Angel Maker 2/27
title: Angel Maker
chapter rating: PG
warnings: mild language
summary: Mathematically gifted Oh Sehun makes a miscalculation that could cost him his life when he agrees to run an errand for an old high school acquaintance. The job brings Sehun face to face with much more than he'd bargained for and suddenly he has to question the binary makings of his existence, eventually ending up coming across the most delicate secret hosted by a quasi-governmental data bank.
story notes: See the foreword for more information on the story.
Sighing, he left the diner, its chessboard floor and the uncomfortable chairs. Entering the outside world felt overwhelming in a way: the streets were so full of noise, the night was thick and the air was quite cool compared to daytime. Like many stars the city was littered with lights, blinking and flashing, the static sound of the electric waves buzzing beneath the voices of people and passing vehicles. He stopped for a moment outside the diner to look around, buttoning up the cardigan, shivering as the air felt so cold on his skin. Compared to this, the diner had felt warm and nice.
Looking at the address for a moment Sehun thought of the best way to get there. In the end he figured he should take the subway. Ambling toward the station he kept wondering how urgent this business was: Jongin had actually come to ask him, in the dead of night, instead of taking the time to arrange anything. Couldn't Jongin have postponed meeting this client he'd mentioned? Sehun wondered what sort of a job it was the other was doing. He spoke of an office and had mentioned his boss too, he wore a nifty suit jacket and a button-up, but whatever the company was it let him tune up his belt and wear canvas sneakers and had him work such odd hours. What kind of an office was open at this time to call an employee to deal with some mess-up?
Sehun hurried down the stairs, passing by drunken girls and yelling guys and foreigners and all sorts of people, none of whom seemed to have anywhere to be but who were all going somewhere. He made it to the subway right before the doors slid shut. It was full and the brunette remained standing close to the exit as they slipped into the dark tubes running under the breathing city.
He hopped off at the station closest to where the address on the napkin was leading him, entering a world so different from that of the downtown: it was quiet, peaceful, there weren't many people. Upon exiting the station doors he saw a young couple hopping out of a cab, walking hand in hand and whispering to each other. He followed them for a few blocks and then took a sharp right across the road, coming further and further from the tall buildings and all the while deeper into a maze of a suburb. Even here neon signs hung off buildings, stating he was passing by hotels, restaurants and offices, but it seemed all of these places hosted apartments above them. It looked fairly modern. A scooter wheezed by. There was a bar; open with older men smoking outside and light rock tunes reaching his ears from inside. Here, Sehun looked somewhat out of place in his CA cap, cardigan and skinny light blue jeans: it was a little too secluded for a student to roam at night. He stopped slowly at a crossroads and pulled out his phone to check the address on the map. It stated he was almost there; taking a left and following the curving street he finally arrived to where Jongin had sent him.
He stood in front of the tallest building in sight, a small block of flats that appeared like it might've been built right after the war. The surrounding houses had been built close by, leaving almost no space between the walls. The front door was open. The first floor windows were large, but covered with shutters; those of the upper floors were just like any apartment building, but every drawn pair of curtains matched. High up on the roof there was a modern neon sign. Sehun stared at it, squinting a little to read it, apprehension bubbling in his throat as he finally got it.
A love hotel, of all places.
For a moment he truly regretted accepting this errand. He wondered whether Jongin was just being mean. Had there really been an urgent call and a mix-up with someone? Had he written the address wrong on purpose? It brought back the elementary school time memories of being teased over his bad pronunciation. Or maybe Jongin had thought this a good way to get Sehun out; maybe he still believed the little taller brunette had been loitering and felt like he might use some company, even as questionable as he might find here. Pursing his lips the young man checked his surroundings, both in case he'd just stopped at the wrong house and to make sure there were no people around. Seeing nobody he checked the phone map, confirming this was it. Hell, he though and gathered himself. This really wasn't his business, but he'd come all this way and Jongin owed him big time.
