Chapter Text
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There are different types of poison in this world.
From a laxative that can empty the contents of the stomach in minutes to the deadly ones which can stop a heart in seconds without leaving a trace, they all have their place—their own uses. Take alcohol for example. The most common toxin people willingly drink. Despite its effects on the human body—distortion of vision, disruption of balance, and inhibition of clear decision-making—many use it to liven their parties and get into a buzz. Likewise, cyanide has its purpose. A dose as low as a hundred milligrams is enough to make a grown man drop dead in seconds.
Fast and clean.
However, Karina Yu has her preferences, especially considering the type of rats she—you have to deal with.
“The body of a thirty-nine-year-old Caucasian man, badly bruised and decomposing, is found inside an apartment at 443 Anlim Street in Gangnam.”
A static voice echoes throughout the silence. With the curtains drawn, shadows roam the stale air, and only the lone lamp by the nightstand keeps them at bay, casting a bilious yellow hue over garish wallpaper. A radio rests atop the dresser, and its small screen shines green. Cold permeates the hotel room. Atop the strewn sheets, a man lies on his stomach at the foot of the bed. Sweat drenches his white shirt. His necktie lies in disarray, and wrinkles litter his trousers. A suit jacket sits on the floor. Discarded.
The neat and styled visage of his greying hair is long gone. Despite the lack of bondage, he lays there without a single twitch of his muscle and labours through every breath he takes. Dilated pupils tremble.
“The body is identified to be that of Daniel Ellsworth, an engineer at ShinAE Systems, who had been missing since the eleventh. Mr Ellsworth had not been present at work for a week. His co-workers, worried about his well-being, came to visit his apartment which led to the discovery of his body.”
Paralytic drugs.
Often used in anaesthesia, it interferes with the signals from the nerves and relaxes the muscles in the body. In lower doses, the symptoms result in nothing but a temporary loss of motor control. In high doses, death will come slowly as the muscles in the lungs stop and the body is starved of oxygen. Asphyxiated while awake. Depending on the substance and its administration, you could leave one free while paralysing other parts of the body. Particularly useful when you need them to speak. Neurotoxic snake venom, hemlock, and curare are but a few in your vast arsenal.
Your favourite type of poison.
“Officers say the body sustained multiple impacts as if hit with a hammer. An autopsy has been ordered. However, it is theorised the cause of death to be asphyxiation.”
He stares into the darkness before him—towards the chair at the corner of the room and the woman sitting on it. Long black hair flows down to her waist. A glimmering dress hugs her body, and a silver necklace hangs from her neck. A ruby ring wraps around her index finger. She holds her hand up as she inspects her decorated nails, picking off the dirt and blowing the dust away.
He stares at you.
The corners of your lips, painted to perfection with just the right shade of pinkish-red matte lipstick, curl into a smile. Black eyes glance over to the man. Uncrossing your legs, you stand up from the chair. The fabric of your dress veils your thighs. High heels thump and thud against the carpeted floor as you walk over to the radio.
“How scary.” Fingertips trace the edge of the dresser. “It must have been a long and painful death.”
“Moreover, officers say that this may be another victim of the recent string of murders in Seoul. However, currently, the police say they have no leads. They are still—”
Click.
A finger presses a button on the radio.
“You should be thankful.” Black eyes glance over your shoulder to the man on the bed. “Yours will be quicker.”
“I,” the man croaks out, “I already told you—told you everything.” His voice cracks and strains. Your gaze turns towards the door, and you close your eyes. Listening. Footsteps walk the corridor outside. Some click with high heels, while others tap with leather shoes. Your hand grabs the handgun resting beside the radio. A silenced Beretta 92FS. “Please—Please don’t do this, Ka—Karina.” Admittedly, even with the suppressor, anyone within distance will be able to hear a gunshot from within this room. However—further in the distance, you hear an exciting beat and feel the trembling bass underneath your feet—they won’t hear a thing.
Your eyes open.
Holding its slider, you rack the gun and release it.
“You’re not—You’re not someone like this, Karina. Karina, please—”
“Shhh.” A finger against your lips. You smile at him. “We have some company.”
Beep.
The lock disengages, and the handle turns with a click. The bright corridor lights spill inside the hotel room as footsteps enter. Two gentlemen in suits—one taller than the other—point the barrels of their pistols into the darkness, while a lady in a dress keeps hers close by her side. The wood groans. Behind them, the door closes with a thud. Step by step, they walk across the long entrance before spotting the man on the bed, gagged with his own tie. His eyes widen. They shout his name and sprint to help him while he cries out with indecipherable sounds.
“Mr Jongsoo!”
“Sir, what have they done to you!”
