TARGET

마흔 셋

He found it strange to experience alienation in the place he had spent practically every living hour in up to that moment, and yet despite his incredulity, that was exactly what he was feeling.

Wonwoo sat rigidly the supposed abode of livelihood, the familiar leather beneath him croaking under his incessant fidgeting.

Everything was off.

The reticent rhythm of the analog clock, blaring in the vexatious atmosphere he was submerged in. Every aspect of the antecedent serene room was a factor contributing to the subtle unrest boiling within him; it was excruciatingly hard to focus on the task at hand:

His gaze fixated upon the sombre chip, more analogous to a hard drive, in all actuality. It resided, enclosed in its full glory, emitting a sacrosanct aura even through the sheen of the Ziploc baggie.

Who would've thought such a measly chunk of metal would be the staple of all Ursula Minor endeavored to acquire for all those years?

Nonetheless, with hands encased in vinyl gloves, Wonwoo gently drew the contraption from its indwell, his teeth sinking into the skin of his pursed lips.

He held it in the cradle of his palms as if the apparatus would dissipate with the slightest blunder-

"ONE-WOOOO-"

"LORD-" Wonwoo jolted, protectively clasping the chip between his palms,

"It's actually Soonyoung, but knock your socks off I guess," The elder sneered, sliding into the leather chair beside him,

Wonwoo briefly glowered at the rowdy individual, who was preoccupied in spinning in the office chair in what Wonwoo assumed to be an attempt to induce vertigo.

Rolling his eyes, he nonetheless proceeded. He seized a salvaged laptop to test the parameters of the chip with the disposable device.

With ginger hands, he inserted the apparatus into the USB port of the computer, chest tightening in anticipation,

and-

He respired in relief, shoulders slouching from its antecedent tensed state. Thankfully, nothing had happened-

Oh?

Abruptly, the aroma of smolder overwhelmed his nostrils, then a prompt insufferable heat searing his hands in which he held the computer in,

He hissed a string of curses under his breath, playing hot potato with the dell laptop as he retrieved the chip and dropped the incinerated device.

His sight fluttered to his vacant left palm,

A fiery crimson blossomed underneath the fabric of his upturned palm, the glove melted and meshed with his skin that bear tears that were strewn intermittently across his hand,

The elder slowed his reel in the seat beside him, sending soft currents to sift through Wonwoo's raven mane, "Wonwoo do you know if- HOLY SHIT YOUR HAND!"

Soonyoung gently reached for Wonwoo's hand, pulling it under his close inspection, his lips drawing into a pout, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, maybe if SOMEONE wasn't too busy trying to revive his concussion then maybe," snatching his hand back, the younger revolved back to his esteemed console militia before him, the light emanating from the contrivances reflecting upon his agitated features,