Chapter Text
"Danielle!" Mira cries, making her jump in her place. The brunette woman looked far less than pleased as she pinched the bridge of her nose and looked at her hawkishly. "Please remind my dancers of what is in a few weeks."
Sweat-soaked chest rising and falling, Danielle turns and faces the students Mira is instructing. She regretted her decision to give in to her friend's pleas to co-tutor her contemporary class before their upcoming gig.
Her eyes flit to the dancers. "Chuseok."
Mira nods zealously. "And what happens on Chuseok?" Sweat sticks Danielle's skin to her uncomfortably thin tights.
"Our sold out performance at Metropolitan Theatre Hall." Mira clears her throat. Danielle groans, annoyed. "That will be attended by one hundred of Korea's most elite individuals." She drawled, the piece permanently inscribed in her mind from the appalling number of times she's had to recite it.
Mira blows away a stray strand of hair that has escaped her immaculate crown braid. She crosses her arms, the very image of perfection. "Exactly! And yet, I am still looking at loose thumbs and sickled feet worse than any beginner's class." Her voice screeches. "You're all supposed to be the crème de la crème of the scene, and yet you manage to be more awful than novices."
Everyone shuffles on their feet in awkward silence. Danielle doesn't blame the woman - Mira has always been passionate about her art. It was no wonder that she ran her dance studio like the navy.
Otherwise, Mira was nice to a fault; sweeter than candy, kind, polite, didn't ask too many questions, didn't make things difficult for anyone despite being a filthy rich heiress and romantic partner to Lee Group's sole heir, didn't ever pry into what didn't concern her, which was to say she had zero problems treating Danielle Park as any other overworked and underpaid sub-instructor.
"As if any of us needs any more of whatever this is." Someone scoffs from the back of the class, voice shrill and grating like nails raking over a chalkboard. "Unlike the rest of us, all little princesses need to do is bat their eyelashes and their rich families will buy out Chuseok headlines to sing their praises." Danielle grows stiff at the comment.
Mira gives her an ashamed and apologetic look before shouting at the owner of the voice. "One more word from you Yui, and I'll have you practise with the bird head on .” Yui huffs through her nose ( plastic, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jace seems to whisper in her ear), but quiets. Mira's lips are pulled down in a frown. "All of you are dismissed for the day- Go get some rest, I expect everyone to be present here at 5 am sharp and back in their best form! And for the love of God, clean your lockers!"
Heaving a collective sigh of relief, the group of dancers scatters to collect their belongings and change out of their clothes. Danielle folds to the floor, her sweaty back sliding against the fogged-up mirror.
Mira, ever observant, glides over beside her with the impeccable poise only a performer of her calibre could possess. Danielle rubs at her eyes, the heels of her palms pressing down into her sockets in a truly pathetic attempt to do away the familiar burning sensation.She’s not about to cry, not here of all places, and not over childish mockery- f*cking hell, she’s already twenty-
“Not now," She murmurs. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” Her friend pats her back. “You know, Dani-” Danielle groans. “I may have asked you for a favour this time around because your beloved uncle adores you, and by extension, he will only be more delighted to witness the performance you mentored.” If this was Mira’s way of making her feel better, she sucked at it.
“But- oh, don’t you give me that look- you are the only reason I even considered going through this method of getting into Charles Choi’s good graces. Your talent.” She gives her an awkward punch on the thigh. “Stop doubting yourself. You are one of the best in the game.” She smacks her chest. “Now get up!."
Mira stands up and Danielle slumps on the ground like some wounded baby animal. “Thanks, Mira.” Her friend raises a dismissive hand, not turning back when she slings her bag over her shoulder and exits through the studio door. However, Danielle is quite certain that Mira is grinning widely.
The door clicks shut softly, and for the very first time in 12 hours, she is completely alone. Danielle gazes at her bedraggled reflection in the mirrored studio ceilings.
She looked like the world's tallest pile of garbage - like Frankenstein's monster, if the monster was filled with the anxiety levels of a rabbit being hunted for sport.
In a few short weeks, her entire, extended, enormous family would be travelling from every corner of the world to join the Chuseok celebrations. Her uncle, Charles Choi, was an old man succumbing to his wilful desires- and this time, it was an ardent wish to be close to his ‘children’ (read : rag-tag band of mentees consisting of suspected murderers, confirmed narcissists, and incorrigible psychopaths who should have been contained in high-security prisons but were somehow living freely as reformed delinquents and tremendously successful and influential figures across a legion of disciplines, thank you, uncle Charles) .
And for all the humming and hawing, all of their family would surely do their best ( or worst , depending on who you asked) to accommodate the old man’s whims and fancies.
At any rate, Danielle is doubtful that she will see Chuseok alive.
She would also see him, then, after almost a whole year.
