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Taehyung has just walked into the lion's den. Literally.
The entrance to the office space was nothing short of luxurious; as grand as it was modern. An array of traditional design insignia littered the walls which glowed golden, reflecting beams of light from an oculus protruding against the skyline somewhere up above. The corners of the room were lined with various vegetation, a spring of water flowing freely on the outskirts of the room. Taehyung swore he saw fish swimming along the narrow spaces between the walls and corners of the floor tiling.
The granite floor echoed of Taehyung's footsteps as he edged towards the expansive set of double doors promising no chance of return.
The doors were unapologetically domineering over the entrance hallway. These very doors were what hinted at the whole 'predatory king of the jungle' aura of the space that lies beyond. They were painted in shades of red and gold which framed a design worthy of a centerpiece in a museum or perhaps the silk of a prince's warrior gown. The entire affair screamed money, rank, and power. King.
With these thoughts in mind, Taehyung halted by the door, his confidence shattered by the imposing creature depicted on the handles. It resembled a lion, with a singular horn protruding from the head, thick trunks for legs and enigmatic eyes. The animal was painted in blazing gold, the light flickering so brilliantly Taehyung presumed it was nothing short of 24 karats.
He was disrupted from further examination by a muffled command coming from behind the doors.
"Come in, Sparrow." An invitation in a familiar cadence laced with a deep baritone.
Taehyung took a moment to compose his frantic expression. The lines of fatigue and stress morphed away into a habitual mask devoid of the anxiety he felt in the pit of his stomach. Taehyung took a deep breath and opened the majestic doors.
If the entrance hall was a sight for sore eyes, the office space concealed within was by far a more superior architectural marvel, Taehyung thought in amazement. The floor continued the polished marble theme from the entrance hall, stretching to meet the junctures of the wall and ceiling with dark grey concrete spanning its length. The entirety of the central wall was made out of glass, the expanse of the woodland forest outside being displayed with panoramic views. The cold grey tones fused into the gigantic center granite work-desk, its sheer size dwarfing any other furniture scattered minimalistically around the room.
The entire space was as austere and cold as the man sitting at its heart.
"Ah, the legendary Kim Tae-hyung," he enunciated, voice marred with the heavy rasp characteristic of a lifetime chain smoker, or a jazz singer akin to Sinatra or Gaye. "I must admit, finding you was a challenge that vexed me for quite some time. I almost gave up, actually," he took a pause, as if recalling the memory of such a time. "Yet here you stand." He offered a smile cold enough to wilt roses in its wake.
"In the flesh, Jeon-nim," agreed Taehyung, offering a small smile of his own and a complimentary bow of the head. "And why, may I ask, am I standing here?"
Jeon took a moment to ponder this question, as if debating whether to indulge Taehyung's curiosity. His head tilted to the side, and his fingers drummed a staccato beat on the granite surface below them.
"Well it's quite simple Taehyung-ssi. I gather that you happen to be in need of some work, and I am in desperate need of a laborer." He smirked at this, as if amused by his own analysis. Taehyung spotted a dimple lining his cheek as he did so, and that fact seemed to shock him more than anything else about his strange countenance. It looked strangely... off-kilter to his persona. "The way I see it, you're in a predicament and I am just the man to help you get out of it. Similarly to how you can help me with my little problem. A win-win situation. A symbiosis of sorts." He concluded with a careless gesture of preponderance in a wave of his hand.
"Is that so?" Taehyung clicked his tongue, keeping at that lightness. "And what if I am unable to provide the type of labor are you requiring, sir? I am sure I am not qualified enough for a man of your... caliber."
"Worry not, child. You are just the man for the job, from what I've gathered." Jeon rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "The only man, perhaps."
"I wasn't aware I had such fond spectators of my career, sir." Taehyung attempted to jest, his fingers curling inwards as they trembled with the insinuation. This man in front of him was dangerous, and Taehyung knew that joking could take him down the wrong road; one leading to ditches and severed limbs.
