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NOVEMBER 2018
The day Jimin and Nari return from Japan
SEO JAESEOK'S MANSION
Cheongdam-dong, Seoul
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EVEN UNDER JAESEOK'S knife-like stare, Jimin finds it in himself to laugh.
"I know this a serious situation and all," he begins, breaking the silence, "but why is Kim Changho here? He makes me laugh."
Changho bristles. Jaeseok narrows his eyes. "That's not funny."
"You're right. It's not. It's embarrassing." Jimin's smile vanishes. "He made a fool of himself trying to threaten my girlfriend."
"Don't lie," snaps Jaeseok. "Nari is nothing to you."
Something dark flickers across Jimin's face.
The three men stand in a crooked triangle in the center of Seo Jaeseok's living room. If you could even call it that--living room was an understatement, with its glimmering floors of pristine marble, the ceiling arching overhead, the glass walls rimmed with light, like gaping mouths lined with diamond teeth. Only three things furnish the room: a sleek Steinway grand piano, a low tea table, and a charcoal-black couch.
Jaeseok's mansion is a geometric palace of inner gardens and grassy balconies, seated at the top of a luxurious hill on the outskirts of Gangnam. It has a kind of Japanese feel to it--the fragrance of oolong and buckwheat waft through frowning halls, and outside a labyrinth of bonsai trees shield them from a glamorous view of Seoul. Near the piano stands Jaeseok himself, his hands clasped behind his back. His sagging skin elongates his face. His thick brows are drawn low. He watches with hawk's eyes.
Jimin's heart pounds in his throat, but he can't tell if it's from fear or from anger. Something black stirs inside him as he thinks of Changho's cold sneer in that bar, the way the man snapped at Nari when she'd knocked the glass from his hand.
Junho's silver chain sways rebelliously against Jimin's chest as he takes a seat on the couch. He might as well make himself at home.
"I don't have all day," he begins boldly, savoring the way Jaeseok's eyes darken at the necklace. "Why am I here?"