Stepping inside Sehun was quick to realize something was wrong. The place was quiet with lights on but with no people in sight. The reception was empty. The computer was on, but there was no sign of anyone having used it just a moment ago. He stood in the lobby, looking around: there were doorways to the first floor rooms, all closed with metal labels on them. Office, cleaning, so on. The lobby was a small rectangle with a sofa and a counter for the reception, phone books and maps lining the shelves behind it. There was an old landline phone. Above the sofa hung a billboard with various adverts pinned on it. Stepping closer he looked at a few; they were all sorts of announcements, ranging from call girl services to local football games. There was a lift and a staircase at the end. It looked much like the building had originally been built for apartments, and then later on been turned into a hotel. Although it appeared old it was well kept with new tiles on the floor and good wallpapers. The ceiling was fairly high up with plain halogen lamps running across it brightening up the otherwise slightly gloomy empty space. What was working here like, he wondered for a second, and then stepped to the counter to look for a sign of anybody having abruptly left to return in a minute.
He froze as he got close, eyes trained on the dark puddles: thick liquid on the regular office chair was dripping one drop at a time down onto the cool floor. It was all too major for an accident; no paper cut would cause this much bleeding. And there by the deep red lake of blood he could see a stained arm stick from under the counter. Sehun stepped back, palm pressed onto his lips, repeating a simple mantra in his head: don't throw up. Don't throw up. His head felt all too light all too fast.
What was he supposed to do? Call the cops? That would look brilliant: a lone student, ready to puke his gut out, and a body hidden under the receptionist's counter, in a secluded love hotel in the middle of a suburb. His mother might not be the worrying type, but she'd die of a heart attack hearing about something like this. Sehun let himself collapse down onto the boring leather sofa, his legs trembling uncontrollably. He was too busy trying not to vomit to even blame Jongin for sending him here. Oh, dear lord, had he known about this he wouldn't have drunk so much coffee, caffeine hurting his stomach now. No - had he known, he wouldn't have accepted the job in the first place.
There was a dull crashing sound from somewhere above. Sehun sat quiet, hand still over his lips, eyes open wide under the thick fringe. He wasn't alone. Thoughts ran through his head fast like a bullet train. Was there a murderer or some other sort of a dangerous criminal in here? Had he possibly ended up in the middle of some mafia war or such? What should he do? Leaving as quietly as he'd come was probably the best option, but his body felt heavy like stone and just the idea of standing up again was impossible to comprehend. Inside his head he screamed at his legs: stand up! But they wouldn't listen. His toes felt numb. Although his heart was pounding it was as if blood somehow hadn't reached anything below his knees.
A young man stepped down the stairs.
The situation could have been comical: to an onlooker it must've been amusing on some level to find Sehun there, seated awkwardly on the sofa, his body stiff and his fingers digging into his pale cheek. It could've been a scene from a movie. The camera would stand still displaying the lobby from the direction of the entrance, and to the viewer both Sehun and the male at the bottom of the staircase would've been visible, but one wouldn't have been able to see behind the counter; had the movie not focused on what was lying down there on the floor it could have been extremely hilarious. However in Sehun's mind it was clear as day what he'd seen on the floor, the blood that he could imagine hearing as little droplets hit the pool on the tiles.
Like it had been completely normal the male passed him by, not even glancing his direction. Sehun could've been air. Still feeling like his stomach could twist from just the mental images the brunette let his sweaty hand slip, slowly placing it on his lap, eyes following the man but not turning his head. This person was tall, his hair was pitch black, and his eyes narrow like a cat's. His movements were subtle, graceful; he was wearing all black, the trouser legs of his skinny jeans tucked inside a pair of black, well-kept army boots. His skin looked pearly under the sick white light of the halogens.
Sehun had the nerve to wish the person would step out and leave without paying any attention to him; maybe this was some serial killer with bad eyesight. If he'd stay put and quiet and wouldn't move any more maybe his life would be spared. He tried not to swallow and not to breathe too loud.
The hopes died quickly as the black clad male stopped at the entrance, casually leaning back against the frame of the door, eyes drifting to his direction. Cold chills ran down his back; swallowing Sehun remained silent, fingertips pressing into his thin thighs.
"You're not Kim Jongin", said the black haired male at last. His voice was soft, tender, light; even bright - everything Sehun hadn't expected. He articulated clearly, but his accent was foreign and thick, yet smooth like a song as he spoke the other male's name. Sehun swallowed again and again, his throat feeling dry and no amount of saliva helping to make it better.