He knew this, yet he couldn't help it: he rambled when he was nervous. Sue me, he thought.
"Ah, yes! Your career is precisely why you are here, my son. You, Mister Sparrow, have quite the reputation from your clientele, nothing but glowing reviews and commendations," he said, inching his brow up as if he were impressed. "I respect that in a man. Loyalty. The ability to perform, time and again, with no mistakes."
"It's always good to meet fans of my work." Taehyung would have been pleased, if he didn't feel like falling to his knees and trembling at the feet of this dangerous, dangerous man. The look in his eye, whether smirking or just thinking was unhinged as his son's had been, yet more reserved, as if keeping the violence at bay. More controlled.
"You are just what I need for this position," he continued, as if he either didn't pick up on or simply didn't care to acknowledge Taehyung's audible gulp of terror. "You see my son, Jeongguk, is the inheritor to the empire of Gwanlija arms and weaponry. He is only eighteen, at the moment, but he has been getting the proper grooming to step up to be my successor when the time comes." Jeon spoke slowly but surely, as if expecting Taehyung to be absorbing this intel.
But Taehyung had lost all ability to keep up after the mention of the word Gwanlija. Protectors. That is what it meant in its pure linguistic form, but the connotation, the sheer power that came attached implicitly to the namesake was enough to make the blood drain from his face.
"Sit down son," Jeon ordered, gesturing to the chair opposite his own on the other end of the expansive desk. Taehyung obliged, although it wasn't really up to him with the way the command had been phrased. He was thankful for the opportune concealment the desk provided for his trembling legs as they sunk in to the leather of the arm chair.
"Now tell me, what do you know about the Gwanlija, Taehyung?" Jeon asked, his body leaning forward as if unable to contain his curiosity in stillness.
"I know only the essentials, sir," Taehyung began. "They are the biggest supplier of all artillery to the underground gangs of Seoul, although they also maintain partnerships with government agencies in Korea and Japan. Their importers range from Dubai to the United States of America, with a stock market cap of roughly 150 trillion won. (read: About 135 billion USD) They maintain a familial hierarchy, and are most closely affiliated with the Busan and Incheon Kkangpae gangs." That concluded his concise pretense of knowledge, his tongue withholding any further incriminating details.
"Some essentials, those are! You have certainly done your homework Sparrow. You must have had some prior knowledge of our existence for such a colorful description," he interrogated, his praise raking disconcerting shivers over Taehyung's spine.
"No, sir. Someone of my, erm, position, has to be well informed in all matters pertaining to clientele and their ventures." Taehyung defended quickly, unwilling to rouse suspicion from the cutting eyes across from him.
"You know enough to get yourself in trouble, young man, but you remain correct on all accounts. We are the supplier of all artillery on this turf, but we also represent something money and ammunition can't buy... We protect the streets. How do I put it?" His voice trailed off, as if lost in a maze of his own thoughts. "That creature you were looking at on the door earlier, do you know what it is?" he posed the question, voice slow and insinuating.
Taehyung ignored the (terrifying) prospect of having been watched in the hallway, and focused on his answer.
"I believe it was a portrayal of the Haechi, sir. Its design was heavily influenced by Joseon architecture, making me presume it was painted with details replicated from Gyeongbok Palace?" he hypothesized, recalling the golden lines of the mythical body contours.
"Another aspect of your clientele's ventures?" Jeon questioned with a satirical smirk.
"No, just a personal affliction for pretty things," retorted Taehyung, unable to help his clipped tone. He hated being mocked, and even if unintentional, every word of Jeon's dripped with overdone platitude.
Jeon was seemingly unbothered by this brashness, and nodded in reply. "The haechi originally was an animal, sort of a hybrid between a lion and a watchdog, often symbolizing justice. Said to eat fire, they were constructed at the entrances to buildings and palaces to prevent them from burning down. They protect against not only fire and natural disasters, but also all disruption or disruptive change, which is why they were rumored to eat newborns as well." Jeon added in a jesting tone.