“Who did this to you, Sir? The Hwang Group will do everything we can to make sure they pay the price for messing with—”
High heels thump against the carpeted floor behind them. Hearing the click of a gun, they whip their bodies towards the entrance of the door and point their pistols at—A finger pulls the trigger, and a gunshot echoes. Blood splatters against the black television screen and drips down the forehead of the shorter man. Thud. His body drops onto the floor. The other two open fire, and you duck low before rushing towards them. Swinging your leg, you knock the woman off her feet, and she staggers against the bed.
The taller man grabs your shoulder from behind. However, you twist his arm and haul him over your shoulder onto the floor. He groans and tries to get up. You press your shoe against his chest, keeping him down. An arm raises. The bullet pierces his chest, and scarlet seeps into the carpet.
A clock flies towards your head, and you knock it out of the air with the butt of your handgun. The woman screams and fires. You dodge to the left and aim your gun. One shot. Her pistol falls and skids across the carpet. Two shots. Blood stains her dress. Three shots. Her body drops dead on the bed beside Hwang Jongsoo, who can do nothing but watch.
“Karina, please.” Tears flow down his face. “I promise I won’t—I won’t do it again. So, please—”
You chuckle.
“Don’t beg me.” You step in front of him. The smile drops. Only venom remains. “Beg the one you pissed off.” The barrel of the gun presses against his forehead. “Father says his regards, Jongsoo. He hopes you’ll do better in your next life.”
“W—Wait, wait, wait, please, you can’t do this to me, Kari—”
“Goodbye.”
You press the trigger. The pure white sheets of the bed become bathed in scarlet.
Walking over to the nightstand, a hand grabs the purse sitting on top and stores the gun inside. You fish out a small wireless earpiece and wear it. The hotel door opens and closes. High heels click against the marble floors of the corridor outside. You tap the outside of the device. Feeling a sting on your neck, fingers reach and touch the area. Eyes glance at the blood-stained fingertips. You move your hair. Black strands cover the bloody wound.
You turn the corner and walk into a hallway larger than the previous. Elevators line its two sides.
“Hm.”
“I took care of the rat. He’s in room 925.” You press the button on the side panels and wait. “Though you’ll find a few more extra rats in there with him.”
“Already? Isn’t the charity event still going on?”
The elevator rings.
“You underestimate me, Oracle.” As the metal doors open, a chorus of mirthful laughter overflows. Men in tailored suits and women in fancy dresses—ones far more expensive than an average employee’s yearly salary—walk out in a wave. Noticing you, they smile and greet you. Alcohol in their breaths. You nod and use the same expression you have been using for years. A mild, humble, and amicable smile. You step inside the empty lift and press the button to the sixth floor. The doors close. “What’s so hard about catching a few rodents?”
“If someone starts looking into Hwang Jongsoo’s whereabouts—”
“Then you better send the cleaners soon.” Granite covers the floor of the enclosed lift while mirrors line the walls. Black eyes glance into your reflection, infinitely repeating into the abyss. You adjust your dress and tidy your silver necklace. Soft jazz music plays in the background.
“Cobra.”
“Yes?” Rummaging through your small purse, you retrieve your lipstick. With one hand, you fix your makeup. Matte pinkish red paints velvety lips, and you press them together.
A sigh comes from the other side of the call.
“I’ll call them now.”
“Now, if there’s nothing else, there’s an event I need to go back to.” The lipstick closes with a click.
“Buy some snacks on your way back.”
“Sure.” Tossing it inside your purse, you shut it and glance at the descending numbers atop the metal doors. “See you later, Oracle.” She hums in response. Ending the call, you take off and store away the earpiece. Your hand reaches up and tucks strands of black hair behind your ear.
The lift rings once more.
You step out as it opens into another corridor. Tall wooden doors lie ajar on the other side, and the buzzing chatter of a large crowd spills out along with the thumping beat of a song. Past the threshold, a ballroom decorated to the nines sprawls in front of you. Chandeliers brighten the large hall, and tables covered in white cloth dot the marble floor. The scent of perfume and cologne mix in the air. Men, women, and others. Old and young. Some are famous, others are rich. Singers, actors, models, directors, journalists, CEOs, and more. Faces recognised by the public. Of course, this includes you.
As you pass by, they smile and nod their heads. Polite. Friendly. You do the same.
You know every single one of them—their names, their personalities, their weaknesses, and their dirty little secrets. Of course, you don’t know all the details except for a select few. But you have your notes, and you have your ways.
After all, it is your job.
Black eyes scour the hall and land on a familiar figure. You walk over. A waiter offers his tray of red and white wine to you, and you grab a glass of white. Thanking him as you pass by.
Floor-to-ceiling windows line the far-right wall, and a woman stands in front of it—near the currently empty stage at the back of the ballroom. Arms crossed. She wears a white dress with a low cut at the back. However, her long chestnut brown hair covers her otherwise exposed skin. Thin bangs and soft pink makeup. Her hand brings the glass of golden champagne to her lips. Amber eyes observe the city.