"Yeah", he replied quietly and simply.
"Who are you?" asked the black haired male. Sehun stared at him, hardly daring to blink although his eyes stung. The other had a surprisingly pleasing face although his gaze was sharp and his features strong.
"I... Jongin... He asked me to..." Words weren't functioning in his system. His internal binaries were messed up to no end. Sehun felt like he'd been placed in a proof game of chess: from what he could gather about this situation, he was supposed to construct the flow of the events that had led here. He knew Jongin had told him to come here. He knew this person had waited for Jongin, but had found Sehun, instead. He knew there was a body under the counter. The last bit hardly helped. It only made him feel sicker.
Steps in the staircase attracted his attention. Quickly, not considering it might cost him his life, Sehun turned to look to the direction of the sound. Another person was coming down: a tall male came to his line of sight after a moment. Against Sehun's expectations he wasn't a sturdy looking guy, but a lanky young man wearing a bomber jacket over a shirt and a pair of casual skinny jeans and sneakers. His hair was light, most likely dyed. In one hand he held a few brown paper files, the other was tucked in the jacket pocket.
The male at the doorway spoke quietly, but Sehun couldn't understand the language. For a second he considered having lost his mind. Then, as the other replied he came to comprehend they simply weren't speaking Korean. Whatever it was they were discussing the man who had arrived last looked at Sehun only briefly, then stepped to the reception and placed the papers on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning one side against the wooden construction. His eyes were piercing, studying Sehun; the lobby grew quiet again as nobody spoke more.
Finally, beginning with a sigh, the lanky male said, "So, Jongin asked you to come here?"
Sehun bit his lip. This was an endgame checkmate with king and rook: the black clad male was the White rook, the other the White king, and Sehun, against his will, the cornered Black king.
"Yeah", he breathed out and balled his trembling hands into fists. "Uh…" His eyes drifted to where he knew the body was.
"That?" the White king tilted his head to the same direction. Sehun nodded ever so slightly. "Don't mind that. It was that way when we got here."
That hardly made him feel better, but at least Sehun could now tell himself these two weren't responsible and thus unlikely to hurt him. He brought his hands to fiddle with the strap of his bag, looking back and forth between the two. They were a somewhat strange pair. "So… Uh… Who…?"
"Kris." The White king pointed a finger at himself, and then nodded toward the rook at the doorway. "Tao. And you are…?"
"Sehun." He tried his best to not sound like he was still feeling lightheaded.
"Sehun", repeated Kris. He brushed a hand through his hair and sighed again. "Well, I take Jongin knows what the hell is he doing. You any good with data?"
Sehun nodded firmly. Anything as long as he didn't have to think about the body and the puddle of blood.
"Good", Kris said and crossed his arms again. "Are you with the System?"
The System? Sehun frowned. He'd never heard of a thing like that. "Uh… No?"
"No?" Kris looked toward Tao. Doubt was obvious on his face. For a moment Sehun felt afraid. The two men were looking at each other like they'd shared silent words, planning his demise. But instead of producing knives and guns, Kris shook his head and let a chuckle, and then said, "Oh, well, maybe that's for the better."
"What is this… System?" Sehun asked slowly.
Kris shrugged a shoulder. "We're busy people. Maybe next time."
Tao disappeared outside for a second; Sehun heard the front door close, and then he reappeared, closing the door to the vestibule as well. Kris picked up the files, nodding toward the staircase. "Come on. We don't have all night", he said. Pursing his lips into a line Sehun hesitatingly pushed himself off the sofa, his knees feeling funny and his toes full of pins and needles, but he managed somehow. Holding his bag strap with both hands, knuckles turning white, he followed the much taller light haired male up the stairs, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to find the black clad boy following a few steps behind them.
They climbed past the second floor and up to the third, where Kris led the way down a quiet corridor and to a room at the end of it. It was simply decorated with a wide, made bed with a dark wooden frame, peach colour sheets, small wooden tables on both sides of the bed and round table lamps set on each. There was also a table in front of the window and a total of four chairs one of which was placed by the wall further away. The floor was covered completely with soft dark carpet. All in all it was a very stylish room, but there was nothing very outstanding to it; it could've been put together by anyone. Sehun shuddered at the thought of what kinds of things usually happened here.