Taehyung offered another bow to acknowledge the joke, but his mind reeled with the implications of his words.
"The Gwanlija are like the haechi, Taehyung. We serve to protect the peace and prosperity of all of Seoul. Unlike the military force or the gangs, we are never the hands of destruction, merely the suppliers of such means. By controlling who we sell to we can thus prevent the tides of meaningless violence on the streets as well as manipulating the market for profit. A monopoly, of sorts." Jeon was smiling the entire time, as if describing a favorite child of his to a friend. "Kind of like you, son, with your Robin Hood ways," he concluded with a wink.
Taehyung must've lost his facial control, because Jeon was quick to laugh at his expression.
"We make peace in world where violence is the only means to an end," he explained. Taehyung forced himself to return the smile he was being sent, but his skin crawled under the elder's scrutinizing stare.
"I want you to work for me, Taehyung, because, simply put, you are the best at your game, and my son's life needs to be protected by someone no less than the best." Jeon's eyes crinkled at the corners at the mention of his son, but his expression remained impassive as he drove his point home, leaving Taehyung in a whiplash of uncertainty.
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Someone was waiting for Taehyung in the entrance hall as he stepped out of the office space. It was a man, slightly taller than Taehyung, with broad shoulders and a slim build. His hair was a mix of light browns and blondes, mixing into a light curtain framing his handsome face.
Because Taehyung was confident enough in his own masculinity to admit that this man was more handsome than most people he has seen in his life. That included the actors who sought him out for a job in the past, relating to an array of messy insider scandals percolating the K-idol industry.
He was also wearing huge black sunglasses that engulfed the upper part of his face, making it hard to see any trace of emotion in that striking face. Those depths of black reflected his own face as Taehyung approached the man.
"You must be Kim Seokjin-ssi? Jeon told me to meet with you for-" Taehyung began in a gesture of greeting.
The man offered him no introduction or response, rising from his lounge to turn on his heel and walk out of the door. Taehyung stared after his disappearing form, unsure what to do with himself.
"Come along now, Sparrow," the man called back at him from the path beyond the rapidly closing door, articulate and clear as a bell. Taehyung hurried to catch up to the retreating man.
"We are meeting in the lower atrium at precisely 14 o'clock, where we will be departing by coach to Park house." The voice continued without skipping a beat, as if he was unaware of Taehyung's exertion to keep up with his pace, or simply unbothered by it. "The destination is in central Busan, so we will arrive there around 16:00. Your first task is to greet the youngest Jeon at the reception, and then proceed to remove him from the event and return here by 20 o'clock. Failure to do so will be reported to Jeon the elder, who will decide on a punishment for neglecting your first mission. Understood?" The man finally turned around to face a breathless Taehyung, who had managed to absorb approximately sixty percent of the monologue.
They were standing in front of a closed door, its mahogany wood promising opulence and comfort to lie beyond. Before Taehyung could even form a reply, the man swung open the door and ushered him in with an impatient hand movement.
"You must change into presentable dress first. Choose any formal attire from that," he pointed to the giant walk in closet on the far right corner of the enormous room, "wardrobe. Do everything I instruct and all will be well. Oh and," the man made his way to the door, pausing in the doorway as something occurred to him, "don't be late, Sparrow." With that, he turned and vanished as quickly as he had first appeared.
Taehyung was stunned on his feet. He collapsed on the nearest bit of furniture, a settee with plush cushions more comfortable than his own bed back at home, and took a moment to absorb.
After a brief description of job responsibilities and functions, Jeon had offered a letter of binding contract outlining the legalities and formalities of pay. Taehyung took out this letter from his inner coat pocket and burned to unpin the mask and delve into the details outlining his proposal. After a glance at the clock, however, he realized that he had less than twenty minutes to become 'presentably dressed', as Seokjin had dutifully reprimanded him. He wistfully placed the letter back into his coat pocket, promising to deconstruct its components whenever he had more time.
