Seventh High [DBSK]
Title: Seventh High
Rating: G
Fandom: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Summary: But tonight, the world needed an idol. And they don't come any better than U-know Yunho.
Author's Note: Huge thanks to Miia for being such an effective test audience/cheerleader, to Reeza for being the best team mom ever. To Cath, dreams shine brightly, but the dreamer shines more; few people in fandom have inspired me as much as you. And to Team Shrieks-A-Lot who redefined the meaning of “wailing and gnashing of teeth”, may we find technology that actually suits our needs. Hey, we can’t fail all the time. My pinch hit for the kpop_olymfics 2013 cycle. Originally posted here.
NOTE: The ideas expressed in this fic do not necessarily mirror the ideas of the author.
Word Count: 9,524 words
A single man can change the whole world.
"It will be dangerous," the inspector said gravely, and Yunho thought of course it was going to be fucking dangerous.
"Absolutely not," Yunho's manager retorted as he slammed a fist on the cheap formica table. He made to leave as if he'd ended the discussion, gathering his piles of paper of jumbled legal language and didn't even bother looking at the inspector's steely gaze. He was already at the door when he realized he was standing alone.
Yunho kept his expression blank, but he got the feeling that the man sitting across the table from him had seen more of human nature than Yunho could ever dream of. Yunho had learned how to fool the camera, how to woo the hearts of a million fans into loving him, how to convince sponsors into thinking he was their perfect little model.
But then, the reality was that idol powers had a very limited area of effect.
Yunho nodded, a single action more challenging than any training, any hardship that the idol world had ever placed upon his shoulders. "I'll do it," he said, and signed the agreement before his manager could stop him. Not that his manager could stop him, not from this.
After all, he may have been an idol still, but he was no longer a child. He was a man and men didn't need contracts to define their honor.
Speaking of contracts, the entertainment industry had very specific, very binding clauses that basically boiled down to this: do what management tells you to do, and do it gratefully.
Say what you will about the imbalance of power, about the manipulation of children for labor, about the assault to freedom for the sake of misunderstood dreams, and many others have said so much more about this lottery of ink and spotlight... but in the end even the entertainment industry was bound by the needs of the country. Even idols had to go to war.
Even idols could choose to serve and protect their country in any of the ways they knew. Not even the contract could override acts of personal sovereignty under the call of the people's communal need.
The ride back to his condo was tense. That was a given. The garish red sunset was perfectly symbolic.
Yunho could practically hear his manager wracking his brain for any of the myriad ways he could convince Yunho to change his mind, that a calm discussion over tea and mochi could do wonders for this misplaced heroic state of mind. Because that was what the industry was good at: convincing children that this was what they wanted, that they were the only ones who could make their dreams come true.
But Yunho was a child no more. He pushed his manager's worries away from the center of his mind and focused nearly singularly on the project he'd taken on for and by himself. This project which he had no idea how to handle but at the same time knew with absolute certainty that he had to do no matter what. This project like none other Yunho had ever worked with, not like shooting MVs where NGs only meant redoing the scene, not like reality shows where the final reel could be edited and cut to maintain imagery and entertainment. Not even like the stage where he could practice for hours on end until he got every pop locked, every appoggiatura timed perfectly evocative.
This was a one-time deal, one chance to do it or it would be shot to hell.
For the sake of fallen comrades, Yunho would do it right.
Jang Dongwoo had been the first, a disappearance six months ago that nobody knew how to explain. Dongwoo loved being an idol, wasn't the type to run away from the pressure and the scrutiny and even from the obsessive fans who compromised his privacy. Private hours of no contact turned to days of frantic searching. Infinite and their management contained the drama and the heartbreak as much as they could, spun stories of health issues - both mental and physical - that necessitated in the stage's fierce Dongwoo breaking from the inner Jang Dongwoo, the child who bore all the pressure of his idol life with nothing more than an armor of colors and laughter, and the time had come for the latter to give in. Jang Dongwoo, according to Infinite, had to travel back to Canada to “find himself once more and come back stronger than ever”. Infinite implored vigilance, that the fans support them in these harrowing times, and the strategy worked: people focused more on the broken remains than the piece that vanished from the board.
Then two months later, Yong Junhyung didn't come home after an extended recording session for Davichi's latest album. Beast, always so vocal, always so transparent, had been forced into indefinite hiatus before fan reactions erupted beyond control. Each member was instructed to carefully memorize a series of false events about Junhyung being dissatisfied with idol life and reneging on his contract. Junhyung, according to the script, wanted to live out the rest of his life as a teacher in the provinces. A vocational call that Beast supposedly tried to fight against but eventually agreed to.
2PM's Minjun vanished on the way back from a night out with non-idol friends. The cab he'd taken was found a few days later behind an old warehouse. The driver was in his seat, dead since the night of the disappearance from what police determined was a drug overdose. There was blood on the back seat. Not much, just a small splatter that laboratories were able to match with DNA samples taken from Minjun's toothbrush. The rest of Minjun had yet to turn up.
The severity of the situation took clear shape after that: someone was hunting idols.
The fans were good at piecing puzzles together when it came of the privacy of their idols' lives, but the entertainment industry had masters capable of bending the public will.
None of these details had been released to the public yet, and here the word "public" was used loosely.
But then, what Yunho held in his hands wasn't exactly meant for public scrutiny.
"How long have you known?" Yunho asked the tired figure that sat on the other side of the dinner table.
"Since Yong Junhyung disappeared," Inspector Jin Youngsoo admitted as he sipped on a cup of Yunho's coffee. He'd resisted having the briefing in the privacy of Yunho's condominium, but Yunho assured him that few places had tighter security than a world-class idol's home. "We're presenting information to you on an immersive basis. The dossier you're reading is a high-level overview of the sequence of events, but it doesn't contain every detail we've uncovered so far. You are still technically a private citizen; you will be presented information on a need to know basis."
"And how will you determine what I need to know?" Yunho asked, not exactly rebelliously. This was a role. Youngsoo, even in the strictness of his language, spoke like he was in a drama. Yunho wondered if scriptwriters had ever based characters on him or if it was the other way around.
The inspector indulged him with a weak, fatherly smile. "You will find, Jung Yunho-sshi, that my team happens to be good at this job."
Yunho nodded and set the dossier aside. He'd already read it three times from cover to cover.
"Is there anything you'd like to ask?"
"Are they dead?" Yunho asked bluntly.
Youngsoo didn't miss a beat; as if he already knew exactly what Yunho wanted to know. "Almost certainly," the inspector admitted delicately, with a touch of empathy that Yunho felt he'd honed from years of talking to the families of the bereaved. "Jang Dongwoo, most definitely, and Yong Junhyung. Kim Minjun's fate is still unclear, but based on our profiler's projections there is ninety-five per cent confidence that Kim Minjun is already within the critical period wherein the criminal's psychosis will escalate. "
Euphemisms. Yunho almost got to his feet, but the steady look Youngsoo leveled at him steeled his reaction. "If there's a chance he's still alive-"
"We are not the only people working on this case," Youngsoo reminded him. "You are an idol and a necessary supplement to this team. You are not a search and rescue operative. Remember: we cannot do everything. But what we can do, we must do correctly. The other team's mission is to find and rescue the victims. Our mission is to catch the killer. Your righteous anger will only complicate matters. Do you understand, Yunho-sshi?"
Of course. This was a one-night mission. If there was one night when he had to be in perfect control of his body, it had to be tonight.
Yunho unclenched his fists and nodded.
The team's criminal profiler also happened to be an expert at wielding a make-up brush.
"It's a lady's prerogative to change how we look every day," Hyun Haeun said as she made her way through the arsenal of cosmetics that sat on Yunho's dresser. "Besides, I paid my way through college by working at a department store. Prettying yourself up is practically half the game." She whistled at a brand of eyeliner from Italy that would have cost half her pay check. Yunho gestured for her to use whatever she wanted.
"So what do we know?" Yunho asked, his lips moving stiffly as he worked concealer on the bags below his eyes. "About this criminal, I mean. I'm sure you've already made a few educated gu-"
"Inferences," Haeun corrected. She glanced tentatively at Youngsoo, who was standing by idly at the door. Youngsoo gave no reaction and that was enough for Haeun. "It's definitely a he," she said as she unscrewed a tube of bb cream. "We might end up talking all night so I’ll just summarize, okay? We're looking for an ex idol trainee. Male. Probably a dancer, definitely a rapper, definitely not someone who'd have been a visual. Someone who feels jilted that he was glossed over despite his talent."
"Is he actually any good?"
"His level of talent doesn't matter," Haeun said sternly as she painted wings on her eyes that drew attention away from the rich waves of her hair. "What matters is that he feels rejected. He feels that he's talented enough to debut but he wasn't given the chance because he didn't look right."
Yunho thought these over. The implications sank in. "Ah. And you asked me to be your bait because...?"
"You idols really are super vain," a gruff voice said from beside Yunho's closet. Kang Hwoarang, the team's combat specialist, a tall man with hair dyed dark orange and teased into spikes reminiscent of anime. He was wearing Yunho's only red tank top and he looked better in it than Yunho ever did. Yunho's muscles were toned; Hwoarang was built. "Go on, noona, indulge his ego."
Haeun blushed, but either because of the awkwardness or because of how Yunho's top hugged the contours of Hwoarang's body, Yunho couldn't tell. "You have to admit, Yunho-sshi," Haeun said delicately as she sorted through her purse for lip gloss, "you didn't exactly look like an idol when you debuted. But that was years ago. You look so much hotter these days."
Yunho just laughed at the throwaway compliment, as if Haeun was wary of offending Yunho's vanity. He knew what this was. This was gallows humor. Like how Changmin had laughed that the company had belatedly imposed a height requirement for DBSK.
"He's after people whom he thinks shouldn't have debuted as well," Hwoarang continued seriously as Haeun painted her lips with a sheen that reminded Yunho of fine merlot. "People whom he thinks should have shared his rejection."
"So it's a form of revenge," Yunho wondered.
Haeun paused. "No," she said softly.
"Why? I mean if he's been taking people like me because we succeeded where he didn't..." Yunho trailed off.
Youngsoo coughed discreetly from his position. The man had barely moved the whole time. All that self-control even in the face of the pressure he faced every day, all that preserved tranquility - this was a type of leadership that Yunho had never learned to harness.
The cough's discreetness was the cue itself. A line had been drawn. A line the other side of which Yunho was not allowed to be shown.
"Just... no," Haeun finished flatly. She stepped back and admired her reflection on Yunho's dresser.
"You done yet?" Hwoarang asked. It would have come across as impatient, but Yunho could tell that Hwoarang's mind was already on the mission. “Because Mirajane's waiting downstairs and you know how irritable she can get.”
Haeun batted her eyelashes at Hwoarang, whose answering leer was betrayed by the laughter tugging at the corners of his lips. Yunho got to his feet and did a quick body wave for the mirror, making sure his jacket accented the signature fluidity with which his shoulders popped and locked.
He'd long ago come to terms with the fact that he was trapped under the idol stereotype. The world was not yet ready for Yunho the writer, Yunho the lawyer, or maybe even Yunho the ambassador for world peace.
But tonight, the world needed an idol.
And they don't come any better than U-know Yunho.
The youngest member of the team was waiting for them in the van, three stories deep in the underground parking space.