Before her thoughts descend into the treacherous recesses of the past, her phone starts ringing from her dance bag shoved beneath a window, Duke’s new release - peaked #5 on the Billboard Hot 100 - blaring from its speakers and echoing in the empty studio.
A stunning photo of Jane doing a one-handed keg stand on a yacht, and beside her a horrified-looking Johan pulling the satin of her Versace gown up with one hand, as his other hand drags forward Jace and Vasco by the collar of their leather jackets- both passed out behind him and entwined akin to the Caduceus serpents- stares back at her, in all its f*cked-up, renaissance painting glory.
She swipes at the answer button and presses the phone to her ear. “What’s wrong?”
The cacophony of traffic blasts her ear, as if in divine answer, and Danielle winces back.
“Dani! Dani, Dani , Danielle! ” Jane sing-songs over the discordant traffic. “Are you finished with practice?”
Her right ear is ringing, and she can feel the oncoming headache between her brows. “Yes, I am leaving the studio- take me off the speaker phone!”
A string of loud honking booms from the other side, and a familiar voice shouts at Jane to Pay attention! You’re going to get us all killed—
“Can’t, I’m driving!”
“ Horribly, ” Danielle, and another voice that she doesn’t recognize immediately, reply in sync.
“Both of you shut up. Danielle, meet us at DB2!” Though Danielle is presently unable to experience Jane's driving, nor can she determine the identities of her cousin’s immediate victims, she wholeheartedly prays for whichever unlucky fool was unfortunate enough to get inside a car with Jane behind the wheel. Her cousin drove her Porsche 911 like she was Suki from 2 Fast 2 Furious, and not the very same person who had landed a ticket for driving drunk whilst being stone-cold sober.
It was to absolutely nobody's surprise that Sinu Han and Samuel Seo, two men who would dig their own heart out if Jane just happened to ask of them, would without a moment's hesitation lie down on the Gyeongbu Expressway at 8 AM on a Monday morning before letting her touch their beloved Bentley Flying Spur (Sinu) or Mercedes AMG G63 (Samuel) with a ten-foot pole.
She sighs heavily. “Unnie, I’m about to pass out . I can’t wait to go home, take a hot shower, and cuddle Inu to sleep.”
“You can jerk off and wallow in misery later.” Danielle rolls her eyes. The loud screeching of tires can be heard from across the phone. “No but seriously, I have to fill you in on what's going on. You still keep the group chat on mute? Wait. Were you even added back in after you and Goo fought and somehow managed to kick each other out? Huh? Whatever, never you mind. No need to bother with any of that. I’ll see you in ten!” She doesn’t get a word of argument across before her cousin hangs up.
Chucking her phone back inside her sponsored Saint Laurent duffle bag, she picks it, and herself, up and off the floor before finally trudging towards the changing room.
It looks empty enough, and she is in a hurry. She hops into a cold shower after peeling off her tights.
Danielle's family lore could rival even the most successful creations of award-winning screenwriters, surpassing the best of what they could ever come up with by degrees of sheer unpredictability, ridiculousness, and raw entertainment value. There were only so many people in the world who would wake up to texts from their chronically offline friends asking if the leaked dick pictures were really Tom Lee’s (they were, they always were).
A few minutes later, she emerges from the shower booth in a hastily tugged-on cropped tee and low waist flared jeans that leave her midriff bare to the early autumn chill.
"Surprised you would still hang around here. Don't you have some sponsor to please, or does your uncle dearest take care of that for you?"
Danielle's peace has always been short-lived. She grits her teeth and prays to whatever deity is willing to lend a listening ear for some semblance of forbearance, tolerance, and restraint, as she pins her wet hair away from her face.
Yui Kim is a second-tier rich kid placed on standby by Mira. Danielle's cousin Crystal had once vigorously promoted Yui as the top streamer of her newly-acquired live streaming service, but the special treatment dealt out to Yui by her cousin had long since decelerated. Reality had diverged from Yui's pipe dreams of monopolising Crystal Choi's attention (and ultimately monopolising her company's resources). Crystal was a ruthless employer, the type that admired the ambitious but detested the covetous, especially when their greed didn't match their aptitude.
Crystal liked pretty, clever, and wild girls. She liked fast cars and even faster women. But she wouldn't bed any girl that would throw herself at her, even before and especially now, with her finally settling down with her girlfriend. Yui had precisely failed to grasp the impatient undertone of Crystal's ubiquitous disinterest.
Yui Kim reeked of poorly-concealed inferiority and incompetence under the clawing scent of her perfume.
"Hello, Yui! It's always good to see you too. Has my dear cousin finally abandoned you?" Yui bristles visibly and Danielle unconsciously steps back and takes a look at their surroundings. There were no cameras inside, for obvious reasons, but there could be people outside still loitering about outside the door.