The sun has disappeared, and the skies turn into a pitch-black void. Rather than playing in the heavens, the stars blink and twinkle in the land down below.
You step beside her.
“Chaewon.”
“Karina.”
“Something interesting down there?”
“Just watching the cars pass by. I’ve had my fill of human interactions for the day.” She takes a sip of her champagne.
“Would you rather if I walk away then?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Admittedly” —her gaze drifts towards you— “you’re the only one here that doesn’t suck all of my energy.”
“An honour, Miss Kim.” You chuckle.
“Savour the privilege, Miss Yu.” Turning to face you, she tilts her head. “So? Where did my best friend run off to after dinner? Do you know how many people kept asking me about you? The number of male admirers you have is honestly scary.” Despite the sigh she lets out, the amusement on her face shows. “I feel sorry for them. They really think they have a chance. Oh, if only they knew.”
“About?”
“What else?” A knowing smile colours her lips, and her eyes glance at your hands—at your short nails—before returning to meet yours. “Your preference.”
“Hah.” A short laugh escapes you.
“So? You haven’t answered my question.”
“I was with” —you pause and glance out the window— “a girl.”
“I knew it.” She rolls her eyes.
“Nothing happened though. There were other people with us, and besides” —black eyes narrow— “she wasn’t my type.” You return your attention to her. “Enough about my love life. Where’s our beloved rising actress? I haven’t seen her today.”
“Minju couldn’t make it. Overseas shooting.”
“How long?”
“Two months or so. The new film is an international collaboration so there are a lot of scenes abroad. At least she calls me on the regular.” She shrugs.
“Are you pouting?”
She clicks her tongue, and amber eyes snap towards you.
“You—”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Ah, forget it. The more I argue with you, the faster I’ll get my grey hair.” She scoffs.
“Even though we’re still in our early twenties? Just admit that you miss her. Are you that embarrassed over being smitten for a newbie? I’m pretty sure she’s also—Ow!” Chaewon kicks your ankle, and you groan. “Not very elegant for the number one artist on Billboard.”
“Serves you right.” She hisses. As faint as it is, you don’t miss the red surfacing on her cheeks and chuckle.
In the next while, you chat with Chaewon in the same corner of the ballroom. You don’t bother to approach anyone else. For one, you already talked to the people you needed to talk to before ‘taking care of the rats.’ And two, they’ll come and talk to the both of you whether you want to or not anyway. Not long after, two people, the MCs, return to the stage and urge everyone to return to their seats. As they do, the chandeliers darken. Only the candles atop the tables and the stage lights remain.
As with any fundraising gala, it’s time for the auction.
Personal belongings, luxury cars, jewellery, customised handbags, naming rights, et cetera. None of the items particularly interest you. For the most part, you only clap your hands with everyone else as someone gains the highest bid. However, you do win an artisanal necklace by a local jeweller—just enough to maintain your public image. Chaewon gets a white leather bag. A gift for her beloved actress no doubt.
The charity event ends with a performance by an idol group and a closing speech by the host.
However, not everyone leaves the ballroom. There’ll be an after-party, but you have no plans to stay.
“But it won’t be fun without you, Karina.” Choi Junho grins. A male model with moderate popularity and far too many flings. His company always has a headache with cleaning up his messy relationships. Rumour has it he has a child with one of his flings. You haven’t bothered to find out whether it's true or not. You smile back.
“You’re just saying that.” A laugh. How much longer do you have to entertain this douchebag?
“Maybe next time, Junho.” The smile doesn’t reach Chaewon’s eyes.
“Oh, come on, it’s not like—”
A hand taps your shoulder. You glance over your shoulder, and you find your manager standing behind you. Black hair. One cold monolid eye, and one white eyepatch over the other. A black suit adorns her figure, and a choker wraps around her neck. Her hand holds an old phone. It was probably manufactured back when you were still a baby. Instead of a touchscreen, green tints its display—you doubt it can produce any other colour—and a number pad lies below it. A flip phone. Unless they have something against modern apps or technology, people don’t use them anymore. At least, most people who have nothing to hide don’t use them anymore. You can already guess what she’s going to say.
Leaning close, she whispers in your ear.
“The boss called.”
Black eyes narrow.
“Father did?” You lower your voice to a hush.
“He wants to see you in his office.”
“Seulgi.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Ready the car.”
She nods and takes one step away, dialling another number on a different phone. A smartphone this time.
You turn towards Choi Junho and the rest of his friends and apologise, telling them you have to go. Without waiting for a response, you and Chaewon walk out of the ballroom. Seulgi informs you that your car is ready, and you say your goodbyes to your friend. She makes a promise to hang out before leaving. As you walk towards the entrance of the hotel, your manager places your coat over your shoulders, and two of your bodyguards join your side. They open the glass doors for you. Reporters line the stairs outside, and metal barricades separate them from the leaving celebrities. Some allow for short interviews, while others only smile and pass through them.
