art of the kill || chensung

quatre

"Hm, well..." Jisung grinned down at his shoes. "I'm not good at conversations... Well, I was hoping someone could tell me a bit more about the CEO. You see, I haven't really done much research on him. My coming here was a bit last minute."

She tapped her chin, leaning back in her seat. Jisung stifled a sigh. He really hoped she wouldn't try to chase the friendship. "Well, you'd know the basics, his name, age and stuff — oh!" She leaned forward a little and Jisung listened with bated breath. "Did you know Zhong Chenle's mother died recently? He's — well, he's basically an orphan now. His dad died a few years ago. That's why he owns the company — but everybody knows that."

Jisung cocked his head. An orphan. The head of a company. A child. Loneliness. Leverage, leverage, leverage. He could look as serious as he wanted; Everybody had a weak spot.

"Does everyone know this? About his mom?"

She winced. "Actually, his mother and my mom were good friends." She looked around comically before speaking again. "It's kind of why I'm here."

Okay, thought Jisung, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose at her. There are people killing themselves for scholarships and job experiences and internships in places like these, but okay. He laughed and ducked his head sheepishly, as if he was the same, somehow.

"Say," said Jisung suddenly, stopping a little to think over how it would best be said in Mandarin. "If he's an orphan, where would he be living? He wouldn't be all by himself in a big house, would he?" Of course he would, he thought, shaking his head. He's basically an adult. What would she know?

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "He lives in the building, I'm pretty sure of that. Moved in here when his mother died."

Jisung stilled in surprise, then slouched when she looked at him strangely. "That's... so sad." She nodded sagely. Jisung wondered exactly who she was.

Jisung picked up his papers after checking his watch. "I've got to go, now. It was so nice meeting you." He paused, cringing inwardly. That entire conversation had been painful.

"Wait, what's your name?" Jisung resisted the urge to let loose a smoothly delivered uppercut.

"Han Yoonso."

He didn't stay long enough to ask her her's.

He went around like that a little longer. Apparently, everyone could warm up to young, pretty people with sweet personalities. He discovered nothing of more interest than what the first person had told him, except that Zhong's bodyguards could not be explained by anyone. They were there for no reason at all. He had never been attacked by rabid fans or haters and his father had been a relatively nice person. The information that his mother didn't have much to do with the company wasn't really anything of too much importance, but he knew that then too.

The guards leered from almost every hallway, as Jisung thought hard. The company had green policies and the workers were well treated — Nothing elicited any protection of this severity. Jisung was interested and pissed, to say the least.

He was noticing it more and more as he wandered around. They were stationed at certain doors, crowded into a few hallways. Some here, loads back there, none over there.

Jisung stopped walking. They were so fucking stupid. He turned around and started narrowing down his route to the places that had the most bodyguards. He followed them like they were trailmix, and they doubled in their numbers as he walked. Tripled, in some places. They were leading him right to Zhong's place, weren't they? 

His suspicions were confirmed when two of them stopped him from entering a certain hallway, shoulders together at the door.

"Why?" Jisung didn't peer, only smiled nervously and waited for an answer.