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AKA THE TIME THEY ENTERED A MOUSETRAP... WILLINGLY
"WELL OBVIOUSLY IT has to be cannibals," Grayson moaned in despair. His stomach churning in intervals ever since he woke up this morning knowing what kind of people he was going to deal with. "And people's... insides. Because what else is inside nice pink packages? Rings? Flowers? Gifts? Nooo. It has to be people's fucking insides."
Minwoo patted him without much remorse. They sat together in an inconspicuous car, facing a hospital of great repute. If any of it's shiny glass exterior and heavily manned guards - not to mention, rows of expensive cars coming in and out in almost clockwise interval - was to dictate anything.
"Rich people really be whack," Grayson muttered.
"It's a legitimate hospital if it's any consolation to your stomach. And for rich people yes, exclusive to those who can pay some really extensive prices for difficult surgeries usually. It also hosts a cancer research group, a recovery center for ex-athletes and drug-addled celebrities, and I think an indoor infinity pool."
Grayson sighed despite his unease. "Money does make life grander."
"Hmm."
"When are we going in?"
"At a time." Minwoo checked his watch. "As long as the Madam holds her end of the bargain, I don't think we'll be short on moments with people eaters."
Grayson bemoaned at the mention again, while Minwoo smirked. For someone who appeared constantly, annoyingly cheerful with fists that could slap a man into another realm - a boy who has seen almost as much as him, his hamartia was people's insides?
Honestly.
A few more minutes and a sharp rapt came from the driver's window. The two turned and the madam's right hand man, a scarred, willowy man without much of an expression, Minwoo rolled the windows down and and Grayson managed a cheerful wave despite looking parlours paler.
"Hello Mr. Wen." Minwoo was only polite in front of sharks and snakes, those dripping with the same kind of toxins and poisons as he does.
Like comes to like.
"Mr. Park." His voice, like his face, sounded scratched and scarred. Grayson only knew of one thing that could make a voice sound like that - well several things, but the first thing that came to mind is drinking bleach.
"You have half an hour," he continued the pre-established plan. Niceties were for idiots. "If you don't come out without the Madam by them, we come in barrelling guns. No spares."
No spares. No survivors. Not even them.
Minwoo already knew that, but he nodded solemnly nevertheless. "Wouldn't dream of it." Then got out of the car, Grayson in tow, and roved his eye quickly through the black cars that surrounded the little burger joint they parked at. Each one had no plate number, tinted to the souls of the damned, and one that had the insignia of one of the North East clans, contained the Madam.