A busy street filled with passing cars lies beyond them, and thankfully, the sidewalk remains free of the media. Otherwise, any passersby will have to walk on the road just to get past the hotel.
Your car rests just ahead, parked by the sidewalk.
You step out of the building. Cameras point their lenses at you and flash bright while multiple hands shove microphones in front of you. At least, try to. The barrier makes it impossible for them to get too close. Voices, loud and noisy, call out your name. Some ask questions, others sing your praises. Not only reporters, but the fans are also here, crowding the stairs and heating the frosty night air. With a kind smile, you wave as you walk towards your car.
However, maybe you were too busy waving at your fans—too busy smiling for the cameras. The moment your high heels tread on the sidewalk, another body crashes into yours, and hands grab onto their arms. You stumble one step backwards. A wave of gasps rings behind you, and the flashes of light turn hurried with no pause.
You blink.
Glancing down, a woman wearing a long black coat and a white t-shirt holds onto your forearms. Rigid. She’s shorter than you. By five or more centimetres. Her shoulders carry the straps attached to a dark guitar hard case. Her brown hair, shoulder length and messy, obscures much of her face. You catch a whiff of a sweet scent. It isn’t flowers. It isn’t powdery. No, it’s a bit more gender-neutral. You can’t quite place your finger on what it is. However, you notice another scent mixing with it—something remarkably familiar to you. But then a breeze blows past you and her, and you find it gone. Maybe you were wrong.
Red lips part, wanting to ask whether she’s fine or otherwise, but the words die in your throat a second later. Between the brown strands, grey soulless eyes meet with black ones.
The security team rushes over to you and shoves the unknown woman away. She stumbles a step back. The head of your security, Kangho, stands beside you and he extends his arm between you and her, shielding you from her. Admittedly, a part of you cannot help but be amused. If only they knew what you do behind closed doors. He frowns and reprimands her. She cannot just approach you like this. It is not permitted.
However, the woman does not react—neither to his words nor to the towering group of guards. She does nothing but stare. Not a word. Not a hint of emotion on her face. A gaze neither hostile nor amicable. You wonder if those eyes could even be friendly in the first place. A cold sensation begins to spread from the back of your neck down to your chest. You curl your fist and keep the smile on your face. You know what she’s doing. She is observing you.
Judging you.
Thinking about it again, how was it possible for you to not have noticed her? You? How could Karina Yu, the woman raised by blood and poison, not notice a person walking up to her? You find it impossible. There is something about this woman that—
“No.” Your thoughts halt. Softer than the wind and far too sweet for those eyes, her voice tickles your ears. Despite the shouts of the nearby reporters and the stern voice of Kangho, you hear her loud and clear as if the world only consisted of you and her. The woman’s lips, cracked and dried, part. “You’re not one of them.”
Black eyes narrow.
“Minjeong!”
Your gaze shifts towards the crowd. Another woman pushes and rushes towards the front while saying her apologies to the people around her. She wears a fishnet hoodie with a dark t-shirt and black pants. Once she breaks through, she runs and grabs the arm of the one in front of you. Frowning. She pulls her away and makes her stand behind her. An apologetic smile replaces her frown.
“I’m really, really, really sorry about my friend here.” She laughs, awkward, before stepping back. “Didn’t mean to waste your time. Again, we’re very sorry!”
With the last apology, she drags the woman down the street.
You let out an exhale.
Kangho turns towards you with a frown and asks if you’re okay. You chuckle and tell him to not worry. Things like this happen quite often when you are a celebrity after all. Granted, you haven’t seen someone quite like her before.
He opens the door to the car, and you thank him.
Your hand holds the roof of the car, and your high heel steps upon the threshold. However, before you climb inside, you pause. Call it curiosity.
Black eyes glance towards the street.
Only to find soulless grey ones staring back.
Even as she is being dragged away by her friend, the woman continues to watch you over her shoulder. The sensation returns. Would it be more accurate to call it a shiver? The corners of your lips turn up into a smile—a different one from before—a different one than what the public sees. Dark and unholy. Your gaze narrows. You tilt your head at her. Black nails tap against the roof of the car.
“Is there something wrong, Miss Yu?”
“No.” You chuckle. The woman’s figure disappears behind a building. You direct your gaze towards your bodyguard, and your smile returns to normal. “Nothing at all.”
You enter the car, and the door closes. Kangho takes a seat in front, and Seulgi sits beside you. The driver takes you away from the venue. The other guards and staff will take a different van. Your manager reminds you of your schedule tomorrow, and you hum to her in response. Really, you’re only half-paying attention to her. You watch the passing buildings blur outside the window, and your finger taps against your knee.
You haven’t stopped smiling.
Minjeong.
Was that her name?
//