"We have people surrounding the premises," Mirajane informed them. "Every exit is covered by at least two agents, each one instructed to use necessary force to disable anybody who causes a ruckus." The last syllable ended too abruptly for Yunho's Korean ears.
Not so long ago, Mirajane was a fresh grad foreign affairs intern from Germany who landed a cozy spot as the personal assistant to the personal assistant to the secretary of the German ambassador to Korea. That was before she was thrown in the middle of an abduction scenario and ended up fighting for her and her boss's lives. A show of her latent sharpshooting skills later, Inspector Youngsoo himself offered her a spot in his team and Mirajane accepted because it sounded more interesting than running around after official dignitaries all day.
"And the club itself?" Yunho asked.
"It's monitored but not as tightly," Mirajane admitted. "Frankly, we don't have the manpower. Too many nooks and crannies, too dark and too noisy. Not a good investment of resources."
"That's what we're here for," Haeun reminded Youngsoo. "Me and Hwoarang and mister hallyu star over here."
"Speaking of which." Mirajane opened a black leather case to reveal ten lumps of flesh-colored plastic encased snugly in felt. "Comm devices. The one that looks like a tooth cap is the transmitter, wedge it against a back molar - use some of this dental adhesive to make sure it doesn't slip and get swallowed. Don't worry about ambient noise, Haeun's audio-filtering programs work like a charm. The tube-shaped one is the receiver. That goes in your ear."
"Duh," Hwoarang intoned eloquently as he nudged the gadget into his right ear and chewed to get used to the fit.
"The network is very straightforward," Mirajane explained. "Anything you hear or say gets transmitted to the rest of us."
"Hear that, Haeun-noona?" Hwoarang called from the backseat. "Better make sure you don't slip and admit you love me. Or else our secret loveline's gonna get exposed."
Haeun winked cheerfully at him. "The only slip up you should worry about is if I accidentally mention anything about your hobby of dancing to SNSD."
Hwoarang's eyes went wide, but before he could retort Youngsoo unfolded his arms and started the engine. The show was about to begin.
"Remember, this is a one-night opportunity," Youngsoo told the group as they rushed through Seoul's Friday night traffic. Whatever apprehension he must have felt didn't show; his hands on the wheel were as steady as cold steel. "If we don't catch him tonight, it'll be two months until he strikes again."
"What makes us so sure he'll be out tonight?" Yunho asked, fighting down the thrill of using the collective pronoun.
"A bit of behavioral analysis," Haeun said, "and a lot of math."
"Math?"
"It's pretty straightforward," Hwoarang said in the tones of feigned boredom that people used to draw more attention to their accomplishment - vanity of the achiever. "Just factoring in social scenes, media stimuli, loci of control, rates of anxiety retention, plus a multitude of other stuff too cumbersome to name. But the model held, all in all, and the formula's pretty elegant if I may say so myself."
"Your display of humility is most inspiring," Mirajane muttered audibly from the front, to which Hwoarang just shrugged his mighty shoulders and said, "Brilliance should be recognized."
"Hwoarang's a statistician," Haeun informed Yunho belatedly. "Could have graduated with highest honors if he hadn't been so obsessed with taekwondo."
Yunho was world renown in the pop idol industry. Yunho had so many trophies and plaques and awards at home that he'd run out of room to display them all. Yunho had never felt this small and underachieving before.
"Suddenly I don't feel so sure why you need me at all," Yunho said, only half joking.
"You're nothing but bait, I thought you knew that."
Haeun rolled her eyes. "Ignore Hwoarang, he's socially awkward around people hotter than him." Hwoarang's answering guffaw was nearly deafening.
"Not all crazy people act crazy all the time," Mirajane said stiffly.
"No worries Hwoarang-sshi," Yunho teased. "In my clothes, anyone could easily mistake you for an idol. Just remember to keep your head down so people don't mistake you for me."
"We're almost there," Youngsoo announced. "Hwoarang and Haeun, I'll drop you off a block earlier. Then we'll circle the site and Yunho-sshi will follow."
"Remember, don't act too familiar with me out there," Yunho reminded everyone.
"Thank you, genius." Hwoarang again.
"No, seriously," Yunho followed up. "You have no idea how crazy my fans can get."
Haeun laughed as the car glided to a stop. "And that's exactly why we need you," she said as she stepped out of the van, with Hwoarang close behind her.
The club itself is safe, Haeun's cheerful voice said right in Yunho's ear as he ignored the line of people waiting to get in and waltzed right through the door. Jung Yunho had been left at home. Tonight he was purely U-know Yunho, and U-know Yunho waited in no lines. He won't take anyone in public, he wouldn't risk maddening fans like that. The delineation between idols and non-idols is still clear in his mind; he's not rebelling against it, you have to remember that. He may be angry at your kind of people but his anger isn't the point. He's... let's just say he's obsessed. Intensely and unhealthily so. We need you to help us filter out the over-involved fans. We need you to point out anyone who's too involved in your presence but who doesn't stand out as your supporter. Someone who'll try to get you alone.
Years of idol life had desensitized Yunho's ears from overambitious thrums of bass and oversized speakers in cooped up places. He ignored the flashes of light that tricked his eyes into remembering still images instead of a crowd writhing and dancing non-stop against the music.
You must understand that this one night of operation took weeks of preparation, said Hwoarang this time, his deep voice blending well with the synthesized percussion. For something like this we leave very little to chance. This club has the highest probability of attracting our killer based on the sheer number of frequent idol customers over the past months. I mean, you said it yourself, you've been here more than a dozen times. But to be sure, we started pressuring every other club in the metropolitan to beef up security, all to discourage our killer from going anywhere else.
The entertainment industry has a very closed circuit,was Mirajane's two cents. The club opted heavily towards foreign new wave both in music and decoration, and the clientele followed suit; Yunho could easily imagine Mirajane blending in among the wide selection of nationalities in the crowd. A few carefully controlled leaks and we managed to convince every company to lock down on their idol groups tonight. Rehearsals, photoshoots, production meetings, anything you can think of. No other idol has the time or energy to be out of their dorm. You have the scene to yourself. Haeun and Hwoarang have line of sight on you at all times. Jung Yunho-sshi, we cannot stress this enough: we've only got tonight. We must make it count.
Yunho could now safely say that concerts were no longer the tightest productions he had taken part of.
He swept through the crowd, a king in his natural element.
The dance floor was an intricate hierarchy with each caste identified by how well they moved and swayed to the all-defining music. Meritocracy grounded on the philosophies of dancing. In this emergent society, Yunho was the ace. He was the zone personified.
You're moving wrong, Haeun's voice in his ear interrupted his musings. Don't act like you're on the search. You should be the one people are looking at. Draw attention to yourself. That's the whole point.
Yunho flashed his devil-may-care grin at no one and tilted his head to the spotlight. When in doubt, sparkle. It wouldn't be right to be seen talking to himself, and people were definitely watching despite the incessant bouncing and grinding. He could feel eyes trailing his body, seduced by the clothes and the hints of sensuality just barely contained underneath. This was nothing new.
Being the center of attention had always been so intoxicating.
He doesn't have anyone to dance with, Hwoarang observed flatly.
Well we can't have that, can we?
Yunho saw the break in the crowd before he recognized who it was. He readied himself to dismiss this newcomer but a timely flash of the strobe light revealed familiar mischievous eyes. "You're looking awfully lonely, stranger," Haeun said as she raised her charm to the max. She laid a hand on Yunho's shoulder and did a body wave that left little to yet completely provoked Yunho's imagination . Haeun was the type to get things done.
Even in his head Yunho could see Hwoarang's face meeting his palm.
"Not so lonely anymore, little princess," Yunho teased back and began to lead this dance like the hallyu star he was. Subtly at first, just small waves of the shoulders that rippled down to his hips. Still too early to show off his liquid grace but he could get away with more than just a little suggestive leering.
Disaster struck.
"Mind if I have this dance?" a new voice said loudly from behind him. Haeun's eyes widened in surprise.
Yunho felt a hand on his shoulder, a guy's if the weight and the pressure in the slight squeeze was any indication. Yunho turned his head, smirk carefully in place to brush this stranger off, ready to shrug and say that he wasn't interested and he needed a reality check if he thought anyone would trade Dong Bang Shin Ki's U-Know Yunho for-
Xia Junsu.
"You don't look happy to see me," Junsu said, his smile ready to match Yunho's in nonchalance... but Junsu had always been the least guarded of the group and Yunho still owed him so much for so many favors left unpaid back from their days in training. Even in the erratic lighting Yunho saw Junsu's discomfort, practically saw Junsu thinking that Yunho was still mad at him even all these years past, that maybe now wasn't the right time.
Of course now wasn't the right time, but not for the reasons Junsu was probably thinking.
"Hey," Yunho said, trying to will away the surprised stiffness on his face.
Who's the short and lumpy guy? Hwoarang's voice piped up.
What's happening? Mirajane, sounding tense.
"Haven't seen you in a while, what are you doing here?" Okay, that wasn't as suave as Yunho wanted.
Junsu shrugged, self-mocking, but even that small action looked so impossibly graceful on him. "Trying to have fun." Then to Haeun, "Mind if I steal your date for a few minutes?"
Yunho glared hard at Haeun, but she just smiled and ran a finger tantalizingly down the bridge of Yunho's nose. The girl knew how to be part of the show. "I guess I'll see you later, stud," she drawled and shuffled away.
Haeun, Mirajane again, very audibly disapproving.
"She's pretty," Junsu said, taking her place and bobbing away to the beat much more platonically than Haeun had been doing. "But I wouldn't have thought you're the type to bring anyone out in public. Is this a change in lifestyle? Yunho-sshi?"
Relax, he doesn't fit the profile, Haeun answered Mirajane. Xia Junsu won't be a target, this doesn't change a thing.
Chaos theory, Hwoarang said academically. We have one factor unaccounted for. Which raises the question: how many other idols are out there? How many possible targets? What else did we fail to control?
"You're one to talk," Yunho shot back. "Are you sure you should be here? You've never voluntarily gone clubbing by yourself. Does your manager even know? Huh, Junsu-sshi? "
Junsu laughed at that, voice still raspy and wheezy. Junsu singing was completely different from Junsu just talking and being casual. "I just wanted to do something different tonight. Besides, my computer crashed and I don't have any games installed in my backup. So I thought, hey, why not have some fun downtown for a change? It's never too late to reinvent yourself, right?"
Hwoarang, you don't sound affected by this development, Youngsoo spoke up for the first time.
My formula still holds, Hwoarang said, obviously trying to hide his doubt. It's still tonight, it's still this club. Besides, Haeun said-
"That's definitely unexpected," Yunho said, all the while cursing whichever deity was responsible for Junsu choosing tonight of all nights to need a change of pace. "Still. I don't think this is your idea of fun."
-that this doesn't have operational impact. Short and Lumpy isn't a target. The club is safe, it's afterward that we should worry about.
I'm going in, Mirajane said confidently. Youngsoo offered no resistance.
Hear that, Yunho? Haeun teased. Better start making yourself the biggest target around.
"Come on, dance!" Junsu chided. "I'm starting to think you don't want to spend time with me, and that's just sad, you know? What's a couple of songs between friends, huh?"