He spent the next eighteen minutes performing the minutiae of presentability. That act entailed familiarizing himself with the complex bathroom technology equipped with gadgets worthy of spaceship motherboards, as well as staring at the abundance of clothes in the wardrobe/ dressing room/ bigger-than-his-apartment-complex walk in closet. He wistfully stared at the double G's and C's before deciding on a more practical white turtleneck and trench coat with dark combat pants, paired with his own boots (he was hoping he would need the internal dagger storage on the off-chance he got his weapons back). He looked dressy if one looked hard enough, he presumed, but style was never preferred over comfort in Taehyung's priorities.
He bounded down the stairs after spotting the hands of the clock dangerously close to its quarter apex, with his own discarded shirt and jacket hanging over the crook of his elbow. He managed to scout an atrium like shape from a birds-eye view of the house on the ramp between the twin suspended staircases curving into the second floor. He could see Seokjin there, along with three other men, two of whom he had the displeasure of meeting before.
"Sorry I'm late, this place is like an architecturally-brilliant state of the art maze. Also, can I have a bag for my clothes, they're ruining my 'acceptable dress' facade," he joked, air-quoting the words Seokjin had directed to him earlier.
"There's no facade to ruin, Taehyung-ssi." Seokjin retorted, eyes no longer obscured by glasses scanning Taehyung's outfit with obvious displeasure. "And you could have left your clothes, oh I don't know, maybe in your room?" he scolded, gesturing to a maid nearby to come collect his belongings. Taehyung blanched.
"Oh no, I don't mind carrying these," he quickly deterred the lady with a slight bow and a withdrawal of his carrying arm from her reach. "And maybe I would have left them there if I had been told it was my room in the first place. But I guess hospitality wasn't built into the design of such a fine place." Taehyung offered a tight smile with his words, reflecting his own pent up annoyance at the light-haired man.
"Enough. We are going to be late as it is, no time for banter, kids," a displeased deep voice remarked from his flank, Yoongi coming up with a scowl etched into his face. Hoseok followed on his heels, both dressed in dark suits with fur coats for outerwear.
Seokjin blew the glowering man a kiss while flipping him off at the same time and Hoseok chuckled from his side. They all left together, making their way to the underground garage with quick steps. They were accompanied by another stout man clad in dark tones with a stoic expression. A driver, Taehyung presumed.
They split up into two parties; Seokjin, the driver, and Taehyung piling into a black Cadillac SUV, while Yoongi and Hoseok took a black Maserati for themselves. (Taehyung practically drooled at the sleek beauty of the sports car.) When Taehyung inquired for the reasoning of such a split, Seokjin was so kind to reply with an exasperated sigh in his general direction from his passenger seat. The driver had laughed as if they were in on some joke Taehyung wasn't a part of, and the atmosphere retreated into its previous radio silence.
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The sun was setting when they pulled up to Park house in Busan, and Taehyung was once again left dumbstruck by the sheer magnitude of the property, let alone the opulence of the courtyard encircled by a cobblestone driveway lined with parked luxury cars. The house glowed in hues of blue and yellow from the inside, projecting shades of those colors onto the grass and trees. The giant steps leading into the house were lined with a red carpet, a tongue-like entrance lolling out of the doorway.
If Cinderella were to pop out with a missing slipper, this would be the place for it to happen, thought Taehyung in silent wonder.
He exited the car behind Seokjin after the driver had pulled to a stop, and followed the man's confident strides. Seokjin walked around like he knew the owner, if he himself didn't happen to own the place, and left turning heads in his wake. The hermit crab in Taehyung's nature complained at the magnet of attention he provided, wanting nothing more than to fit in with the corners of the lavish halls instead of jump out like an idol on a red carpet.
