Used to the Darkness || DoTae

Chapter Eight

Sunday, April 10th 2158, 00:21.

Cheongnam, South Korea.

Doyoung had lost sight of Taeyong soon after they arrived back at the Northeastern Precinct, and though he was longing to follow the older man to make sure that he wasn't taking the identity of his biological father as too hard of a hit to himself, he thought better of it. Taeyong probably wanted space to process the information that he'd heard during the day, as it was a lot to take in, even for somebody as unpredictable as him, who seemed to thrive off of short-lived spontaneity. It wasn't hard for Doyoung to understand that beneath Taeyong's guise of a demented and unstable man, he was just a normal man besieged by turmoil, both external and internal.

It made Doyoung question what God was really after—was it all some prolonged gambit to develop the older man as a person, which ultimately went awry? If so, why didn't God use his omnipotence to set him back on the right track?

Doyoung couldn't think straight when he questioned Han Changwon with Minhyung, sitting in a cold and damp room in the Northeastern Precinct's basement, far out of reach of any hitmen that may have been sent their way. Most of what Han Changwon revealed to them was simply a reiteration of what he'd already told them, but they needed video footage of the confession for the prosecutor to present at court, but they did find out one new fact, and that was that Jiang Shui and Han Changwon were half-siblings. Erasing their ties to each other was another agreement that made them ultimately decide to work with Park Byeongho, as it would ensure their connection to the Namjeong Clan.

It had long passed 11 PM when Doyoung was finally allowed to head home, following more paperwork than he was frankly willing to complete and then an hour-long discussion of their evidence with Chief Kwon.

Doyoung didn't have the pleasure of falling asleep as soon as he got back to his apartment, as he dropped onto his couch with an exasperated sigh. He'd managed to disconnect from his belated grief for much of the day, but as he sat in his silent lounge, watching the light from the television flicker and dance across the coffee table, the anguish engulfed him like a tsunami on a shoreline. Hunched over a bottle of beer, Doyoung buried his face in his hands and attempted to flush away his sadness. He should have been happy. He finally knew who killed his father, but it never felt how he'd expected it to. He'd anticipated great relief and a feeling of liberation from what was holding him back, but he couldn't feel that way. He couldn't even hate Han Changwon for killing his father. He didn't forgive him, and he wouldn't even consider forgiving the man in a thousand years, but he didn't feel enraged. He felt empty.

Halfway through his chilled bottle of beer, Doyoung furrowed his brow as a knock shook his door on its hinges, and the sound reverberated around the apartment so loud that he was sure his neighbours would hear his aggressive guest even from the next block along. It took Doyoung a moment to muster the energy to make his way to the door, but he eventually did so, not wanting to face noise complaints so early into his residency in the building. He didn't go unarmed, however, and slipped his Glock 17 under the rim of his suit trousers that he hadn't even considered changing out of. He held his ear to the door before removing the chain and unlocking it, not hearing anything significant on the other side to warrant any suspicion.

It hadn't crossed Doyoung's mind even for a moment that Taeyong may have been standing on the other side of the door, and he most certainly didn't expect the sight that he would meet.

Taeyong's state was painstakingly clear to Doyoung as the older man stood beneath a strip of fluorescent light out in the apartment block's hallway, his yellowish-blonde hair messily ruffled and much of his fringe clinging to his forehead, doused in sweat and whatever other fluid had found its way onto the gangster's hair. Taeyong's pupil was distinctly dilated, and a vivid crimson was smeared across his upper lip as the substance oozed from his nose with no sign of stopping. Taeyong lifted his hand and wiped the blood from his nose using the back of his hand, making Doyoung scrunch up his nose as the older man reached out to grab him, successfully latching onto the agent's button-up shirt.