"Sit", the light haired male said firmly as he laid the files on the table. Sehun did as told, sliding to one of the chairs by the desk, placing his hands on the edge of it. He looked at Kris opening the paper files and taking out documents, then turned to gaze at the direction of Tao who remained at the doorway, looking ready and alert but not really anyhow nervous.
"Why... Uh. Why was Jongin called here?" Sehun asked at last as the silence was growing too much to bear. Kris looked at him quickly and continued arranging the papers. "He said there was a mess-up..."
"Oh?" The tall male let a laugh. "Well, maybe. A person was supposed to come here for a pick-up, but it went all wrong. You saw the body downstairs."
He really didn't want to think about that. Sehun nodded slightly and finally brought a hand to remove the CA cap; he put it aside on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. "So what happened...?"
"We were supposed to pick up something from that person", Kris shrugged, "but something happened and someone else showed up instead. Setup, mix-up, whatever you want to call it. Nevertheless the guy who did show up was pretty easy to negotiate some with, so we got this, and Jongin is a contact we assumed could give a hand with the numbers."
He tapped one of the papers with his finger and Sehun leaned in to have a better look. It was all a code, a paper full of data in compact form: binaries and decimal translations, but the more he looked at it the less it seemed to make sense. A deep frown formed on his face, and he looked up at Kris. "This is all messed up", he breathed out slow and quiet.
"You really don't know about the System", the light haired male said, but more to himself than to Sehun or even his companion at the door. "Impressive for a guy who's supposed to know the field."
"I'm just a student", Sehun mumbled a bit defensively. Kris only shrugged.
"Have a look at it. We need a translated draft. That's a bit illegible for the two of us."
"What is this supposed to be?"
"A document", said the black-clad male from the doorway.
Sehun huffed and rubbed his temples. Too many things were going on at once: Jongin, the body, these two, and the files set on the table. Constructing a shortest proof game was impossible.
Then, he focused to look at the data.
chapter rating: PG
warnings: mild language
summary: Mathematically gifted Oh Sehun makes a miscalculation that could cost him his life when he agrees to run an errand for an old high school acquaintance. The job brings Sehun face to face with much more than he'd bargained for and suddenly he has to question the binary makings of his existence, eventually ending up coming across the most delicate secret hosted by a quasi-governmental data bank.
story notes: See the foreword for more information on the story.
Sighing, he left the diner, its chessboard floor and the uncomfortable chairs. Entering the outside world felt overwhelming in a way: the streets were so full of noise, the night was thick and the air was quite cool compared to daytime. Like many stars the city was littered with lights, blinking and flashing, the static sound of the electric waves buzzing beneath the voices of people and passing vehicles. He stopped for a moment outside the diner to look around, buttoning up the cardigan, shivering as the air felt so cold on his skin. Compared to this, the diner had felt warm and nice.
Looking at the address for a moment Sehun thought of the best way to get there. In the end he figured he should take the subway. Ambling toward the station he kept wondering how urgent this business was: Jongin had actually come to ask him, in the dead of night, instead of taking the time to arrange anything. Couldn't Jongin have postponed meeting this client he'd mentioned? Sehun wondered what sort of a job it was the other was doing. He spoke of an office and had mentioned his boss too, he wore a nifty suit jacket and a button-up, but whatever the company was it let him tune up his belt and wear canvas sneakers and had him work such odd hours. What kind of an office was open at this time to call an employee to deal with some mess-up?
Sehun hurried down the stairs, passing by drunken girls and yelling guys and foreigners and all sorts of people, none of whom seemed to have anywhere to be but who were all going somewhere. He made it to the subway right before the doors slid shut. It was full and the brunette remained standing close to the exit as they slipped into the dark tubes running under the breathing city.
