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If I had questioned it before, I could see that the power held by the manager was obvious now.
Jungkook wasn't even seated at the head of the room, and there was nothing strict about the way he held himself, but I could see his leadership in every movement he made. The slight distance between his knees, the curve to his wrist that rested on one, the bare tilt to his head as he surveyed the room.
Yeah, he was the manager, all right.
We were at the Dragon's Tail, and the light outside was already dying. Gold and orange was fading to the violet of a bruise. The atmosphere was almost asphyxiating, like the multiple storeys above us were going to collapse any moment.
The place was still half-empty, the amount of racers not being enough to fill in the spacious room. Taeyong still wasn't there, even though his leg was almost fully healed. I still didn't know his role in the gang, and though it shouldn't have been a question of doubt, but that was the direction my mind had decided to take.
He obviously had a connection with Jungkook, though I didn't know in what context. There was something between then that I didn't know about. Maybe no one did. I couldn't help but wonder if the manager's absence had been the reason he was always so worked up and angry, but every thought felt like my mind was doing the only thing it could possible do—grasp at straws.
Taehyung and Jinyoung were still talking quietly in one corner, probably discussing the next move of the bikers. No one seemed particularly affected by the news of Baekhyun's death, which made me wonder how many people they had lost to the life of crime.
I, on the other hand, hadn't taken it too well.
The news had come as a shock, even though I had sort-of expected that when we had missed him for a few days. Baekhyun had been a pillar of support, the one with the plan, probably the only one out of the racers whom I could fully trust.
His death had been the one thing needed to push me over the edge. During the time I had spent here, I had been the opposite of uncaring and outspoken. Now, however, it was as if Baekhyun's murder had dragged the beast out of my mind. I barely cared as I sat there, staring at the young manager, daring him to speak to me.
Murder.
Baekhyun had been murdered, that was unquestionable. A bullet wound on his forehead implied that it had been fast, so the attacker probably either didn't care enough about him to drag out the pain, or cared about himself so as to not do more than what was necessary.
Curiously, I let my gaze wander around the mismatched group. None of them knew about me leaving, except Taeyong, who wasn't present. If they had, nothing would be stopping then from confronting me about it.