" Crazy bitch. Watch your back, people may easily be jealous of the way your lovely uncle has financed your way to the top."
People like you, Danielle wants to sneer.
"Miss Kim, you're so cool and likeable," she beams at Yui instead."Thanks for looking out for weak little me. By the way- Don't you have some lovely bird heads to try on? Better not keep your teacher waiting."
She continues to smile. Yui stomps forcefully like a moody child, before turning on her heel and marching out of the changing rooms.
Danielle's grin drops when her breath suddenly speeds up, and she has to cross her hands over her chest and start tapping - one, two, three, four, five, six, seven - the way her therapist had advised. She pictures Inu jumping into her arms, and the tomato seeds that she had planted in the cute misshapen pot Vasco had made for her in the pottery class he had taken over Christmas. She takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and exhales from the bottom of her chest.
Once her wildly racing heart starts to beat normally once again, she checks her bag for her belongings, and heads towards the elevators.
Following Jane's command, she ignores the family group chat in favour of checking her mail and socials.
Being a known member of the most renowned (read : notorious) family in South Korea, and one among the most famous (again, read : infamous) families in the entire world, along with the career that she had built upon four laborious years of insurmountable enduring- a career she treasured with her entire life- had garnered her the sizeable following of a hundred million on instagram. Her account primarily featured videos of her cooking, and photos of her for campaigns, on vacation, magazine covers, movie promotional material, dance practice, recording sessions, and of course, her darling golden retriever Inu. On one occasion she had posted a story with a shirtless Johan in the background and to this day, Mr. Kim had to put in hours discarding the modelling contracts that kept being sent to the White Tiger Job Centre.
The elevator doors open, and she presses the garage button. Whatever was going on, had undoubtedly left Jane in a state of frenzy- which didn't essentially mean a lot when coming from the same woman who had dialled Danielle at 3 AM on a random Wednesday in absolute hysterics, making her think that someone (Tom Lee from cirrhosis or Goo in a bar fight) had finally died. Jane would protest that having her favourite couple call it quits on Single's Inferno was equally painful, perhaps even more so than Tom croaking, but Danielle– Actually, no. She didn’t digress on that one.
Stepping into the parking garage, she heads towards her cherry-red Chevrolet Corvette, a gift from Crystal for her nineteenth birthday. Danielle wasn't very knowledgeable about cars, but Eugene had said this one was good. Danielle herself quite liked it, and drove it whenever she could. Sliding in, she throws her bag on the passenger seat. After plugging her phone in, she opens the music app, and hits play on Duke's new album.
The drive to DB2’s is an easy one; she had memorised the route when Sinu drove her to third-wheel his date with her cousin last Saturday - at her cousin’s behest, of course .
(Dani, are you planning ahead to get yourself a 3-hour special on Celebrity Suicides? Aunt Jinyoung told me you weren’t answering her calls for two weeks! Know what? Let's meet up. I will check with my very own eyes whether you've been replaced by a meat puppet that does ballet .)
There was only so much you could do, besides pretending to be busy on your phone, to avoid shrivelling up and dying from the secondhand embarrassment from witnessing a grown man - a well-respected citizen of the nation at that- whine like a lovesick pup and make heart eyes at his girlfriend, who unfortunately happened to be your very own cousin.
The club is located in an upscale neighbourhood. She makes it to the establishment unscathed, and pulls in beside Jane's flashy cobalt-blue sports car. It’s evening, and the heart of Seoul is very much alive. Which is to say, it was noisy beyond measure or reason and, to top it off, Danielle had once again forgotten to take her meds.
The middle-aged manager of the VIP area leads her up a secluded flight of stairs leading to the door of a private room, behind which her cousin and Johan sit across from someone with their back facing Danielle.
Jane spots her, and waves excitedly. Her cousin looks like the archetypal femme fatale, like a true Machiavellian minx — enticing, yet unapproachable. Her long bob of dark hair looks silky smooth and she's wearing a vintage Ralph Lauren number : navy blue three piece, paired with slim Gucci tortoiseshell rectangular sunglasses, which are perched low on her nose. She had also gotten done a set of long red acrylics, which she grumbled broke more often than not, but would nonetheless get done for the "sentimental value of doing it"- her words, not Danielle's. She looked gorgeous, but that was just the kind of magnificence expected from the youngest entry ever on Forbes’ list of the world’s most powerful women.
With the looks of a cherub and the countenance of a poisonous spider, Johan is seated beside her cousin in his usual mercenary bodyguard ( eh, semantics) off-duty attire consisting of loose red sweatpants, a well-worn white tee shirt, and a bomber jacket. His wild auburn mullet has been pulled back in a low ponytail. He gives her a quick, expressionless nod of acknowledgement – his equivalent of displaying profound enthusiasm.
The person sitting across from them turns and Danielle releases a vehement sigh of defeat.