A break in the wave. Just as Yunho was about to get the feel of the music back, a small group of dancers moved imperceptibly to the right and Yunho found himself locking eyes with a man who was staying way too still by the bar, when even the least involved guests were swaying awkwardly to the beat of the crowd. Leather jacket - Yunho noticed because who wore leather to a club outside of Gotham and Chains Night?
They say that eyes are the windows to the soul.
A feeling of longing. Of intense desire. A moment of perfect clarity despite the controlled chaos of the dance floor.
Yunho felt both flattered and creeped out.
"Hey," Junsu whispered not too softly, jerking Yunho away from his thoughts.
"What?" Yunho cocked his head closer. "You'll have to speak up, this isn't exactly the place for intimate conversations-"
Junsu leaned in. Yunho ignored the sudden memories of skinship that had once sparked a million fangirls' dreams. Junsu bit his lips, hesitated for a short moment, then pitched his voice low and asked the question that every idol eventually found themselves grappling with. "Have you ever learned how to spot an anti-fan?"
Yunho looked oddly at him. Junsu looked calculating - not a common expression on such a good-natured face. It was a valid question, one that even the most experienced celebrities had never yet fully answered. Just as the truest fans could sometimes be the most unobtrusive, the most passionate anti-fans could sometimes be the most supportive. Until they revealed their true colors.
Yunho chanced a glance behind him. It was a quick move, quick enough to catch an offbeat jerk of the head from a fragmented group of dancers close by. A blink of a scene that the strobe light burned right into Yunho's memories.
There was no mistaking that expression. It was the same one Changmin wore when the managers finally talked to them about Jaejoong, Yoochun, and Junsu - what Yunho had been suspecting all along and what Changmin just didn't want to hear. It was the moment that taught Yunho the truth about crimes of passion. That maybe murder could be a split-second decision.
Artists learned to be highly in tune with the emotions of the crowd.
"I guess we trust our instincts," Yunho told Junsu, trying not to show the sudden rush of adrenaline and... what was this...? Righteous anger?
A sudden rush of perspective?
A single man can change the whole world.
Yunho's smirk turned a little too manic. "I guess it's time to find out. Cover me."
Junsu raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"
Gotcha, Hwoarang said.
Don't get carried away, Haeun cautioned him, reprimand vibrant all over her voice. Leave the snooping to us professionals. Mirajane?
I am here, unnie, Mirajane said tersely. I lurk nearby.
"Hey." Junsu grabbed Yunho's elbow before the latter could make his way across the dance floor. "What, are you crazy?"
"Don't worry about me, I've got a friend in the crowd don't I?" Yunho tugged his arm free and left Junsu processing the half lie. He wondered if he should feel guilty for manipulating Junsu's sense of competence... but then, he'd been Junsu's leader once. Time had called for him to do worse things.
Smooth, Haeun remarked.
Greasy, Hwoarang opined.
Mirajane had no comment.
Someone slid a drink to Yunho's hand as soon as he reached the bar, someone whose sleeves glinted polished leather. "Cheers." Eyes that felt both acquainted yet unfamiliar at the same time. The same intense gaze of longing that Yunho brushed aside just minutes ago. Eyes that looked at him as if all these layers of clothes didn't stand in the way.
"Thanks, but I don't really accept drinks from strangers," Yunho said, dismissively confident, playing the role and knowing that this type of rejection didn't really put anyone off these days. The man raised his glass in toast and downed his drink in one shot.
Guy in a black button-up going for the bar, Haeun said in Yunho's ear. I don't think he's just looking for some beer. Hwoarang-
I'm on it.
Yunho felt the presence before the person who owned it. A thick feeling in the air, a sense of turmoil, like a delayed punch to the gut that Yunho saw coming but didn't react to quickly enough. "Got a minute?" the man asked lightly, although Yunho could hear clearly how much restraint it took for the man not to growl his question instead.
"I'm a busy guy," Yunho answered, feigning complete disinterest and looking squarely at the dance floor. He saw Junsu dancing with a small group of starstruck college students who kept smiling like they couldn't believe their luck. For the first time Yunho felt glad that Junsu was around.
Well, maybe not. If he had to be honest Yunho would much rather not have anyone else involved, but since someone else was already here anyway at least that someone was Junsu.
Once, long ago, in a dance studio he ran to in the middle of the night, Yunho felt that five was good number for a group. Once, five men had been able to change the whole world.
"I'm saying maybe you should find a minute," the new guy said, and this time there was no mistaking the growl.
A flirtatious laugh from nearby, a giggled "Oppa, why did I fall in love with you?" that was cut short when a man whose arms could seduce the whole dance floor started making out with his date. Yunho caught a glimpse of lips painted the color of aged wine before he started feeling indecent for watching.
Under normal circumstances the right thing to do was to walk away and not get involved. But then, Mirajane did say that they had the place surrounded. Tonight was no normal night out. And Yunho had friends in the crowd.
The time was right. There's no better team.
Yunho shook his head and put on that belittling smirk he'd practiced in front of the mirror over years and years of being reminded about the differences between 'us' and 'them'. Never mind that deep down he and the fans were no more than just people who walked different roads in life. Idols had to convince the audience that they were a world of glamour apart.
A glare for a glare. Yunho recognized the signs of careful fury. The eyes of a man who contained his anger just enough to keep from exploding.
Idols were masters of provocation.
Yunho nodded at him - a mockery of their pretend equality - and jerked his head to a dimly lit hallway that lead to a fire exit in the back alley. He didn't wait for the man's acknowledgement; Yunho may not have been a trained behaviorist but he knew all about barely-contained fury. He didn't have to doubt that the man would follow.
He'd learned to sense when people were on his heels. That was basic idol survival.
We have people outside watching that exit, said Mirajane, but there's a stretch of hall that's not covered by surveillance-
And you thought to mention this only now? Hwoarang interrupted. 'Alarmed' didn't quite capture the intensity in his voice.
Yunho had just enough time to think uh-oh before he heard his follower's footsteps change beat.
Even on stage, a misstep could be turned into adlib choreography by a sharp mind and a well-honed body. Dancers rarely fought by fist, but dance was all about bodily command. There was an exact state of mind that could translate grace to power.
Yunho twisted aside at the last instant, just at the right moment for the man's fist to graze his cheek and slide off his sweaty makeup. At the back of Yunho's mind the tiny insane part of his brain (that he'd inherited from Heechul) giddily thanked the makers of greasy foundation all over the world.
But the greater Yunho was more grounded, and though distant the muscle memory of a childhood of hapkido was ready to be called to front.
He spun on the balls of his feet, grabbed the man's elbow tightly and thrust the heel of his other hand towards his assailant's nose.
A basic lesson in self-defense: breaking the nose leads to tears. Tearful people were half-blind.
An ex idol trainee. Male. Probably a dancer. Haeun's words from earlier this evening. His level of talent doesn't matter. What matters is that he feels jilted.
The man twisted away with the same, familiar grace that Yunho used just a split-second prior, and Yunho was left with no doubt that whatever stopped this man from being idol, lack of talent definitely wasn't it. The man was good.
But no time to muse about that now.
Yunho stuck a knee forward and lunged too deep into the man's space for punches to be of any use. He spun his torso and bore his momentum through his shoulders to shove the guy with sheer blunt force, less about crushing bones and more about destroying balance. The man stumbled back and hit the wall, and slid down just in time to avoid Yunho's elbow jab.
That was bad.
Yunho didn't even feel the pain of the uppercut at first, all he knew was that the world suddenly dissolved in a flash of painful red light behind the dark of his eyes, and he lost all his breath and his lungs were demanding that he inhale right now this instant but his muscles weren't listening and the dull thump just now meant he hit the opposite wall and wow there was the pain-
He saw the man's fist closing in, slowed down in bullet time by all the adrenaline in his blood.
But he was in no condition to do anything about it. Except to brace his mind because his face was going to hurt-
Right from the edge of sight another hand shot out at lightning speed, grabbed the man's wrist just before it made contact with Yunho's face, and pushed the attacker off-balance. A quick blur of a hero in red - movement too fast for Yunho to follow - and the next moment Hwoarang had Yunho's attacker pushed hard against the wall with both hands stretched helplessly behind him.
"Careful, no breaking bones on private property," Haeun said as she strolled into Yunho's clearing line of sight. The man took one look at her and closed his eyes in submission. Outnumbered and definitely outclassed.
Good, Youngsoo commented flatly as if he was right there with them in the shadowed hall, as if everything happened according to plan. Use the backdoor, let's not advertise anything yet.
"You got it," Hwoarang said. "Anything you'd like to say while I'm not feeling so nasty, punk? Nothing? Good, I like friends who know when to keep quiet. Now don't do anything funny - just to let you know, I haven't broken anyone's bones all week and I'd like to keep it that way." Hwoarang pulled the man from his cozy meeting with the wall and marched him further down the hallway.
"Won't he get in trouble for that?" Yunho asked, still somewhat breathless as he pushed himself off the floor. He pressed a palm against his abs and felt the raw pain just beneath his skin. He won't be going topless for a while, not unless he wanted management to explode one way and the fans in another. "Handling someone so casually? Shouldn't there be legal language somewhere?"
Haeun raised an eyebrow at him. "For what? For stopping a fight between two private citizens while he was on his personal night out?"
There was nothing to do but stare as the adrenaline rush died down and the music started making itself heard once more. "What?"
"We didn't actually expect you to get into a fight, but it was a useful opening," Haeun said with a wink. "Besides, there's a reason why we didn't flash our badges right away." A quick glance at Yunho's expression. "Hey, I know it's dirty, but sometimes we have to fight dirty. The law doesn't always offer the sort of delicate handling we need for every situation."
If you're done with discussions of morality, Youngsoo's voice cut in sharply, Hyun Haeun-sshi, your job as a profiler awaits. Now.
"Go," Yunho said, trying not to wince. "I'll go back through the main exit. Besides, people are probably waiting for me back on the floor. I have to make a proper exit so the fans don't speculate about where I disappeared off to."
"Gotcha," Haeun said with a wink. "Make your exit as quickly as you can, we'll need your testament at the station."
Yunho took a few moments alone to recompose himself, to breathe steadily and wipe away the sweat of excitement with careful dabs of his handkerchief.
Soft footsteps approaching from the direction of the dance floor, barely unheard over the persistent thrumming bass. Yunho saw the leather jacket before the familiar grin. "Hey. I was looking for you."
"How many drinks do I have to turn down to get you off my back?" Yunho managed to say calmly, managed to snap back into his aloofly superior persona with the ease of practice. "I'm not interested, never will be." He squared his shoulders and headed back down the hall to the main area, ready to brush the man aside if he didn't give way.
But the stranger stepped to the right to let him through, even bowing slightly in pretend submission. Yunho ignored the mockery in the action and walked past-
A sharp prick in his lower back. A sudden tingling in his legs before his muscles turned to jelly. A brief flash of the floor as he almost collapsed, just before he slammed a palm against the wall to keep him somewhat upright.
"Quick reflexes. You're faster than the others," the man congratulated him from behind. "I guess I'll have to see more of that after you wake up."
Yunho, we have the wrong guy - Haeun's voice shouted in his ear.
No shit.
It took way too much effort to turn his head, way too long to register what must have happened. The man hid a hypodermic needle up his sleeve, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dowsed it with some clear liquid from a small liquor flask he kept in his jacket. It didn't take a huge leap of imagination to realize what it was.