He hopped off at the station closest to where the address on the napkin was leading him, entering a world so different from that of the downtown: it was quiet, peaceful, there weren't many people. Upon exiting the station doors he saw a young couple hopping out of a cab, walking hand in hand and whispering to each other. He followed them for a few blocks and then took a sharp right across the road, coming further and further from the tall buildings and all the while deeper into a maze of a suburb. Even here neon signs hung off buildings, stating he was passing by hotels, restaurants and offices, but it seemed all of these places hosted apartments above them. It looked fairly modern. A scooter wheezed by. There was a bar; open with older men smoking outside and light rock tunes reaching his ears from inside. Here, Sehun looked somewhat out of place in his CA cap, cardigan and skinny light blue jeans: it was a little too secluded for a student to roam at night. He stopped slowly at a crossroads and pulled out his phone to check the address on the map. It stated he was almost there; taking a left and following the curving street he finally arrived to where Jongin had sent him.
He stood in front of the tallest building in sight, a small block of flats that appeared like it might've been built right after the war. The surrounding houses had been built close by, leaving almost no space between the walls. The front door was open. The first floor windows were large, but covered with shutters; those of the upper floors were just like any apartment building, but every drawn pair of curtains matched. High up on the roof there was a modern neon sign. Sehun stared at it, squinting a little to read it, apprehension bubbling in his throat as he finally got it.
A love hotel, of all places.
For a moment he truly regretted accepting this errand. He wondered whether Jongin was just being mean. Had there really been an urgent call and a mix-up with someone? Had he written the address wrong on purpose? It brought back the elementary school time memories of being teased over his bad pronunciation. Or maybe Jongin had thought this a good way to get Sehun out; maybe he still believed the little taller brunette had been loitering and felt like he might use some company, even as questionable as he might find here. Pursing his lips the young man checked his surroundings, both in case he'd just stopped at the wrong house and to make sure there were no people around. Seeing nobody he checked the phone map, confirming this was it. Hell, he though and gathered himself. This really wasn't his business, but he'd come all this way and Jongin owed him big time.
Stepping inside Sehun was quick to realize something was wrong. The place was quiet with lights on but with no people in sight. The reception was empty. The computer was on, but there was no sign of anyone having used it just a moment ago. He stood in the lobby, looking around: there were doorways to the first floor rooms, all closed with metal labels on them. Office, cleaning, so on. The lobby was a small rectangle with a sofa and a counter for the reception, phone books and maps lining the shelves behind it. There was an old landline phone. Above the sofa hung a billboard with various adverts pinned on it. Stepping closer he looked at a few; they were all sorts of announcements, ranging from call girl services to local football games. There was a lift and a staircase at the end. It looked much like the building had originally been built for apartments, and then later on been turned into a hotel. Although it appeared old it was well kept with new tiles on the floor and good wallpapers. The ceiling was fairly high up with plain halogen lamps running across it brightening up the otherwise slightly gloomy empty space. What was working here like, he wondered for a second, and then stepped to the counter to look for a sign of anybody having abruptly left to return in a minute.
He froze as he got close, eyes trained on the dark puddles: thick liquid on the regular office chair was dripping one drop at a time down onto the cool floor. It was all too major for an accident; no paper cut would cause this much bleeding. And there by the deep red lake of blood he could see a stained arm stick from under the counter. Sehun stepped back, palm pressed onto his lips, repeating a simple mantra in his head: don't throw up. Don't throw up. His head felt all too light all too fast.
What was he supposed to do? Call the cops? That would look brilliant: a lone student, ready to puke his gut out, and a body hidden under the receptionist's counter, in a secluded love hotel in the middle of a suburb. His mother might not be the worrying type, but she'd die of a heart attack hearing about something like this. Sehun let himself collapse down onto the boring leather sofa, his legs trembling uncontrollably. He was too busy trying not to vomit to even blame Jongin for sending him here. Oh, dear lord, had he known about this he wouldn't have drunk so much coffee, caffeine hurting his stomach now. No - had he known, he wouldn't have accepted the job in the first place.
There was a dull crashing sound from somewhere above. Sehun sat quiet, hand still over his lips, eyes open wide under the thick fringe. He wasn't alone. Thoughts ran through his head fast like a bullet train. Was there a murderer or some other sort of a dangerous criminal in here? Had he possibly ended up in the middle of some mafia war or such? What should he do? Leaving as quietly as he'd come was probably the best option, but his body felt heavy like stone and just the idea of standing up again was impossible to comprehend. Inside his head he screamed at his legs: stand up! But they wouldn't listen. His toes felt numb. Although his heart was pounding it was as if blood somehow hadn't reached anything below his knees.
