AREA 17

III

Sleep eluded Chol that night, not by the weight of a thousand crimes pressing down his conscience like the hand of God carrying judgement to his sins, but from the alluring whisper of the devil coaxing him to shake on it as they wager on a deal.

A Billion Won.

Holy shit. That was a lot of zeroes in a check it made the North Korea caper look like stolen lunch money. Their previous mission didn't even reach a quarter of it, and they risked their fucking necks to smuggle a military armament that would have countries kill each other just to get their hands on it. Nuclear genocide and all that jazz.

This was another robbery heist but what exactly where they stealing this time?

This was no mundane stipend so it had to be something near impossible. Like breaking into the Swiss banks to smuggle gold, or probably sneaking back to Chosungul to kidnap the prime minister.

Seungchol scoffed amused at that thought. Now that sounded like a billion won caper. Although that fascist pig of a dictator wasn't worth that much cash.

A Billion won, it swirled inside his head again as an afterthought to weigh out his decision.

It was parallel to the price of their salvation. Just the right amount they needed to climb themselves out of this shithole of a living. Heck, with that money they can afford an escalator to get themselves out of this shithole of a living.

Not that it was that bad. Seungchol after all chose this life on his own volition.

But to be finally rid of worries every time they accepted a new caper that came with newer and far more dangerous risks. Seungchol was willing to put his life on the line once again for the safety of his brothers.

With sleep a far off cry from his otherwise tired body, he decided to just put his restlessness to use and do something productive. He contemplated between doing a perimeter check around the warehouse or waiting up for Jeonghan, but another timely option came offering itself up to him.

After sliding out of his bunk bed and slipping his way out of their sleeping quarters, he bounded towards Woozi's surveillance nook to inform him of his impromptu nighttime agenda so as not to send them in flurry of panic in case he'd be gone for quite some time.

His plans however were rearranged when he arrived to the sight of a passed out Jihoon spread eagled on his office chair nearly sinking down the concrete floor.

"Jesus Christ." He muttered under his breath before begrudgingly hoisting the short man upright again, and carting him off to the nearest sofa where he can dump Jihoon.

Tipping the chair over, Jihoon landed on the plush cushions none too gently but was no less disturbed from his sleep, nuzzling the throw pillows the moment Seungchol had disposed of him on it.

Satisfied with the quick transfer, Seungchol walked back to Woozi's work desk wheeling the office chair in tow and settled himself in front of the array of monitors occupying the corner wall of the warehouse. The screens flickered frequently, in and out, over and yonder broadcasting different feeds that kept an eye out for intruders that lurked outside.

Though that never posed as a problem, not when their warehouse was an impenetrable fort armed to the teeth with artillery and other security measure.   They also have no reason to use it when the townspeople steer away from it well enough thanks to the BooSeokSoon trio fabricating a rather ostentatious yet well-versed ghost story.

It was a sleepy seaside town found East of Seoul, the citizens were slightly detached to society and highly superstitious that it was easy for the planted story to fester into a tangible truth and not draw too much attention eyes on a group of adolescent boys that had suddenly taken residence in their quaint little town. After all, how can 13 boys do such harm?