The easy cheer in the man's smile brought home a sense of crawling doom. "Don't look so tired, you'll get plenty of rest soon."
But Yunho barely even heard it over the wheezy voice that boomed throughout the hall.
"HYUNG!"
The stranger was on the run with barely any moment of hesitation.
And Junsu was after him just as quickly, sprinting past Yunho on those short yet incredibly fast legs that allowed him to dominate the soccer field.
Junsu was not very good at math so the intricacies of momentum were entirely lost to him. But he was very good with speed.
The man had just enough time to twist the door handle before Junsu slammed bluntly into him, crushing them both against the cheap wood in a loud crash that Yunho knew just had to hurt even in this greatly slowed state of mind.
The problem was that Junsu was not a fighter, had never been in a fight in all his life, and had been very vocal about maintaining peace at all times. Junsu's ace in this confrontation was his build up. But up close and personal, he didn't have the right frame of mind to turn dancing into fighting.
Yunho pushed himself forward through sheer force of will, not believing himself helpless as the man pulled out his needle and close in on a still-dazed Junsu.
A swift whisper of a breeze grazed the edge of Yunho's ear. A quick flash of something white. And suddenly the man was clutching the side of his arm and stumbling back with the same rubbery grace that Yunho felt in his limbs. The struggle stopped too soon; he just wasn't moving anymore.
Precise, measured strides. Mirajane leaned beside Yunho and helped him stand up. A figure of complete and utter confidence, with the assurance of what she can do no matter how tiny her air pistol. After all, among the sharpshooters she was the very best. Like no one ever was. "I have him, unnie. The hallyu stars are safe."
Stars? Plural? Hwoarang asked, concerned.
"Yes, the short and lumpy one intervened just in time. Both are safe although slightly worse for wear."
"Who are you?" Junsu asked shakily. He took one glance at the downed man to make sure he was harmless before watching Yunho try to walk with unsteady legs. Yunho succeeded thanks only to Mirajane's assistance.
"A friend," Yunho managed to grumble loudly enough, despite lips that felt like they were made of lead. Junsu nodded and made his way over to carry the brunt of Yunho's weight.
"I am the secret weapon," Mirajane said shortly as they assisted Yunho to the end of the hall. No way could Yunho make a proper exit through the dance floor now.
The door slammed open. Hwoarang stormed through with his fists raised and relaxed his guard only when he saw the collapsed heap just beyond the door. Haeun was right on his heels.
"That's the guy," Yunho mumbled as their awkward group drew level with the other two. "He had drugs and everything."
Haeun peered into Yunho's eyes and sighed deeply. "We'll need to get you checked over, make sure he didn't use anything too destructive. Mirajane, get him to the hospital. Hwoarang and I will finish up at the station and get a statement from Yunho-sshi as soon as the doctors clear his health."
"What's going on?" Junsu asked. "Hyung, who are all these people?"
"They're..." Well, how could Yunho describe them? How could he really? "They're my idols. I'm a huge fan."
"Greasy," Hwoarang said with a sneer.
"Sweet," Haeun countered, then after mulling it over, "but yeah, also kind of greasy."
Mirajane had no comment.
The doctors wanted to keep Yunho under observation for twenty-four hours, which was about forty-eight hours longer than Yunho's managers wanted to allow. Inspector Youngsoo's intervention managed to get him twelve hours of medical leave and honestly that was a whole day more than Yunho thought he was going to get.
The doctors who came to see him wore strained expressions, which as far as Yunho was concerned was good news: if they weren't fake smiling then he was probably going to be okay.
"It was just a muscle relaxant," Haeun told him. "Medical-grade, even, so there won't be any lasting damage. I think the doctors are just concerned about the possibility of an overdose." Haeun grinned. "And I think they want to keep you away from your managers right now."
Yunho laughed at the truth in that. One of the managers had suggested pumping Yunho with stimulants so he could make up for lost rehearsal time. The doctors had been very vocal about what they thought of that suggestion. "Well. I'm still alive, aren't I? And I've been through worse."
Whatever reaction he'd been expecting Haeun to have, a bitter smile wasn't at the top of Yunho's list. "You came very close," Haeun said solemnly, "to experiencing a form of hell on earth that nobody deserves."
According to Haeun, the district's vast resources of citizen identification databases led to a goldmine of peripheral information that Youngsoo coordinated quickly to his counterpart in the search and rescue team. Youngsoo hustled his group to assist in the rescue initiative as soon as Mirajane announced that Yunho was safely in the hospital's custody.
Haeun looked like she hadn't slept for three days by the time she came to Yunho just before dawn. She wouldn't tell him what they found; she deferred that decision to Youngsoo instead, whom she promised would personally visit Yunho for some need-to-know disclosure.
Still, Haeun had her own fair share of stories to tell. "That guy who assaulted you first. Didn't he look familiar?" Yunho's furrowed eyebrows were answers enough. "Apparently, you knew each other years before. From a dance group in Jeonlado?"
A vague flash of memory that didn't resolve into anything definite, no matter how much Yunho pursued the thought. "But I left that group a decade ago."
Haeun shrugged tiredly. "Not all wounds are healed by time. Some wounds fester and rot when left too long. His anger is not your mistake, Yunho-sshi," Haeun clarified as he saw Yunho's face darken. "You left the group to pursue your dreams, and you were free to do that. That he felt you should have shared your success with them is not your fault. He never made the choice to stop hurting even all these years past. That isn't up to you."
"Lost dreams, huh?" Yunho said quietly.
"Few people are as lucky as U-Know Yunho."
Not that Yunho had to be reminded. That was how the world worked, and it worked so consistently that Yunho had learned to turn his eyes away from the bitter reminders every day.
The door opened. Youngsoo entered, looking no worse for wear than any other time Yunho saw him.
Haeun gathered her things and stood up. "I'd better go. This isn't a talk I want to be around for."
"Get some sleep," Youngsoo told her as she bowed.
"Yes, sir," Haeun answered in tones that clearly said maybe not in this reality but maybe alcohol will help. Then to Yunho, "It was great working with you, hallyu star-sshi. I'll try to catch your next concert. Hopefully I won't be too busy with, you know, saving the world or whatever."
"Your backstage passes are on me," Yunho called after her just as she closed the door. Youngsoo took her place on the bedside chair.
"I doubt she'll attend your concerts," Youngsoo said as he opened his briefcase and sorted through the files.
"That's too bad. But I'm sure we idols aren't the only busy people in the world."
"That is true, but that's not the main reason. What do you think about passion, Jung Yunho-sshi?"
"I could say so many things," Yunho admitted. "But I know that you're looking for a specific answer. I don't know which one to give."
"During her teenage years, Hyun Haeun was part of an idol group that disbanded before they could make their mark." Youngsoo passed Yunho a laminated album cover in varying shades of pink and purple. "Glitter came out in late 2003 as the rising sun of the girl group genre. They then disbanded early the following year after their debut received lukewarm response at best. That is, unfortunately, the most one could say about them. Hyun Haeun, their leader, went on to live a private life until she became the woman you know today. She kept this aspect of her past a secret until we were assigned this case, and even then she revealed it only to me."
"What for?" Yunho asked, surprised. In the brief time he'd known Haeun she had never shown even a moment of self-doubt. "I mean, sure Hwoarang can be a bit brash and maybe Mirajane won't get all the fuss, but I don't think it would have been a big deal?"
"It is to her." Youngsoo gently took back the album cover and carefully hid it beneath all the other contents of his briefcase. "Haeun is a living testament to finding happiness in life even if one had not been able to pursue his or her dreams. Even to this day, performing on stage is still what Haeun dreams of doing. But even though she doesn't get to do it for a living, it does not mean that Hyun Haeun is not living a happy and fulfilled life."
Yunho can attest to that. And it wasn't just Haeun; Yunho had countless friends from training days who didn't get to debut, but they emailed each other every once in a while and by and large everyone seemed happy. The most powerful dancer in their batch couldn't stay in tune no matter how hard he tried. Barely two years as a kitchen hand later, he won a scholarship to study in one of the most prestigious schools for the culinary arts in Italy.
The inspector's voice took on the detached tone that Yunho thought he should be famous for. "Sadly, not everyone handles disappointment so constructively. Haeun, among countless other failed idols and trainees, eventually moved on and found niches for themselves. But a rare few - and thankfully they are so few - bottle the devastation inside themselves, where it rots and turns into a form of anger that corrupts the rest of their mind. This is the kind of person you faced last night."
But then that man didn't seem angry at all, not with how he grinned so easily and teased even as he methodologically incapacitated an idol in a half-hidden hallway of a populated club.
"Kim Minjun is alive," Youngsoo interrupted Yunho's thoughts without preamble, leaving Yunho to follow the discussion on his own, "in a... very specific sense of the word. The doctors are working hard to stabilize his condition and the therapists assured me that their program will rehabilitate his body enough for him to be able to eat unassisted once more. Unfortunately, returning to his life as an idol is out of the question."
The words and their echoes took too long to fade. The horror was there to stay.
"And... Dongwoo? And Junhyung?"
Youngsoo's return to an expression of blankness was informative. "Jung Yunho-sshi. It takes practice to live a life where every night's sleep is an invitation for gruesome dreams."
"It's a good thing I don't get much sleep, then."
Youngsoo's lingering glance at the determination in Yunho's eyes had the same detached distance that the company's instructors used on their trainees. Everything was an exam. He drew out a single manila folder - thin and light enough to suggest that there was only one sheet inside - from the depths of his case and delicately placed it on Yunho's lap.
Still. Some things had to be pursued. "What will you tell Beast? What will you tell Infinite? 2PM? What will you tell their families?"
Whatever silent exam it was, Youngsoo's long-suffering sigh was human enough for Yunho to live with. "We will tell them enough of the truth for closure and healing to still be possible. In some instances, the fewer that people know the better they can live their lives. Not all censorship is evil; sometimes we keep secrets for the sake of the very same people who must not know about them. It is not up to us to determine what Jang Dongwoo and Yong Junhyung will be remembered for, but in honor of their memories they should not be remembered for this."
Yunho stared at the blank, unassuming folder that blended so well with the hospital's blanket.
It was all too late to do anything else. It's become a matter of memories concealed behind cheap white cardboard, kept secret from the people whom the fallen would call their own families.
A careful flick of the wrist to indulge a filtered truth: two young men, both hauntingly familiar, bleached porcelain white and carefully dressed in idols' clothes propped like mannequins caught in mid dance. Bright futures reduced to these, all because they lived a dream denied to somebody they didn't even know.
Yunho said nothing more even as Inspector Youngsoo gathered all his files and promised him one last visit in the very near future. Bureaucracy commanded that some papers be signed, though now wasn't exactly the right time and Youngsoo only acknowledged that out of respect for Yunho's contributions.
They say that someone is not truly dead until the last ripples of their life have faded away. Until the last fruits of the seeds they planted have been gathered and eaten. Until the last block of wood they chopped have been burned in the furnace. Maybe, in this day and age, until the last echoes of the songs they sang have stopped playing in the memories of those who loved them.
Maybe through memories people can really live on.
But then, if memories were made of only good things then what Yunho had were not the substance of reminiscences.
Still. Reality cared nothing for kindness.
