Beautiful Crime || DoTae

Chapter Two

Please refer to the end of this chapter for trigger warnings if you require them.

Friday, August 11th 2161, 09:38.

Cheongnam, South Korea.

Even as Taeyong opened his eyes, everything around him was dim and blurry. He took a deep breath. Upon lifting his head, a twinge of agony attacked the nerves in his neck, making the strain it was feeling painstakingly clear. A cold sensation was snaked around his wrists, and his skin felt tender, bruised wrists. It was caused by some kind of shackles or handcuffs, he recognised. Every slight movement left pain to ripple through his body in waves.

It felt as though the ground beneath him was swaying and jolting under an invisible force, and Taeyong's stomach lurched at the imaginary sensation as though the room was actually quaking. He let out a weak sigh as his throat burned up, only making him feel much worse. The air was thick with smoke, but there wasn't a fire. Taeyong scrunched up his face as the scent of a cigarette's smoke dissipated into the air around him. He hated the scent more than one could imagine. Even the slightest hint of cigarettes in the air left him on the verge of expelling his last meal wherever he happened to be at the time.

He didn't know where he was, or what had brought him there. Everything was faint and unclear, like the hours leading up to his dissatisfactory slumber had been sucked straight out of his mind.

He wasn't alone, that much was clear.

As his vision cleared up with his increasing consciousness, Taeyong could make out a faint dark figure in front of him, shaded by the fluorescent light hung behind it. It was distinctly human, to his dissatisfaction. It shifted slightly ever so slightly, gradually gaining more colour as his eyes adjusted to the light. He could see the messy, short hair on top of the figure's head, a mixed palette of black and smoke-grey, and the outline of a luxury suit and tie. The golden Namjeong Clan pin on the figure's lapel revealed more than anything else about the mysterious figure—he wasn't mysterious at all, it was Patriarch Lim.

Taeyong wasn't sure whether he should've been glad that the figure was a familiar face, or he should've been cursing whatever sick twist of fate had brought him to that situation. The latter was more viable.

Taeyong's memories flooded back into his mind like a tsunami at the sight of the older man. He'd seen mercy. He'd refused to kill a horrid, disgraceful man because of his child. A young son, perhaps only four or five. He was in the man's office, playing with his dinosaur figurines when he'd set his scope. He saw him run over to his father's desk with a large, unshakable smile on his face. He couldn't kill a man as his son was watching. He had his own set or morals to follow.

No man in the Namjeong Clan appreciated his mercy. It was insubordination, and he had to pay for his disobedience. Taeyong knew that.

"You've really gone and fucked up this time, pup. A brother's family requested this from you, yet you failed to do your job. That wasn't a nice thing for you to do," said Patriarch Lim as he shook his head. "I've never regretted bringing you into the Clan, not even now. But you've put a stain on my image. Our image. I can't have you do that again, can I? I'm the Clan joke right now."

"I can fix it. I'll deal with Patriarch Nam, and I'll... I'll redo the hit, and I'll get it right this time!" said Taeyong, his lip quivering as he spoke. "Just give me some time, and it'll be done. I promise."

"He's angrier than you think, pup. I don't think an apology is going to cut it. I've invited him here for you, anyway. I knew you'd see sense. You're great like that. If you mess up, you want to fix it," said the older man, and he leaned forward and connected their lips, trailing his hand through Taeyong's short black hair. "I knew I could count on you."