SCHOOL 2020 ▷ bts

1.11

Nobody could check the boxes for "broody, angsty, bad boy" as much as Kim Taehyung could. After a full day of following him around, I was convinced of that fact. He ate alone, walked alone, studied along, and had the impressive ability to keep the same face while doing all those things. It was a face that said he was permanently judging you, and it repelled everyone within a one-mile radius. 

After one day of watching him looking bored in class, looking bored in the hallways, and looking bored in the cafeteria, I was feeling pretty bored myself. You could be forgiven for thinking that he was nothing more than an ordinary boy that had rebelled a bit too much at home, and thus had been shipped off by his rich-but-no-time-for-family parents to School 2020, who hoped the authorities there would have better success reining him in.

Almost forgiven. I had not forgotten the wicked ease with which he had pinpointed my abilities, along with the fact that he knew Lord Taikan's story. The latter, especially, was the fist that slammed down on the panic button, because it meant that :

a) he had heard it as a tale, which meant he was someone who had heard tell of the yakuza, someone who maybe even had had dealings with us in the past, or
b) he was part of the tale, which meant that he was there when it all happened. 

B seemed unlikely, partly because no one had survived the wrath of Lord Taikan from the incident, and also because Taehyung was just a bit too young to have taken part. Unless he was the son of the Seoul doctor, out for revenge for his father's death? It all seemed a bit too far-fetched.

So that left us with A. He had had dealings with the yakuza. But how? I was bewildered. Again, his age came into factor - but then, Hoseok and Jin were all pretty young to be messing around with the yakuza too, and they had. Besides, if Taehyung had had some business with us in the past, I was sure that our database would have information on him. We kept tabs on everything and everyone that we had ever crossed paths with.

All this guessing is going nowhere, I thought to myself as I watched from behind a pillar while Taehyung poked his dessert with a metal spoon. He took a gingerly bite out of it, before making a face and pushing his bowl away. Someone doesn't like red bean. I added that to my list of Things I Knew About Kim Taehyung, which was only six - 

1. He had a small elephant tattoo at his hip. Something I found out when he went to the gym and did pull-ups.
2. He looked good from just about any angle, and it should be a crime.
3. He knew at least six different martial arts.
4. When he walked, he barely made a sound, regardless of what the floor surface was.
5. I'd never seen him flinch. Not even when a rugby pass accidentally went flying across his face while he was reading a hardback Sherlock Holmes for one of our assignments. 
6. He liked licking his lips with his tongue out. A lot.

I sighed, looking at my watch. It was nearing 8 pm now. That meant that he was going to finish his dinner and return to his room, where he would stay until the next morning. Taking out the small notebook I kept on me, I scribbled down - 

Day 4. Nothing of significance.

Watching Taehyung pack up his things reminded me that I had several assignments of my own that I hadn't yet complete. Although my main assignment would always be the one that served the yakuza, but completing my school assignments was also imperative as it ensured that I wasn't expelled. 

I debated stopping recon for the day; I'd already know the path he'd take as well as what he would do after this. Kim Taehyung was a man of very little habits, but this was one of them. Still, my integrity as a spy refused to let me do a half-assed job, and so, with a sigh, I followed Taehyung as he made his way back down the same path I'd walked a dozen times, to the same room that I'd waited and watched for the past three nights. 

The corridor from the cafeteria to the boy's dorm was a cakewalk, but the hallway that stretched between the main entrance of the boy's dormitory to Kim Taehyung's room - block 5, number 30 - was always the most treacherous part of my daily reconnaissance. For one, unless you were a terrible oblivious reader, I was a girl. Secondly, it was almost always never deserted. There was always someone throwing a basketball and someone catching it; or someone chasing someone who had pranked someone. 

It was, in a nutshell, chaos, and I'd always felt a bit like a news reporter navigating through a war-rife location of bombing and gunfire. 

Luckily today, saved for a boy banging on his friend's door asking for homework help and his friend grumbling while handing over the answers, it was mostly empty. I hid inside a wall recess while the exchange went on, and when it was over, sprinted quietly forward, making sure to always keep twenty paces behind my quarry. 

We were about a minute away from Taehyung's room when a loud ringing echoed around the vacant space, and I jumped. For a horrible second I thought my own phone had gone off - it was a generic ringtone and I used a generic ringtone - but then Taehyung reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Every part of me snapped into rigid alert. 

He was using an iPhone. Exactly like Kim Seokjin - and his friends. Could it be just coincidence? Seokjin and his gang used iPhones that were almost of the same series, and the model Taehyung was using now looked like it could be, as well. But they're enemies. Aren't they?

Taehyung gave the screen a cursory glance before placing it to his ear. His voice was rough around the edges. Deep. 

"Yes?" It sounded more like a command then a curious question.

A brief silence. "When?" Then - "What are the damages?"

Damages? Now this was getting interesting. Because this was out of the ordinary. This was not something I had observed in the past three days.

"Did the media get involved? I see. Very well. Do the usual." Then he hung up.

For half a minute he did nothing but stand in the corridor, motionless. My mind whirled, trying to see if I could sort out anything from the little bit that I had heard. The media ... A part of me immediately thought that the person to ask would be Jung Hoseok, because if anyone was an expert on the press, it would be him. Another part of me balked just as quickly at that idea. 

Taehyung walked the last few steps to his room, then dug in his pocket for his keys. As he pulled his keys out, his phone fell. Because the front of the door had a lush, thick welcoming mat, the device made no sound as it landed, and then Taehyung had unlocked his door and entered. The door slammed shut behind him; he hadn't even bothered to turn around while closing it. Whatever that phone call had been, it was obviously weighing on his mind enough for him to be careless.

Crouching down, I waited for a minute. Then I waited for another. No Taehyung reappeared to claim back his phone. 

Maybe he went to bed straight. Maybe he's showering. Whatever it was, I might have time to look through his phone and get what I need. I had the USB device in my pocket, the same one I had used to steal Jungkook's contents from his phone. I could do it again. It would take me only five minutes; six, tops. Maybe even lesser, if Taehyung didn't have much in his phone. 

Being extremely careful, I removed my shoes and lined them up neatly against the wall. I couldn't risk making any noise now. Then, quickly and silently, I ran forward on the balls of my feet toward where the phone lay. 

My fingers had barely closed around the device when the door of Taehyung's room opened and his smoky blue eye contacts filled my whole vision. The tips of his soft hair brushed my cheek.

"Hello there, my little mouse," he said, grinning, and then I was pulled inside his room and the door slammed shut on both of us with a sound a lot like Hell's gates closing.

Shit.