The least Yunho could do was to remember the truth.
Rating: G
Fandom: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Summary: But tonight, the world needed an idol. And they don't come any better than U-know Yunho.
Author's Note: Huge thanks to Miia for being such an effective test audience/cheerleader, to Reeza for being the best team mom ever. To Cath, dreams shine brightly, but the dreamer shines more; few people in fandom have inspired me as much as you. And to Team Shrieks-A-Lot who redefined the meaning of “wailing and gnashing of teeth”, may we find technology that actually suits our needs. Hey, we can’t fail all the time. My pinch hit for the kpop_olymfics 2013 cycle. Originally posted here.
NOTE: The ideas expressed in this fic do not necessarily mirror the ideas of the author.
Word Count: 9,524 words
A single man can change the whole world.
"It will be dangerous," the inspector said gravely, and Yunho thought of course it was going to be fucking dangerous.
"Absolutely not," Yunho's manager retorted as he slammed a fist on the cheap formica table. He made to leave as if he'd ended the discussion, gathering his piles of paper of jumbled legal language and didn't even bother looking at the inspector's steely gaze. He was already at the door when he realized he was standing alone.
Yunho kept his expression blank, but he got the feeling that the man sitting across the table from him had seen more of human nature than Yunho could ever dream of. Yunho had learned how to fool the camera, how to woo the hearts of a million fans into loving him, how to convince sponsors into thinking he was their perfect little model.
But then, the reality was that idol powers had a very limited area of effect.
Yunho nodded, a single action more challenging than any training, any hardship that the idol world had ever placed upon his shoulders. "I'll do it," he said, and signed the agreement before his manager could stop him. Not that his manager could stop him, not from this.
After all, he may have been an idol still, but he was no longer a child. He was a man and men didn't need contracts to define their honor.
Speaking of contracts, the entertainment industry had very specific, very binding clauses that basically boiled down to this: do what management tells you to do, and do it gratefully.
Say what you will about the imbalance of power, about the manipulation of children for labor, about the assault to freedom for the sake of misunderstood dreams, and many others have said so much more about this lottery of ink and spotlight... but in the end even the entertainment industry was bound by the needs of the country. Even idols had to go to war.
Even idols could choose to serve and protect their country in any of the ways they knew. Not even the contract could override acts of personal sovereignty under the call of the people's communal need.
The ride back to his condo was tense. That was a given. The garish red sunset was perfectly symbolic.
Yunho could practically hear his manager wracking his brain for any of the myriad ways he could convince Yunho to change his mind, that a calm discussion over tea and mochi could do wonders for this misplaced heroic state of mind. Because that was what the industry was good at: convincing children that this was what they wanted, that they were the only ones who could make their dreams come true.
But Yunho was a child no more. He pushed his manager's worries away from the center of his mind and focused nearly singularly on the project he'd taken on for and by himself. This project which he had no idea how to handle but at the same time knew with absolute certainty that he had to do no matter what. This project like none other Yunho had ever worked with, not like shooting MVs where NGs only meant redoing the scene, not like reality shows where the final reel could be edited and cut to maintain imagery and entertainment. Not even like the stage where he could practice for hours on end until he got every pop locked, every appoggiatura timed perfectly evocative.
This was a one-time deal, one chance to do it or it would be shot to hell.
For the sake of fallen comrades, Yunho would do it right.
Jang Dongwoo had been the first, a disappearance six months ago that nobody knew how to explain. Dongwoo loved being an idol, wasn't the type to run away from the pressure and the scrutiny and even from the obsessive fans who compromised his privacy. Private hours of no contact turned to days of frantic searching. Infinite and their management contained the drama and the heartbreak as much as they could, spun stories of health issues - both mental and physical - that necessitated in the stage's fierce Dongwoo breaking from the inner Jang Dongwoo, the child who bore all the pressure of his idol life with nothing more than an armor of colors and laughter, and the time had come for the latter to give in. Jang Dongwoo, according to Infinite, had to travel back to Canada to “find himself once more and come back stronger than ever”. Infinite implored vigilance, that the fans support them in these harrowing times, and the strategy worked: people focused more on the broken remains than the piece that vanished from the board.
Then two months later, Yong Junhyung didn't come home after an extended recording session for Davichi's latest album. Beast, always so vocal, always so transparent, had been forced into indefinite hiatus before fan reactions erupted beyond control. Each member was instructed to carefully memorize a series of false events about Junhyung being dissatisfied with idol life and reneging on his contract. Junhyung, according to the script, wanted to live out the rest of his life as a teacher in the provinces. A vocational call that Beast supposedly tried to fight against but eventually agreed to.
2PM's Minjun vanished on the way back from a night out with non-idol friends. The cab he'd taken was found a few days later behind an old warehouse. The driver was in his seat, dead since the night of the disappearance from what police determined was a drug overdose. There was blood on the back seat. Not much, just a small splatter that laboratories were able to match with DNA samples taken from Minjun's toothbrush. The rest of Minjun had yet to turn up.
The severity of the situation took clear shape after that: someone was hunting idols.
The fans were good at piecing puzzles together when it came of the privacy of their idols' lives, but the entertainment industry had masters capable of bending the public will.
None of these details had been released to the public yet, and here the word "public" was used loosely.
But then, what Yunho held in his hands wasn't exactly meant for public scrutiny.
"How long have you known?" Yunho asked the tired figure that sat on the other side of the dinner table.
"Since Yong Junhyung disappeared," Inspector Jin Youngsoo admitted as he sipped on a cup of Yunho's coffee. He'd resisted having the briefing in the privacy of Yunho's condominium, but Yunho assured him that few places had tighter security than a world-class idol's home. "We're presenting information to you on an immersive basis. The dossier you're reading is a high-level overview of the sequence of events, but it doesn't contain every detail we've uncovered so far. You are still technically a private citizen; you will be presented information on a need to know basis."
"And how will you determine what I need to know?" Yunho asked, not exactly rebelliously. This was a role. Youngsoo, even in the strictness of his language, spoke like he was in a drama. Yunho wondered if scriptwriters had ever based characters on him or if it was the other way around.
The inspector indulged him with a weak, fatherly smile. "You will find, Jung Yunho-sshi, that my team happens to be good at this job."
Yunho nodded and set the dossier aside. He'd already read it three times from cover to cover.
"Is there anything you'd like to ask?"
"Are they dead?" Yunho asked bluntly.
Youngsoo didn't miss a beat; as if he already knew exactly what Yunho wanted to know. "Almost certainly," the inspector admitted delicately, with a touch of empathy that Yunho felt he'd honed from years of talking to the families of the bereaved. "Jang Dongwoo, most definitely, and Yong Junhyung. Kim Minjun's fate is still unclear, but based on our profiler's projections there is ninety-five per cent confidence that Kim Minjun is already within the critical period wherein the criminal's psychosis will escalate. "
Euphemisms. Yunho almost got to his feet, but the steady look Youngsoo leveled at him steeled his reaction. "If there's a chance he's still alive-"
"We are not the only people working on this case," Youngsoo reminded him. "You are an idol and a necessary supplement to this team. You are not a search and rescue operative. Remember: we cannot do everything. But what we can do, we must do correctly. The other team's mission is to find and rescue the victims. Our mission is to catch the killer. Your righteous anger will only complicate matters. Do you understand, Yunho-sshi?"
Of course. This was a one-night mission. If there was one night when he had to be in perfect control of his body, it had to be tonight.
Yunho unclenched his fists and nodded.
The team's criminal profiler also happened to be an expert at wielding a make-up brush.
"It's a lady's prerogative to change how we look every day," Hyun Haeun said as she made her way through the arsenal of cosmetics that sat on Yunho's dresser. "Besides, I paid my way through college by working at a department store. Prettying yourself up is practically half the game." She whistled at a brand of eyeliner from Italy that would have cost half her pay check. Yunho gestured for her to use whatever she wanted.
"So what do we know?" Yunho asked, his lips moving stiffly as he worked concealer on the bags below his eyes. "About this criminal, I mean. I'm sure you've already made a few educated gu-"
"Inferences," Haeun corrected. She glanced tentatively at Youngsoo, who was standing by idly at the door. Youngsoo gave no reaction and that was enough for Haeun. "It's definitely a he," she said as she unscrewed a tube of bb cream. "We might end up talking all night so I’ll just summarize, okay? We're looking for an ex idol trainee. Male. Probably a dancer, definitely a rapper, definitely not someone who'd have been a visual. Someone who feels jilted that he was glossed over despite his talent."
"Is he actually any good?"
"His level of talent doesn't matter," Haeun said sternly as she painted wings on her eyes that drew attention away from the rich waves of her hair. "What matters is that he feels rejected. He feels that he's talented enough to debut but he wasn't given the chance because he didn't look right."
Yunho thought these over. The implications sank in. "Ah. And you asked me to be your bait because...?"
"You idols really are super vain," a gruff voice said from beside Yunho's closet. Kang Hwoarang, the team's combat specialist, a tall man with hair dyed dark orange and teased into spikes reminiscent of anime. He was wearing Yunho's only red tank top and he looked better in it than Yunho ever did. Yunho's muscles were toned; Hwoarang was built. "Go on, noona, indulge his ego."
Haeun blushed, but either because of the awkwardness or because of how Yunho's top hugged the contours of Hwoarang's body, Yunho couldn't tell. "You have to admit, Yunho-sshi," Haeun said delicately as she sorted through her purse for lip gloss, "you didn't exactly look like an idol when you debuted. But that was years ago. You look so much hotter these days."
Yunho just laughed at the throwaway compliment, as if Haeun was wary of offending Yunho's vanity. He knew what this was. This was gallows humor. Like how Changmin had laughed that the company had belatedly imposed a height requirement for DBSK.
"He's after people whom he thinks shouldn't have debuted as well," Hwoarang continued seriously as Haeun painted her lips with a sheen that reminded Yunho of fine merlot. "People whom he thinks should have shared his rejection."
"So it's a form of revenge," Yunho wondered.
Haeun paused. "No," she said softly.
"Why? I mean if he's been taking people like me because we succeeded where he didn't..." Yunho trailed off.
Youngsoo coughed discreetly from his position. The man had barely moved the whole time. All that self-control even in the face of the pressure he faced every day, all that preserved tranquility - this was a type of leadership that Yunho had never learned to harness.
The cough's discreetness was the cue itself. A line had been drawn. A line the other side of which Yunho was not allowed to be shown.
"Just... no," Haeun finished flatly. She stepped back and admired her reflection on Yunho's dresser.
"You done yet?" Hwoarang asked. It would have come across as impatient, but Yunho could tell that Hwoarang's mind was already on the mission. “Because Mirajane's waiting downstairs and you know how irritable she can get.”
Haeun batted her eyelashes at Hwoarang, whose answering leer was betrayed by the laughter tugging at the corners of his lips. Yunho got to his feet and did a quick body wave for the mirror, making sure his jacket accented the signature fluidity with which his shoulders popped and locked.
He'd long ago come to terms with the fact that he was trapped under the idol stereotype. The world was not yet ready for Yunho the writer, Yunho the lawyer, or maybe even Yunho the ambassador for world peace.
But tonight, the world needed an idol.
And they don't come any better than U-know Yunho.
The youngest member of the team was waiting for them in the van, three stories deep in the underground parking space.
