"Gamma hydroxybutyric acid."

I nodded my head. "Right. And in English?"

"Cherry meth. Also known as 'Easy Lay'."

Ah. "So a date rape drug?"

"One of the most common ones, in fact."

"Someone's hot stuff."

Chao picked up his phone and started texting. I didn't need to look to know he was relaying the information to the higher-ups.

"Oh, and I went through Jeon's USB," I announced. "There's a locked folder in there codenamed 134340, but our algorithm can't crack it. Thought you should know."

"Alright. Thanks."

Silence.

"Well," I said, tapping my fingers against the side of my thighs, "if there's nothing else I guess I'll just - "

Chao tossed another document onto the table. "Your last target," he said without looking up.

It was an unfinished sentence, but I knew what the other half contained, if he had spoken it.

And then the Council decides your fate.

<⊗>

Kim Seokjin was a very easy man to follow.

First of all, his hair was dyed a pale pink. Secondly, he seemed to have quite the affinity for expensive tailored suits and wore them on all occasions, even if the occasion was just a short trip to the neighborhood convenience store. Thirdly he was physically impressive, with his height and really, really broad shoulders. He was the kind of man you could lose in a crowd and find back three seconds later.

As I watched him talk to the wet market fishmonger from behind my cup of ramen, I stifled the urge to yawn. Seokjin was the last of my recon missions and easily the most boring. My mind drifted, as I began to recall just how all of this had started.

It wasn't a bad thing, being part of the yakuza. But then again I had been born into it, and it had been all that I had known since birth, so I wasn't exactly the best of judges. It was just simply, my family's way of life.

Everything had been pretty okay, up until the day I had turned 19. That was three months ago, on a fresh spring day.

That had also been the first day the yakuza had been attacked.

As a general rule, we didn't get attacked. We just didn't. The yakuza owned certain businesses, certain people and certain parts of towns, and where we had ownership we were fierce. So when one of our warehouses, all stocked up with illegal drugs ready for sale, was suddenly and completely blown up and destroyed, we naturally thought it to be the work of a rival and were ready for a fight.

Imagine our surprise when we tracked it down to the work of six individuals.

Six students, no less.

The yakuza couldn't have that. One of the largest criminal empires in Korea, taken down by students? We'd be a laughingstock. We would never be able to operate with credibility again.

That was where I had come in. Someone from the upper echelons identified me as an excellent trainee, young enough not to be suspected and smart enough not to be detected. These recon missions, scouting out our six suspects, were part of a test to see if I was fit for what came next.

I had no idea what was coming next, but I had a feeling it involved active participation in taking down the targets, and I sure didn't want to miss out on that.

Now I watched Seokjin paid the fishmonger and flashed her a dazzling smile. Such charm. Jimin had only just established his spot as the best-looking of the lot yesterday and already I was changing my mind again.

Seokjin handed the plastic bag of fish to his driver, said a few words, and then the driver got into a sleek Mercedes-Benz and drove off.

Seokjin watched him leave, and then began to walk down the road.

I trashed the ramen cup, bid the 7-11 storekeeper goodbye - who I'd become very friendly with these days - and set off at a brisk walk behind him. Ten minutes later, Seokjin turned into a hospital and I followed, pausing only to look at the name.

Hangang Hospital.

He skipped past the receptionist without a glance, as if he'd been here before and knew where he was going. On the second floor, Seokjin pushed open the doors of a ward. Just before he entered he paused, looking around.

I looked away, feigning a yawn with hands in my pockets. Just another weary relative of a patient.

Seokjin entered the ward - 15A - and before the door could close fully I stopped it with the toe of my shoe. He didn't notice, going straight for the one and only patient bed inside.

I peeked and listened.

As Seokjin sat down on a visitor's chair, the patient turned around and my eyes widened.

His hair was purple now but I couldn't mistake him.

Kim Namjoon.

"Yo. You're here." There was an attractive rasp in Namjoon's voice.

"So it would seem." In contrast, Seokjin's tones were dulcet smooth. "Someone's gotten himself in a pickle."

"Didn't mean to."

"Luckily for you I'm well-aware just how clumsy you can be." The sentence wasn't biting, just a dry remark that seemed to reflect their apparent camaraderie.

Namjoon rolled his eyes. "Wanna get me out of here?"

"Gladly."

From underneath the lapels of his suit, Seokjin drew out both his phone and a vial of liquid. The phone was an iPhone 6S Rose Gold and the liquid a deep black. He started tapping on the mobile while Namjoon took the vial.

Seokjin held up his index finger in delicate warning. "Remember. You're not to drink it until - "

" - they've taken my blood sample and gotten the machines out of me. Yea, I got it."

"Excellent." Fingers typed furiously on the screen and Seokjin stood up. "I have to go. Duty calls."

"See you at school?"

"Likewise."

Namjoon offered a fist bump, which Seokjin eyed with a raised eyebrow before shaking hands with. Namjoon sighed.

Then Seokjin started to walk toward the ward doors and I darted out of sight.