❝𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙? ❞
No one is safe, no one is spared.
x byun baekhyun
x mul...
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This world is full of evil. You can find it everywhere and it doesn't even try to hide. Our type of evil, is the worst one possible.
People think that I'm cursed. They think that all of us are, everyone who associates themselves with one of the Five. They believe that we are bad, rotten to the core and they are not wrong, but it's easy for them to speak when they didn't get a taste of what we had. We're as high to the top of the world as you can possibly get and once you've savored the power that comes along with being a king or a queen, it enchants you and pushes you down a road with no return.
A queen, huh?
Not yet, but one day I will get there.
'' You again! '' I opened my eyes at the sound of an irritated voice, slowly raised my head and looked at the familiar detective that was standing in front of me. My fingers were still drumming on the cold surface of the table in interrogation room 3, the same spot where I usually spent the night if I happened to get arrested after midnight. For a moment, the detective and I just stared at each other, then I suddenly let out a loud yawn and his scowl even deepened before he tightened his grip around the file that he was holding in his hand and hissed: '' Every day, it gets harder to resist the urge to slap you across the face with your own police file. ''
'' My own police file? You're a cruel man, Junmyeon. Why don't you just hit me with a brick? That would probably hurt less. My police file is fatter than a dictionary... Anyway, we should just start meeting up in cafes or something like that, don't you think? Wouldn't that make things easier? '' I casually asked, rested my chin against my hand and smiled at the detective.
Kim Junmyeon seemed even more tired than usual, making me wonder if he came here right after a night shift instead of going home to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time for him to do something like that. His dark hair was combed back from his face and the bulb that was hanging above us, was casting an unusual light at the gruesome bruises that were littering his muscular arms and disappearing under the rolled-up sleeves of his dark blue uniform.
It was two weeks since he had a dangerously close encounter with death and just thinking about it was enough to bring back a strange uncomfortable sensation in my stomach. I didn't like that. I didn't like the idea that I grew so accustomed to seeing the face of a cop, that just the thought of him dying was enough to make me feel bad.
He is just another cop.
They drop like flies around here and if he would happen to disappear, you would find another one to drink your morning coffee with and make fun of.