"We have people surrounding the premises," Mirajane informed them. "Every exit is covered by at least two agents, each one instructed to use necessary force to disable anybody who causes a ruckus." The last syllable ended too abruptly for Yunho's Korean ears.
Not so long ago, Mirajane was a fresh grad foreign affairs intern from Germany who landed a cozy spot as the personal assistant to the personal assistant to the secretary of the German ambassador to Korea. That was before she was thrown in the middle of an abduction scenario and ended up fighting for her and her boss's lives. A show of her latent sharpshooting skills later, Inspector Youngsoo himself offered her a spot in his team and Mirajane accepted because it sounded more interesting than running around after official dignitaries all day.
"And the club itself?" Yunho asked.
"It's monitored but not as tightly," Mirajane admitted. "Frankly, we don't have the manpower. Too many nooks and crannies, too dark and too noisy. Not a good investment of resources."
"That's what we're here for," Haeun reminded Youngsoo. "Me and Hwoarang and mister hallyu star over here."
"Speaking of which." Mirajane opened a black leather case to reveal ten lumps of flesh-colored plastic encased snugly in felt. "Comm devices. The one that looks like a tooth cap is the transmitter, wedge it against a back molar - use some of this dental adhesive to make sure it doesn't slip and get swallowed. Don't worry about ambient noise, Haeun's audio-filtering programs work like a charm. The tube-shaped one is the receiver. That goes in your ear."
"Duh," Hwoarang intoned eloquently as he nudged the gadget into his right ear and chewed to get used to the fit.
"The network is very straightforward," Mirajane explained. "Anything you hear or say gets transmitted to the rest of us."
"Hear that, Haeun-noona?" Hwoarang called from the backseat. "Better make sure you don't slip and admit you love me. Or else our secret loveline's gonna get exposed."
Haeun winked cheerfully at him. "The only slip up you should worry about is if I accidentally mention anything about your hobby of dancing to SNSD."
Hwoarang's eyes went wide, but before he could retort Youngsoo unfolded his arms and started the engine. The show was about to begin.
"Remember, this is a one-night opportunity," Youngsoo told the group as they rushed through Seoul's Friday night traffic. Whatever apprehension he must have felt didn't show; his hands on the wheel were as steady as cold steel. "If we don't catch him tonight, it'll be two months until he strikes again."
"What makes us so sure he'll be out tonight?" Yunho asked, fighting down the thrill of using the collective pronoun.
"A bit of behavioral analysis," Haeun said, "and a lot of math."
"Math?"
"It's pretty straightforward," Hwoarang said in the tones of feigned boredom that people used to draw more attention to their accomplishment - vanity of the achiever. "Just factoring in social scenes, media stimuli, loci of control, rates of anxiety retention, plus a multitude of other stuff too cumbersome to name. But the model held, all in all, and the formula's pretty elegant if I may say so myself."
"Your display of humility is most inspiring," Mirajane muttered audibly from the front, to which Hwoarang just shrugged his mighty shoulders and said, "Brilliance should be recognized."
"Hwoarang's a statistician," Haeun informed Yunho belatedly. "Could have graduated with highest honors if he hadn't been so obsessed with taekwondo."
Yunho was world renown in the pop idol industry. Yunho had so many trophies and plaques and awards at home that he'd run out of room to display them all. Yunho had never felt this small and underachieving before.
"Suddenly I don't feel so sure why you need me at all," Yunho said, only half joking.
"You're nothing but bait, I thought you knew that."
Haeun rolled her eyes. "Ignore Hwoarang, he's socially awkward around people hotter than him." Hwoarang's answering guffaw was nearly deafening.
"Not all crazy people act crazy all the time," Mirajane said stiffly.
"No worries Hwoarang-sshi," Yunho teased. "In my clothes, anyone could easily mistake you for an idol. Just remember to keep your head down so people don't mistake you for me."
"We're almost there," Youngsoo announced. "Hwoarang and Haeun, I'll drop you off a block earlier. Then we'll circle the site and Yunho-sshi will follow."
"Remember, don't act too familiar with me out there," Yunho reminded everyone.
"Thank you, genius." Hwoarang again.
"No, seriously," Yunho followed up. "You have no idea how crazy my fans can get."
Haeun laughed as the car glided to a stop. "And that's exactly why we need you," she said as she stepped out of the van, with Hwoarang close behind her.
The club itself is safe, Haeun's cheerful voice said right in Yunho's ear as he ignored the line of people waiting to get in and waltzed right through the door. Jung Yunho had been left at home. Tonight he was purely U-know Yunho, and U-know Yunho waited in no lines. He won't take anyone in public, he wouldn't risk maddening fans like that. The delineation between idols and non-idols is still clear in his mind; he's not rebelling against it, you have to remember that. He may be angry at your kind of people but his anger isn't the point. He's... let's just say he's obsessed. Intensely and unhealthily so. We need you to help us filter out the over-involved fans. We need you to point out anyone who's too involved in your presence but who doesn't stand out as your supporter. Someone who'll try to get you alone.
Years of idol life had desensitized Yunho's ears from overambitious thrums of bass and oversized speakers in cooped up places. He ignored the flashes of light that tricked his eyes into remembering still images instead of a crowd writhing and dancing non-stop against the music.
You must understand that this one night of operation took weeks of preparation, said Hwoarang this time, his deep voice blending well with the synthesized percussion. For something like this we leave very little to chance. This club has the highest probability of attracting our killer based on the sheer number of frequent idol customers over the past months. I mean, you said it yourself, you've been here more than a dozen times. But to be sure, we started pressuring every other club in the metropolitan to beef up security, all to discourage our killer from going anywhere else.
The entertainment industry has a very closed circuit,was Mirajane's two cents. The club opted heavily towards foreign new wave both in music and decoration, and the clientele followed suit; Yunho could easily imagine Mirajane blending in among the wide selection of nationalities in the crowd. A few carefully controlled leaks and we managed to convince every company to lock down on their idol groups tonight. Rehearsals, photoshoots, production meetings, anything you can think of. No other idol has the time or energy to be out of their dorm. You have the scene to yourself. Haeun and Hwoarang have line of sight on you at all times. Jung Yunho-sshi, we cannot stress this enough: we've only got tonight. We must make it count.
Yunho could now safely say that concerts were no longer the tightest productions he had taken part of.
He swept through the crowd, a king in his natural element.
The dance floor was an intricate hierarchy with each caste identified by how well they moved and swayed to the all-defining music. Meritocracy grounded on the philosophies of dancing. In this emergent society, Yunho was the ace. He was the zone personified.
You're moving wrong, Haeun's voice in his ear interrupted his musings. Don't act like you're on the search. You should be the one people are looking at. Draw attention to yourself. That's the whole point.
Yunho flashed his devil-may-care grin at no one and tilted his head to the spotlight. When in doubt, sparkle. It wouldn't be right to be seen talking to himself, and people were definitely watching despite the incessant bouncing and grinding. He could feel eyes trailing his body, seduced by the clothes and the hints of sensuality just barely contained underneath. This was nothing new.
Being the center of attention had always been so intoxicating.
He doesn't have anyone to dance with, Hwoarang observed flatly.
Well we can't have that, can we?
Yunho saw the break in the crowd before he recognized who it was. He readied himself to dismiss this newcomer but a timely flash of the strobe light revealed familiar mischievous eyes. "You're looking awfully lonely, stranger," Haeun said as she raised her charm to the max. She laid a hand on Yunho's shoulder and did a body wave that left little to yet completely provoked Yunho's imagination . Haeun was the type to get things done.
Even in his head Yunho could see Hwoarang's face meeting his palm.
"Not so lonely anymore, little princess," Yunho teased back and began to lead this dance like the hallyu star he was. Subtly at first, just small waves of the shoulders that rippled down to his hips. Still too early to show off his liquid grace but he could get away with more than just a little suggestive leering.
Disaster struck.
"Mind if I have this dance?" a new voice said loudly from behind him. Haeun's eyes widened in surprise.
Yunho felt a hand on his shoulder, a guy's if the weight and the pressure in the slight squeeze was any indication. Yunho turned his head, smirk carefully in place to brush this stranger off, ready to shrug and say that he wasn't interested and he needed a reality check if he thought anyone would trade Dong Bang Shin Ki's U-Know Yunho for-
Xia Junsu.
"You don't look happy to see me," Junsu said, his smile ready to match Yunho's in nonchalance... but Junsu had always been the least guarded of the group and Yunho still owed him so much for so many favors left unpaid back from their days in training. Even in the erratic lighting Yunho saw Junsu's discomfort, practically saw Junsu thinking that Yunho was still mad at him even all these years past, that maybe now wasn't the right time.
Of course now wasn't the right time, but not for the reasons Junsu was probably thinking.
"Hey," Yunho said, trying to will away the surprised stiffness on his face.
Who's the short and lumpy guy? Hwoarang's voice piped up.
What's happening? Mirajane, sounding tense.
"Haven't seen you in a while, what are you doing here?" Okay, that wasn't as suave as Yunho wanted.
Junsu shrugged, self-mocking, but even that small action looked so impossibly graceful on him. "Trying to have fun." Then to Haeun, "Mind if I steal your date for a few minutes?"
Yunho glared hard at Haeun, but she just smiled and ran a finger tantalizingly down the bridge of Yunho's nose. The girl knew how to be part of the show. "I guess I'll see you later, stud," she drawled and shuffled away.
Haeun, Mirajane again, very audibly disapproving.
"She's pretty," Junsu said, taking her place and bobbing away to the beat much more platonically than Haeun had been doing. "But I wouldn't have thought you're the type to bring anyone out in public. Is this a change in lifestyle? Yunho-sshi?"
Relax, he doesn't fit the profile, Haeun answered Mirajane. Xia Junsu won't be a target, this doesn't change a thing.
Chaos theory, Hwoarang said academically. We have one factor unaccounted for. Which raises the question: how many other idols are out there? How many possible targets? What else did we fail to control?
"You're one to talk," Yunho shot back. "Are you sure you should be here? You've never voluntarily gone clubbing by yourself. Does your manager even know? Huh, Junsu-sshi? "
Junsu laughed at that, voice still raspy and wheezy. Junsu singing was completely different from Junsu just talking and being casual. "I just wanted to do something different tonight. Besides, my computer crashed and I don't have any games installed in my backup. So I thought, hey, why not have some fun downtown for a change? It's never too late to reinvent yourself, right?"
Hwoarang, you don't sound affected by this development, Youngsoo spoke up for the first time.
My formula still holds, Hwoarang said, obviously trying to hide his doubt. It's still tonight, it's still this club. Besides, Haeun said-
"That's definitely unexpected," Yunho said, all the while cursing whichever deity was responsible for Junsu choosing tonight of all nights to need a change of pace. "Still. I don't think this is your idea of fun."
-that this doesn't have operational impact. Short and Lumpy isn't a target. The club is safe, it's afterward that we should worry about.
I'm going in, Mirajane said confidently. Youngsoo offered no resistance.
Hear that, Yunho? Haeun teased. Better start making yourself the biggest target around.
"Come on, dance!" Junsu chided. "I'm starting to think you don't want to spend time with me, and that's just sad, you know? What's a couple of songs between friends, huh?"
