The Rise of Bangtan

Chapter 1

Sihyuk. Day 1, Midnight

The lift doors whispered open. I stepped out on to the cold marble flooring and walked down the corridor. The spindly metal-and-glass skyline of Seoul glimmered just beyond the tall glass windows, lit up with thousands of lights like stars fallen to earth.

A million-dollar view on any other day, but today I was not in the mood.

The meeting had taken up most of the afternoon and a fair chunk of the evening. It had, to put it mildly, not gone well. I used my key card and punched in the security code, sighing in relief as the warm glow of evening lights bathed the wide entryway with the living room and den off to one side. Coming home to this place always felt like a soothing balm.

"As well it might," I muttered. "I pay enough for the privilege."

I headed straight for the mini-bar and poured myself two - make that three - fingers of Chivas.   I shuddered and sighed in satisfaction, eyes closed, as the alcohol flowed down my throat like liquid fire, massaging my raw nerves. A long way from pennies in the streets and that foul fake whisky we drank like water, I thought. Indeed it was...

Eyes still closed, I didn't see the shadow that silently detached itself from the heavy window drapes behind me and approached.

At the last minute I felt the back of my neck prickle and wheeled around, my heart bounding into my mouth. Thirty-year-old Scotch slopped over my glass to spatter on the floor as I gazed, wide-eyed, at the shadowy figure that had materialized a few feet away.

A low chuckle. "Careful, Sihyuk-hyung. I'm sure that doesn't come cheap."

I spluttered and almost choked as the voice registered on my senses. No. It couldn't be.

"You better watch it," it said. "My mouth-to-mouth skills aren't what they used to be."

The figure moved into the light.

* * *

"Yoongi," I breathed.

"In the flesh." Another chuckle. "Though you look like you've seen a ghost."

This wasn't very far from the truth. Even under the warm lighting Yoongi was deathly pale. Below the rumpled and unkempt crow's nest of his hair his eyes were strangely hooded, the skin under them looking like faded bruises.

"Yoongi," I repeated.

"That's still my name, last I checked."

That broke the last of my shocked paralysis. "Are you f... are you kidding me?"

"Kidding?" Yoongi's pallid features assumed a wide-eyed innocent look. "What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean," I snapped. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"On holiday," Yoongi replied, deadpan.

"On h –" I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. It took a minute to get a hold of myself. "No one. Has heard from you. In seven... fucking... months. Now you show up here looking like the ghost of fucking Christmas future, talking about holidays? Have you seen the headlines, for fuck's sake? You're supposed to be dead!"

"Apparently I'm supposed to be a lot more than that." Yoongi's hand came out from behind him and he threw something at me. I recoiled as the newspaper struck my chest and thumped to the floor, flopping open to the first page.

'BANGTAN BETRAYAL: SUGA TRAITOR OR COWARD?' the banner headline screamed in seventy-two-point type.

* * *

I looked up from the rumpled pages to Yoongi's face. "What did you expect?" I replied defensively. "Huh? Vanishing right in the middle of recording your biggest album in five years? A month before your third world tour? Without a word?"

"Your concern is so touching." Yoongi's face was perfectly expressionless. "And here I was just starting to think it was all about the money."

I kept silent.

"No wonder your hands were shaking - all that stress over the absence of a dearly beloved employee."

"Shut up, Yoongi," I barked, turning to pour myself another two fingers - I'd drained my glass without being aware of it. "You gave me a hell of a fright just now, that's all. It's bad manners to sneak into someone's ho –"

I felt a flutter behind me and whirled again, to see Yoongi standing less than a foot away. I hadn't even heard him move.

"The f –"

"I don't mean just now," Yoongi said in a deadly quiet voice that brushed fingers of ice up and down my spine. "I meant at your little meeting. You were shaking. Why, you nearly spilled Evian all over your trousers."

"What the fuck? How did you –" I could feel the blood drain from my face. Yoongi's eyes focused on my throat like lasers; I knew he could see my pulse hammering away there. I wanted to faint.

"Which..." I cleared my throat. "Which meeting?"

"Let's not play this game. All right? We both know where you've been since two o'clock this afternoon."

"You were watching me?" My head was pounding. "Is that what you've been doing? Sneaking around watching people? Do your Bangtan Boys know about your new spying career? You little son of a..."

My voice trailed off as Yoongi stepped even closer, his eyes drilling into mine with frightening intensity.

"Careful." His voice had dropped into a gravelly rumble. "Or I might forget how happy I am to see you. You wouldn't want that."

Before I could reply Yoongi turned and glided away from me. "I'm going to leave now," he said over his shoulder. "I've got things to do and people to see. Besides, you look like you could use some R&R."

He turned back at the door. "You don't mind if I take this, do you?" He was holding the open bottle of Chivas. "After all, I kind of paid for it."

How the fuck had he reached around me and taken it unnoticed?

How the fuck was any of this happening?

"Well, I'll be seeing you. Go easy on the sauce, now. You've got a company to run." In one fluid motion he tilted the bottle to his lips, opened the door and disappeared.

I drained my second glass, fumbled open another bottle and poured myself a third with unsteady hands. I found my leather easy-chair and collapsed into it, loosening my tie and kicking off my loafers. My glance fell on the newspaper lying where I'd left it, a corner of Yoongi's radiant face in better times still visible.

Only then did it occur to me to wonder how he'd got into my penthouse in the first place. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead despite the air conditioning.

"Fuck."

* * *