He hated to admit it, but Seokjin had been right about his attire. It wasn't awful, but it was in no way up to par with the ball gowns and tuxedos he spotted on the passing crowd. He put on his mask of indifference, however, and strided confidently with his chin raised like his grandmother had once taught him to do, his locks bouncing with each pace.
"Seokjin! Long time no see Mr.World-wide... And who is this?" greeted a chirpy voice coming up to intercept their movement into the house. The man whom the voice belonged to was shorter, about Yoongi's height, with pale pink hair and light makeup on his face. He was also wearing a black suit, with an exposing slimmer of bare golden chest in the V neck line.
"The new body guard. He's a temp, for now, but Jeon wanted to try him out. He's on his first mission here." Seokjin barely gave him a glance by way of introduction, so Taehyung took matters into his own hands.
"Hello Jeongguk-ssi, I wanted to introduce myself," Taehyung cast a dark look at his guide, "properly, I am Kim Taehyung, I will be working for your father to protect you from harm. Support me, please." He ended with a slight bow of the head to the slight, and now smiling, man in front of him.
"How cute!" The pink haired man cheered, his smile making his eyes dissappear under the slide of his cheeks. "He's more friendly than the last one at least, and cuter for sure. How did Jeon find you?" He spoke about Taehyung so freely to Seokjin, as if gossiping about the new bodyguard although he was right in front of them. Taehyung felt his cheeks burn with abashment for being spoken about so directly, and he straightened his back before responding as if to cast away any slights of composure.
"Jeon-ssi was kind enough to hire me for contract based on 'glowing reviews'," Taehyung began, attempting to clear the mood with a dominating stance in the conversation about himself. "He thought it would be fitting for me to protect you with my life." He tried to make that part sound less apathetic, but his efforts went unnoticed by the two men in front of him, who chuckled at his condescending tone.
"So he gave you the 'join or die' talk? Shit made me almost piss my pants the first time I heard it," Seokjin supplied, his own mask of stoicism falling away to one of displeasure as he recalled that memory.
"Well, to make your transition easier in my home, Taehyung-ssi, tell me; what is your first mission, then?" the man inquired, his face softening with a look of empathy.
"To take you home." Taehyung responded. Without thinking. He proceeded to flush from crown to neck at the implications of his words.
Seokjin and the man must have found it amusing, however, because they burst into a fit of laughter of epic proportions. They attracted attention with their high-pitched soprano and alto jeers, as onlookers turned to stare at the commotion. They seemed either unaware or unfazed by the attention.
"Well, this is my home Taehyung-ssi, and getting into my bed will certainly not help you with any of the Jeons." The man chuckled at his own reference, sending Seokjin a funny look. "My name is Park Jimin, of the Busan Parks, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Kim Taehyung." He outstretched his hand, which Taehyung noticed was considerably smaller than his own, and grinned up at Taehyung, who accepted his hand dazedly.
Once again, Taehyung was left a blabbering fool in front of his crowd, so he quickly excused himself for some refreshments before he could make an even bigger idiot out of himself.
He ordered an apple-juice, straight, and propped his head up on his hands in thought as he awaited his signature drink.
He just met a Busan Park, and he was in their home, no less. That means, Taehyung pondered, this place was crawling with them. He accepted his drink and settled into the corner seat of the bar to have a better vantage point of the room.
There were two types of crowds present. The first were the famous people. They were scattered in pairs and triplets, either idols or successful entertainment moguls with pretty girls on their laps smoking ridiculous cigars. They perforated the room like centerpieces, points of reference for the second type of main guests in attendance: the gang members. They were obvious, now that Taehyung knew what to look for. Dark outfits, crumpled expressions, large groups, barely concealed weapons transparent if you looked hard enough.
The Busan Parks; vicious mob gangsters that ruled the lower Gyeongnam region of Korea. They specialized in military forces; hitmen, assassins, foot-soldiers for turf wars and such. Their main supplier, fittingly enough, was the Gwanlija in Seoul; although they were also closely allied with the Daegu Lees. Taehyung almost shivered at the tug of the name in his memory.