A break in the wave. Just as Yunho was about to get the feel of the music back, a small group of dancers moved imperceptibly to the right and Yunho found himself locking eyes with a man who was staying way too still by the bar, when even the least involved guests were swaying awkwardly to the beat of the crowd. Leather jacket - Yunho noticed because who wore leather to a club outside of Gotham and Chains Night?
They say that eyes are the windows to the soul.
A feeling of longing. Of intense desire. A moment of perfect clarity despite the controlled chaos of the dance floor.
Yunho felt both flattered and creeped out.
"Hey," Junsu whispered not too softly, jerking Yunho away from his thoughts.
"What?" Yunho cocked his head closer. "You'll have to speak up, this isn't exactly the place for intimate conversations-"
Junsu leaned in. Yunho ignored the sudden memories of skinship that had once sparked a million fangirls' dreams. Junsu bit his lips, hesitated for a short moment, then pitched his voice low and asked the question that every idol eventually found themselves grappling with. "Have you ever learned how to spot an anti-fan?"
Yunho looked oddly at him. Junsu looked calculating - not a common expression on such a good-natured face. It was a valid question, one that even the most experienced celebrities had never yet fully answered. Just as the truest fans could sometimes be the most unobtrusive, the most passionate anti-fans could sometimes be the most supportive. Until they revealed their true colors.
Yunho chanced a glance behind him. It was a quick move, quick enough to catch an offbeat jerk of the head from a fragmented group of dancers close by. A blink of a scene that the strobe light burned right into Yunho's memories.
There was no mistaking that expression. It was the same one Changmin wore when the managers finally talked to them about Jaejoong, Yoochun, and Junsu - what Yunho had been suspecting all along and what Changmin just didn't want to hear. It was the moment that taught Yunho the truth about crimes of passion. That maybe murder could be a split-second decision.
Artists learned to be highly in tune with the emotions of the crowd.
"I guess we trust our instincts," Yunho told Junsu, trying not to show the sudden rush of adrenaline and... what was this...? Righteous anger?
A sudden rush of perspective?
A single man can change the whole world.
Yunho's smirk turned a little too manic. "I guess it's time to find out. Cover me."
Junsu raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"
Gotcha, Hwoarang said.
Don't get carried away, Haeun cautioned him, reprimand vibrant all over her voice. Leave the snooping to us professionals. Mirajane?
I am here, unnie, Mirajane said tersely. I lurk nearby.
"Hey." Junsu grabbed Yunho's elbow before the latter could make his way across the dance floor. "What, are you crazy?"
"Don't worry about me, I've got a friend in the crowd don't I?" Yunho tugged his arm free and left Junsu processing the half lie. He wondered if he should feel guilty for manipulating Junsu's sense of competence... but then, he'd been Junsu's leader once. Time had called for him to do worse things.
Smooth, Haeun remarked.
Greasy, Hwoarang opined.
Mirajane had no comment.
Someone slid a drink to Yunho's hand as soon as he reached the bar, someone whose sleeves glinted polished leather. "Cheers." Eyes that felt both acquainted yet unfamiliar at the same time. The same intense gaze of longing that Yunho brushed aside just minutes ago. Eyes that looked at him as if all these layers of clothes didn't stand in the way.
"Thanks, but I don't really accept drinks from strangers," Yunho said, dismissively confident, playing the role and knowing that this type of rejection didn't really put anyone off these days. The man raised his glass in toast and downed his drink in one shot.
Guy in a black button-up going for the bar, Haeun said in Yunho's ear. I don't think he's just looking for some beer. Hwoarang-
I'm on it.
Yunho felt the presence before the person who owned it. A thick feeling in the air, a sense of turmoil, like a delayed punch to the gut that Yunho saw coming but didn't react to quickly enough. "Got a minute?" the man asked lightly, although Yunho could hear clearly how much restraint it took for the man not to growl his question instead.
"I'm a busy guy," Yunho answered, feigning complete disinterest and looking squarely at the dance floor. He saw Junsu dancing with a small group of starstruck college students who kept smiling like they couldn't believe their luck. For the first time Yunho felt glad that Junsu was around.
Well, maybe not. If he had to be honest Yunho would much rather not have anyone else involved, but since someone else was already here anyway at least that someone was Junsu.
Once, long ago, in a dance studio he ran to in the middle of the night, Yunho felt that five was good number for a group. Once, five men had been able to change the whole world.
"I'm saying maybe you should find a minute," the new guy said, and this time there was no mistaking the growl.
A flirtatious laugh from nearby, a giggled "Oppa, why did I fall in love with you?" that was cut short when a man whose arms could seduce the whole dance floor started making out with his date. Yunho caught a glimpse of lips painted the color of aged wine before he started feeling indecent for watching.
Under normal circumstances the right thing to do was to walk away and not get involved. But then, Mirajane did say that they had the place surrounded. Tonight was no normal night out. And Yunho had friends in the crowd.
The time was right. There's no better team.
Yunho shook his head and put on that belittling smirk he'd practiced in front of the mirror over years and years of being reminded about the differences between 'us' and 'them'. Never mind that deep down he and the fans were no more than just people who walked different roads in life. Idols had to convince the audience that they were a world of glamour apart.
A glare for a glare. Yunho recognized the signs of careful fury. The eyes of a man who contained his anger just enough to keep from exploding.
Idols were masters of provocation.
Yunho nodded at him - a mockery of their pretend equality - and jerked his head to a dimly lit hallway that lead to a fire exit in the back alley. He didn't wait for the man's acknowledgement; Yunho may not have been a trained behaviorist but he knew all about barely-contained fury. He didn't have to doubt that the man would follow.
He'd learned to sense when people were on his heels. That was basic idol survival.
We have people outside watching that exit, said Mirajane, but there's a stretch of hall that's not covered by surveillance-
And you thought to mention this only now? Hwoarang interrupted. 'Alarmed' didn't quite capture the intensity in his voice.
Yunho had just enough time to think uh-oh before he heard his follower's footsteps change beat.
Even on stage, a misstep could be turned into adlib choreography by a sharp mind and a well-honed body. Dancers rarely fought by fist, but dance was all about bodily command. There was an exact state of mind that could translate grace to power.
Yunho twisted aside at the last instant, just at the right moment for the man's fist to graze his cheek and slide off his sweaty makeup. At the back of Yunho's mind the tiny insane part of his brain (that he'd inherited from Heechul) giddily thanked the makers of greasy foundation all over the world.
But the greater Yunho was more grounded, and though distant the muscle memory of a childhood of hapkido was ready to be called to front.
He spun on the balls of his feet, grabbed the man's elbow tightly and thrust the heel of his other hand towards his assailant's nose.
A basic lesson in self-defense: breaking the nose leads to tears. Tearful people were half-blind.
An ex idol trainee. Male. Probably a dancer. Haeun's words from earlier this evening. His level of talent doesn't matter. What matters is that he feels jilted.
The man twisted away with the same, familiar grace that Yunho used just a split-second prior, and Yunho was left with no doubt that whatever stopped this man from being idol, lack of talent definitely wasn't it. The man was good.
But no time to muse about that now.
Yunho stuck a knee forward and lunged too deep into the man's space for punches to be of any use. He spun his torso and bore his momentum through his shoulders to shove the guy with sheer blunt force, less about crushing bones and more about destroying balance. The man stumbled back and hit the wall, and slid down just in time to avoid Yunho's elbow jab.
That was bad.
Yunho didn't even feel the pain of the uppercut at first, all he knew was that the world suddenly dissolved in a flash of painful red light behind the dark of his eyes, and he lost all his breath and his lungs were demanding that he inhale right now this instant but his muscles weren't listening and the dull thump just now meant he hit the opposite wall and wow there was the pain-
He saw the man's fist closing in, slowed down in bullet time by all the adrenaline in his blood.
But he was in no condition to do anything about it. Except to brace his mind because his face was going to hurt-
Right from the edge of sight another hand shot out at lightning speed, grabbed the man's wrist just before it made contact with Yunho's face, and pushed the attacker off-balance. A quick blur of a hero in red - movement too fast for Yunho to follow - and the next moment Hwoarang had Yunho's attacker pushed hard against the wall with both hands stretched helplessly behind him.
"Careful, no breaking bones on private property," Haeun said as she strolled into Yunho's clearing line of sight. The man took one look at her and closed his eyes in submission. Outnumbered and definitely outclassed.
Good, Youngsoo commented flatly as if he was right there with them in the shadowed hall, as if everything happened according to plan. Use the backdoor, let's not advertise anything yet.
"You got it," Hwoarang said. "Anything you'd like to say while I'm not feeling so nasty, punk? Nothing? Good, I like friends who know when to keep quiet. Now don't do anything funny - just to let you know, I haven't broken anyone's bones all week and I'd like to keep it that way." Hwoarang pulled the man from his cozy meeting with the wall and marched him further down the hallway.
"Won't he get in trouble for that?" Yunho asked, still somewhat breathless as he pushed himself off the floor. He pressed a palm against his abs and felt the raw pain just beneath his skin. He won't be going topless for a while, not unless he wanted management to explode one way and the fans in another. "Handling someone so casually? Shouldn't there be legal language somewhere?"
Haeun raised an eyebrow at him. "For what? For stopping a fight between two private citizens while he was on his personal night out?"
There was nothing to do but stare as the adrenaline rush died down and the music started making itself heard once more. "What?"
"We didn't actually expect you to get into a fight, but it was a useful opening," Haeun said with a wink. "Besides, there's a reason why we didn't flash our badges right away." A quick glance at Yunho's expression. "Hey, I know it's dirty, but sometimes we have to fight dirty. The law doesn't always offer the sort of delicate handling we need for every situation."
If you're done with discussions of morality, Youngsoo's voice cut in sharply, Hyun Haeun-sshi, your job as a profiler awaits. Now.
"Go," Yunho said, trying not to wince. "I'll go back through the main exit. Besides, people are probably waiting for me back on the floor. I have to make a proper exit so the fans don't speculate about where I disappeared off to."
"Gotcha," Haeun said with a wink. "Make your exit as quickly as you can, we'll need your testament at the station."
Yunho took a few moments alone to recompose himself, to breathe steadily and wipe away the sweat of excitement with careful dabs of his handkerchief.
Soft footsteps approaching from the direction of the dance floor, barely unheard over the persistent thrumming bass. Yunho saw the leather jacket before the familiar grin. "Hey. I was looking for you."
"How many drinks do I have to turn down to get you off my back?" Yunho managed to say calmly, managed to snap back into his aloofly superior persona with the ease of practice. "I'm not interested, never will be." He squared his shoulders and headed back down the hall to the main area, ready to brush the man aside if he didn't give way.
But the stranger stepped to the right to let him through, even bowing slightly in pretend submission. Yunho ignored the mockery in the action and walked past-
A sharp prick in his lower back. A sudden tingling in his legs before his muscles turned to jelly. A brief flash of the floor as he almost collapsed, just before he slammed a palm against the wall to keep him somewhat upright.
"Quick reflexes. You're faster than the others," the man congratulated him from behind. "I guess I'll have to see more of that after you wake up."
Yunho, we have the wrong guy - Haeun's voice shouted in his ear.
No shit.
It took way too much effort to turn his head, way too long to register what must have happened. The man hid a hypodermic needle up his sleeve, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dowsed it with some clear liquid from a small liquor flask he kept in his jacket. It didn't take a huge leap of imagination to realize what it was.