A young man stepped down the stairs.
The situation could have been comical: to an onlooker it must've been amusing on some level to find Sehun there, seated awkwardly on the sofa, his body stiff and his fingers digging into his pale cheek. It could've been a scene from a movie. The camera would stand still displaying the lobby from the direction of the entrance, and to the viewer both Sehun and the male at the bottom of the staircase would've been visible, but one wouldn't have been able to see behind the counter; had the movie not focused on what was lying down there on the floor it could have been extremely hilarious. However in Sehun's mind it was clear as day what he'd seen on the floor, the blood that he could imagine hearing as little droplets hit the pool on the tiles.
Like it had been completely normal the male passed him by, not even glancing his direction. Sehun could've been air. Still feeling like his stomach could twist from just the mental images the brunette let his sweaty hand slip, slowly placing it on his lap, eyes following the man but not turning his head. This person was tall, his hair was pitch black, and his eyes narrow like a cat's. His movements were subtle, graceful; he was wearing all black, the trouser legs of his skinny jeans tucked inside a pair of black, well-kept army boots. His skin looked pearly under the sick white light of the halogens.
Sehun had the nerve to wish the person would step out and leave without paying any attention to him; maybe this was some serial killer with bad eyesight. If he'd stay put and quiet and wouldn't move any more maybe his life would be spared. He tried not to swallow and not to breathe too loud.
The hopes died quickly as the black clad male stopped at the entrance, casually leaning back against the frame of the door, eyes drifting to his direction. Cold chills ran down his back; swallowing Sehun remained silent, fingertips pressing into his thin thighs.
"You're not Kim Jongin", said the black haired male at last. His voice was soft, tender, light; even bright - everything Sehun hadn't expected. He articulated clearly, but his accent was foreign and thick, yet smooth like a song as he spoke the other male's name. Sehun swallowed again and again, his throat feeling dry and no amount of saliva helping to make it better.
"Yeah", he replied quietly and simply.
"Who are you?" asked the black haired male. Sehun stared at him, hardly daring to blink although his eyes stung. The other had a surprisingly pleasing face although his gaze was sharp and his features strong.
"I... Jongin... He asked me to..." Words weren't functioning in his system. His internal binaries were messed up to no end. Sehun felt like he'd been placed in a proof game of chess: from what he could gather about this situation, he was supposed to construct the flow of the events that had led here. He knew Jongin had told him to come here. He knew this person had waited for Jongin, but had found Sehun, instead. He knew there was a body under the counter. The last bit hardly helped. It only made him feel sicker.
Steps in the staircase attracted his attention. Quickly, not considering it might cost him his life, Sehun turned to look to the direction of the sound. Another person was coming down: a tall male came to his line of sight after a moment. Against Sehun's expectations he wasn't a sturdy looking guy, but a lanky young man wearing a bomber jacket over a shirt and a pair of casual skinny jeans and sneakers. His hair was light, most likely dyed. In one hand he held a few brown paper files, the other was tucked in the jacket pocket.
The male at the doorway spoke quietly, but Sehun couldn't understand the language. For a second he considered having lost his mind. Then, as the other replied he came to comprehend they simply weren't speaking Korean. Whatever it was they were discussing the man who had arrived last looked at Sehun only briefly, then stepped to the reception and placed the papers on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning one side against the wooden construction. His eyes were piercing, studying Sehun; the lobby grew quiet again as nobody spoke more.
Finally, beginning with a sigh, the lanky male said, "So, Jongin asked you to come here?"
Sehun bit his lip. This was an endgame checkmate with king and rook: the black clad male was the White rook, the other the White king, and Sehun, against his will, the cornered Black king.
"Yeah", he breathed out and balled his trembling hands into fists. "Uh…" His eyes drifted to where he knew the body was.
"That?" the White king tilted his head to the same direction. Sehun nodded ever so slightly. "Don't mind that. It was that way when we got here."