He sipped his juice, eyeing those who posed the most direct correlation to himself. He spotted Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seokjin. All affiliated with the Gwanlija, not gang members, but fiercely loyal to their lifestyle. They were a family. His eyes latched onto Park Jimin, the second acquaintance he made today, a direct descendant of the main Park family, he was sure of it. The way the shorter man carried himself around the room reinforced his comfort and ownership in the house, although he never strayed too close to the gang members themselves. He was a middle man, serving as a buffer of sorts, between the underlying stratification of the social climate. He radiated filthy rich energy, and his social etiquette was as rehearsed as it was natural. Chaebol.
Which left him with one last, and most important, acquaintance to make for the night, Jeon-
"You should quit while you're ahead," a suggestive tone breached his contemplation. Taehyung observed the slender fingers that lifted his own drink from his unsuspecting hands, being brought up to cherry pink lips of a young man. He took a sip, tantalizingly slow, seeming to turn his tongue over the concentrate in his mouth. He threw his head back as he downed the remnants of the drink, and Taehyung watched, entranced, as the columns of his pharynx shifted while he swallowed.
"Pardon me, but don't you know it's dangerous to stare at strangers, ahjussi?" The man smirked at Taehyung's dumbstruck expression, eyes glinting with mirth at having caught him.
"Not as dangerous as drinking from a stranger's glass. Not to mention that it is also considered rude, by some accounts. Don't you know that, mister-?" Taehyung retorted, his eyes shifting lazily to observe the attire of the man before him. He was dressed in black, head to toe, but his black leather jacket and skinny jeans were anything but the formal attire this event called for. Taehyung registered the pale complexion of the boy before him (because he seemed to be as youthful as adolescents came), as it clashed dramatically with his dark ensemble. His skin looked pure, cared for, unused; unmarred. It was not fit for the harshness of a gangster's life, so Taehyung pinned him for the other type present at this function; an asshole with fame and money.
The boy only smiled at his attempt for a name to call him by, offering no relief to Taehyung's inquiry.
"Rude is just a word housemaids came up with to validate spanking their annoying kids... it has no place in our context, don't you agree?" He seemed to be deep in thought about something as he leaned his side on the raised bar perch, crossing his legs at the ankles.
Taehyung smirked before leaning his head back on the wall of the bar corner to better observe the boy.
"Not at all. Although rudeness has a place in every context, it can be more harmful in some than others. Like you, taking my drink, for example. not only have you subjected yourself to whatever diseases my saliva has to offer, but also to the possibly detrimental effects of alcohol on the young and foolish. Didn't your mother tell you to be a good boy and stick to your banana milk?" Taehyung indulged his own annoyance by making a show of spitting into the nearest bouquet pot.
The boy's eyes glittered with chagrin and something else, as he took in the elder's actions.
"I trust that my banana milk will taste just as sweet and harmless as this apple juice. And as for your saliva," He then proceeded to retaliate by licking a stripe down the circular rim of the empty glass, Taehyung's empty glass, all the while staring defiantly into Taehyung's eyes. "Well, it tastes even better."
Taehyung almost choked on his next inhale as his cheeks warmed in frustration and annoyance at the blasé attitude of this rude encounter. He looked around himself wildly, as if waiting for someone else to notice the preposterous nonchalance the younger male was putting on display.
"Look, kid, I don't have time to babysit you at the grown-ups bar, so why don't you run along and find another sandpit to play in. I'm sure you can lick the sand or whatever else you're not supposed to be licking there." Taehyung huffed his response in a blatant back-off signal, wanting this conversation to be entirely over.
The boy looked at him funnily, tilting his nose to the side and scrunching his face up in a toothy smile. Taehyung dreaded his response before it even came.
"But Taehyung-ssi, babysitting me is precisely what my daddy hired you to do," the boy, none other than Jeon Jeongguk, whined in a tone of undeniable torment.
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