The easy cheer in the man's smile brought home a sense of crawling doom. "Don't look so tired, you'll get plenty of rest soon."
But Yunho barely even heard it over the wheezy voice that boomed throughout the hall.
"HYUNG!"
The stranger was on the run with barely any moment of hesitation.
And Junsu was after him just as quickly, sprinting past Yunho on those short yet incredibly fast legs that allowed him to dominate the soccer field.
Junsu was not very good at math so the intricacies of momentum were entirely lost to him. But he was very good with speed.
The man had just enough time to twist the door handle before Junsu slammed bluntly into him, crushing them both against the cheap wood in a loud crash that Yunho knew just had to hurt even in this greatly slowed state of mind.
The problem was that Junsu was not a fighter, had never been in a fight in all his life, and had been very vocal about maintaining peace at all times. Junsu's ace in this confrontation was his build up. But up close and personal, he didn't have the right frame of mind to turn dancing into fighting.
Yunho pushed himself forward through sheer force of will, not believing himself helpless as the man pulled out his needle and close in on a still-dazed Junsu.
A swift whisper of a breeze grazed the edge of Yunho's ear. A quick flash of something white. And suddenly the man was clutching the side of his arm and stumbling back with the same rubbery grace that Yunho felt in his limbs. The struggle stopped too soon; he just wasn't moving anymore.
Precise, measured strides. Mirajane leaned beside Yunho and helped him stand up. A figure of complete and utter confidence, with the assurance of what she can do no matter how tiny her air pistol. After all, among the sharpshooters she was the very best. Like no one ever was. "I have him, unnie. The hallyu stars are safe."
Stars? Plural? Hwoarang asked, concerned.
"Yes, the short and lumpy one intervened just in time. Both are safe although slightly worse for wear."
"Who are you?" Junsu asked shakily. He took one glance at the downed man to make sure he was harmless before watching Yunho try to walk with unsteady legs. Yunho succeeded thanks only to Mirajane's assistance.
"A friend," Yunho managed to grumble loudly enough, despite lips that felt like they were made of lead. Junsu nodded and made his way over to carry the brunt of Yunho's weight.
"I am the secret weapon," Mirajane said shortly as they assisted Yunho to the end of the hall. No way could Yunho make a proper exit through the dance floor now.
The door slammed open. Hwoarang stormed through with his fists raised and relaxed his guard only when he saw the collapsed heap just beyond the door. Haeun was right on his heels.
"That's the guy," Yunho mumbled as their awkward group drew level with the other two. "He had drugs and everything."
Haeun peered into Yunho's eyes and sighed deeply. "We'll need to get you checked over, make sure he didn't use anything too destructive. Mirajane, get him to the hospital. Hwoarang and I will finish up at the station and get a statement from Yunho-sshi as soon as the doctors clear his health."
"What's going on?" Junsu asked. "Hyung, who are all these people?"
"They're..." Well, how could Yunho describe them? How could he really? "They're my idols. I'm a huge fan."
"Greasy," Hwoarang said with a sneer.
"Sweet," Haeun countered, then after mulling it over, "but yeah, also kind of greasy."
Mirajane had no comment.
The doctors wanted to keep Yunho under observation for twenty-four hours, which was about forty-eight hours longer than Yunho's managers wanted to allow. Inspector Youngsoo's intervention managed to get him twelve hours of medical leave and honestly that was a whole day more than Yunho thought he was going to get.
The doctors who came to see him wore strained expressions, which as far as Yunho was concerned was good news: if they weren't fake smiling then he was probably going to be okay.
"It was just a muscle relaxant," Haeun told him. "Medical-grade, even, so there won't be any lasting damage. I think the doctors are just concerned about the possibility of an overdose." Haeun grinned. "And I think they want to keep you away from your managers right now."
Yunho laughed at the truth in that. One of the managers had suggested pumping Yunho with stimulants so he could make up for lost rehearsal time. The doctors had been very vocal about what they thought of that suggestion. "Well. I'm still alive, aren't I? And I've been through worse."
Whatever reaction he'd been expecting Haeun to have, a bitter smile wasn't at the top of Yunho's list. "You came very close," Haeun said solemnly, "to experiencing a form of hell on earth that nobody deserves."
According to Haeun, the district's vast resources of citizen identification databases led to a goldmine of peripheral information that Youngsoo coordinated quickly to his counterpart in the search and rescue team. Youngsoo hustled his group to assist in the rescue initiative as soon as Mirajane announced that Yunho was safely in the hospital's custody.
Haeun looked like she hadn't slept for three days by the time she came to Yunho just before dawn. She wouldn't tell him what they found; she deferred that decision to Youngsoo instead, whom she promised would personally visit Yunho for some need-to-know disclosure.
Still, Haeun had her own fair share of stories to tell. "That guy who assaulted you first. Didn't he look familiar?" Yunho's furrowed eyebrows were answers enough. "Apparently, you knew each other years before. From a dance group in Jeonlado?"
A vague flash of memory that didn't resolve into anything definite, no matter how much Yunho pursued the thought. "But I left that group a decade ago."
Haeun shrugged tiredly. "Not all wounds are healed by time. Some wounds fester and rot when left too long. His anger is not your mistake, Yunho-sshi," Haeun clarified as he saw Yunho's face darken. "You left the group to pursue your dreams, and you were free to do that. That he felt you should have shared your success with them is not your fault. He never made the choice to stop hurting even all these years past. That isn't up to you."
"Lost dreams, huh?" Yunho said quietly.
"Few people are as lucky as U-Know Yunho."
Not that Yunho had to be reminded. That was how the world worked, and it worked so consistently that Yunho had learned to turn his eyes away from the bitter reminders every day.
The door opened. Youngsoo entered, looking no worse for wear than any other time Yunho saw him.
Haeun gathered her things and stood up. "I'd better go. This isn't a talk I want to be around for."
"Get some sleep," Youngsoo told her as she bowed.
"Yes, sir," Haeun answered in tones that clearly said maybe not in this reality but maybe alcohol will help. Then to Yunho, "It was great working with you, hallyu star-sshi. I'll try to catch your next concert. Hopefully I won't be too busy with, you know, saving the world or whatever."
"Your backstage passes are on me," Yunho called after her just as she closed the door. Youngsoo took her place on the bedside chair.
"I doubt she'll attend your concerts," Youngsoo said as he opened his briefcase and sorted through the files.
"That's too bad. But I'm sure we idols aren't the only busy people in the world."
"That is true, but that's not the main reason. What do you think about passion, Jung Yunho-sshi?"
"I could say so many things," Yunho admitted. "But I know that you're looking for a specific answer. I don't know which one to give."
"During her teenage years, Hyun Haeun was part of an idol group that disbanded before they could make their mark." Youngsoo passed Yunho a laminated album cover in varying shades of pink and purple. "Glitter came out in late 2003 as the rising sun of the girl group genre. They then disbanded early the following year after their debut received lukewarm response at best. That is, unfortunately, the most one could say about them. Hyun Haeun, their leader, went on to live a private life until she became the woman you know today. She kept this aspect of her past a secret until we were assigned this case, and even then she revealed it only to me."
"What for?" Yunho asked, surprised. In the brief time he'd known Haeun she had never shown even a moment of self-doubt. "I mean, sure Hwoarang can be a bit brash and maybe Mirajane won't get all the fuss, but I don't think it would have been a big deal?"
"It is to her." Youngsoo gently took back the album cover and carefully hid it beneath all the other contents of his briefcase. "Haeun is a living testament to finding happiness in life even if one had not been able to pursue his or her dreams. Even to this day, performing on stage is still what Haeun dreams of doing. But even though she doesn't get to do it for a living, it does not mean that Hyun Haeun is not living a happy and fulfilled life."
Yunho can attest to that. And it wasn't just Haeun; Yunho had countless friends from training days who didn't get to debut, but they emailed each other every once in a while and by and large everyone seemed happy. The most powerful dancer in their batch couldn't stay in tune no matter how hard he tried. Barely two years as a kitchen hand later, he won a scholarship to study in one of the most prestigious schools for the culinary arts in Italy.
The inspector's voice took on the detached tone that Yunho thought he should be famous for. "Sadly, not everyone handles disappointment so constructively. Haeun, among countless other failed idols and trainees, eventually moved on and found niches for themselves. But a rare few - and thankfully they are so few - bottle the devastation inside themselves, where it rots and turns into a form of anger that corrupts the rest of their mind. This is the kind of person you faced last night."
But then that man didn't seem angry at all, not with how he grinned so easily and teased even as he methodologically incapacitated an idol in a half-hidden hallway of a populated club.
"Kim Minjun is alive," Youngsoo interrupted Yunho's thoughts without preamble, leaving Yunho to follow the discussion on his own, "in a... very specific sense of the word. The doctors are working hard to stabilize his condition and the therapists assured me that their program will rehabilitate his body enough for him to be able to eat unassisted once more. Unfortunately, returning to his life as an idol is out of the question."
The words and their echoes took too long to fade. The horror was there to stay.
"And... Dongwoo? And Junhyung?"
Youngsoo's return to an expression of blankness was informative. "Jung Yunho-sshi. It takes practice to live a life where every night's sleep is an invitation for gruesome dreams."
"It's a good thing I don't get much sleep, then."
Youngsoo's lingering glance at the determination in Yunho's eyes had the same detached distance that the company's instructors used on their trainees. Everything was an exam. He drew out a single manila folder - thin and light enough to suggest that there was only one sheet inside - from the depths of his case and delicately placed it on Yunho's lap.
Still. Some things had to be pursued. "What will you tell Beast? What will you tell Infinite? 2PM? What will you tell their families?"
Whatever silent exam it was, Youngsoo's long-suffering sigh was human enough for Yunho to live with. "We will tell them enough of the truth for closure and healing to still be possible. In some instances, the fewer that people know the better they can live their lives. Not all censorship is evil; sometimes we keep secrets for the sake of the very same people who must not know about them. It is not up to us to determine what Jang Dongwoo and Yong Junhyung will be remembered for, but in honor of their memories they should not be remembered for this."
Yunho stared at the blank, unassuming folder that blended so well with the hospital's blanket.
It was all too late to do anything else. It's become a matter of memories concealed behind cheap white cardboard, kept secret from the people whom the fallen would call their own families.
A careful flick of the wrist to indulge a filtered truth: two young men, both hauntingly familiar, bleached porcelain white and carefully dressed in idols' clothes propped like mannequins caught in mid dance. Bright futures reduced to these, all because they lived a dream denied to somebody they didn't even know.
Yunho said nothing more even as Inspector Youngsoo gathered all his files and promised him one last visit in the very near future. Bureaucracy commanded that some papers be signed, though now wasn't exactly the right time and Youngsoo only acknowledged that out of respect for Yunho's contributions.
They say that someone is not truly dead until the last ripples of their life have faded away. Until the last fruits of the seeds they planted have been gathered and eaten. Until the last block of wood they chopped have been burned in the furnace. Maybe, in this day and age, until the last echoes of the songs they sang have stopped playing in the memories of those who loved them.
Maybe through memories people can really live on.
But then, if memories were made of only good things then what Yunho had were not the substance of reminiscences.
Still. Reality cared nothing for kindness.
The least Yunho could do was to remember the truth.