That hardly made him feel better, but at least Sehun could now tell himself these two weren't responsible and thus unlikely to hurt him. He brought his hands to fiddle with the strap of his bag, looking back and forth between the two. They were a somewhat strange pair. "So… Uh… Who…?"
"Kris." The White king pointed a finger at himself, and then nodded toward the rook at the doorway. "Tao. And you are…?"
"Sehun." He tried his best to not sound like he was still feeling lightheaded.
"Sehun", repeated Kris. He brushed a hand through his hair and sighed again. "Well, I take Jongin knows what the hell is he doing. You any good with data?"
Sehun nodded firmly. Anything as long as he didn't have to think about the body and the puddle of blood.
"Good", Kris said and crossed his arms again. "Are you with the System?"
The System? Sehun frowned. He'd never heard of a thing like that. "Uh… No?"
"No?" Kris looked toward Tao. Doubt was obvious on his face. For a moment Sehun felt afraid. The two men were looking at each other like they'd shared silent words, planning his demise. But instead of producing knives and guns, Kris shook his head and let a chuckle, and then said, "Oh, well, maybe that's for the better."
"What is this… System?" Sehun asked slowly.
Kris shrugged a shoulder. "We're busy people. Maybe next time."
Tao disappeared outside for a second; Sehun heard the front door close, and then he reappeared, closing the door to the vestibule as well. Kris picked up the files, nodding toward the staircase. "Come on. We don't have all night", he said. Pursing his lips into a line Sehun hesitatingly pushed himself off the sofa, his knees feeling funny and his toes full of pins and needles, but he managed somehow. Holding his bag strap with both hands, knuckles turning white, he followed the much taller light haired male up the stairs, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to find the black clad boy following a few steps behind them.
They climbed past the second floor and up to the third, where Kris led the way down a quiet corridor and to a room at the end of it. It was simply decorated with a wide, made bed with a dark wooden frame, peach colour sheets, small wooden tables on both sides of the bed and round table lamps set on each. There was also a table in front of the window and a total of four chairs one of which was placed by the wall further away. The floor was covered completely with soft dark carpet. All in all it was a very stylish room, but there was nothing very outstanding to it; it could've been put together by anyone. Sehun shuddered at the thought of what kinds of things usually happened here.
"Sit", the light haired male said firmly as he laid the files on the table. Sehun did as told, sliding to one of the chairs by the desk, placing his hands on the edge of it. He looked at Kris opening the paper files and taking out documents, then turned to gaze at the direction of Tao who remained at the doorway, looking ready and alert but not really anyhow nervous.
"Why... Uh. Why was Jongin called here?" Sehun asked at last as the silence was growing too much to bear. Kris looked at him quickly and continued arranging the papers. "He said there was a mess-up..."
"Oh?" The tall male let a laugh. "Well, maybe. A person was supposed to come here for a pick-up, but it went all wrong. You saw the body downstairs."
He really didn't want to think about that. Sehun nodded slightly and finally brought a hand to remove the CA cap; he put it aside on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. "So what happened...?"
"We were supposed to pick up something from that person", Kris shrugged, "but something happened and someone else showed up instead. Setup, mix-up, whatever you want to call it. Nevertheless the guy who did show up was pretty easy to negotiate some with, so we got this, and Jongin is a contact we assumed could give a hand with the numbers."
He tapped one of the papers with his finger and Sehun leaned in to have a better look. It was all a code, a paper full of data in compact form: binaries and decimal translations, but the more he looked at it the less it seemed to make sense. A deep frown formed on his face, and he looked up at Kris. "This is all messed up", he breathed out slow and quiet.
"You really don't know about the System", the light haired male said, but more to himself than to Sehun or even his companion at the door. "Impressive for a guy who's supposed to know the field."
"I'm just a student", Sehun mumbled a bit defensively. Kris only shrugged.
"Have a look at it. We need a translated draft. That's a bit illegible for the two of us."
"What is this supposed to be?"
"A document", said the black-clad male from the doorway.
Sehun huffed and rubbed his temples. Too many things were going on at once: Jongin, the body, these two, and the files set on the table. Constructing a shortest proof game was impossible.
Then, he focused to look at the data.