“And just why the f*ck is this kid here?” Kenta Magami makes an aggrieved noise which she ignores, instead settling down beside him on the leather couch.“I thought he was supposed to be in Shinjuku until the summit.”
Kenta huffs in displeasure. “It’s Daruma to you. Also, I’m literally right here ?" Danielle tells the manager to get her a cup of iced oolong milk tea, paying no heed to this seventeen year old boy with a typical middle-school syndrome. “Anyways,” Kenta continues once the manager has left, “I arrived early to reserve a front row seat to the sh*t show going down at the f*ck factory.”
Danielle frowns and raises an eyebrow . “sh*t show at the f*ck factory?” The manager returns moments later with her drink and places it in front of her. He bows, and shuts the door with him as he leaves.
Meanwhile, Jane had taken out her phone with a very enlivened expression on her face. “Did you peek? I hope you didn’t.” She taps her glittering nails on her bejewelled phone case. “‘Cause, like I said, it’s bad. ”
Danielle’s eyes lower slightly. She takes a sip of her cold milk tea. The fresh, mellow milk and refreshing tea fragrance blend together beautifully. The ice numbs her tongue and teeth. “Vin’s rap career bad, or Kouji getting fined five hundred grand for investment fraud after promoting a ponzi scheme on his Twitch account of eighteen million,” (eighteen-point-four, Johan butts in) , “Eighteen-point-four million followers bad?”
Jane’s fox eyes gleam and her red lips stretch into a feline grin. “Uncle Charles’ fiftieth birthday party bad. ”
Danielle mourned her iced tea as she set it down. Who didn’t remember that party? A total of eight individuals- Tom Lee, Mandeok, Yuseong, Vin, Vasco, Johan, Warren, Samuel- had gotten themselves booked by the SMPA for attempted manslaughter and endangering their premises.
Jane hands her the phone, the screen facing down. She picks it up and glances at her cousin and her friend, before shutting her eyes and flipping it over.
“I swear on everything holy and not , if this is another disconcertingly HD photo of Goo’s ass from his trip to Sanya, I will fling myself off this building and never speak to any of you ever again.” Johan snorts, and Kenta mutters something about them never speaking in the first place so Danielle finally cracks her eyes open and peeks at the phone screen.
She almost wants to applaud the her from a minute ago for having the foresight to set her drink down and not sip it until this very moment in time.
“Park Jong Geon Officially Takes Over as CEO of HNH Holding Company.
Multi-billionaire Choi Dong Soo's mentee steps in as CEO of Elite.
Park Jong Geon, long-time mentee of South-Korean billionaire Choi Dong Soo, is officially stepping in as the acting chief executive of HNH Group, the holding company that controls the luxury goods conglomerate, Elite, as well as a number of other enterprises. Park Jong Geon replaces the 55-year-old Lee Do Gyu as CEO, who is the founder of leading security company White Tiger, and former acting vice-chairman of Korean multinational conglomerate Workers. Eugene (mentee of Choi Dong Soo and founder of Workers) still remains the chairman and CEO of Workers.``
The numbness at the back of her tongue spreads to the top of her head, then reaches the tip of her toes. "What the… "
"f*ck? I know right!" Jane sounds way too thrilled for someone Danielle likes to consider a worthy comrade-in-arms.
"Why would uncle ever do this?" She shakes her head woefully. Johan passes her a napkin. "Thanks." She uses it to wipe her hands, before crumbling it with a bit more force than necessary.
"Probably because Gun's best-suited for the position," Kenta pipes in. Danielle is once again made painfully aware of the fact that the Magami kid worshipped Gun.
Upon closer inspection, it was distressingly evident; LV shirt and dress pants - check. Gucci belt and loafers - check. Comme des Garçons belt chain - check. Hérmes silk scarf - check. And a distinct insufferableness to tie all the separate components of his outfit together.
From his mannerisms, to his clothing- he and his 47 chromosomes were a vivid testament to the ardent admiration only fans could hold for their idols.
A scene from a year ago flashes before her eyes, darkness seeping through the edges of her vision.
The man takes a long drag of his Marlboro. "Magami Ryuujo had once been my teacher, you know." His arm tightens around her sweat-damp waist.
Danielle's cheek rests against his scarred shoulder, having finished running her tongue over the ink of his tattoos.
She curls his wet hair around her fingers, and gives it a playful tug. The man hisses loudly, but doesn't reach to stop her. Suddenly feeling a little bold, she takes the tip of his ear between her teeth and bites down, which results in a harsh smack landing against the back of her thighs. She mewls at the dull pain of the hit, and the tiniest pinpricks of pleasure begin to shoot up her spine.
He runs his large, calloused hand over her reddened flesh and begins squeezing her ass. His silver rings dig into her heated skin.
"The boy you saw hovering around me today is his only son, Kenta."
She rubs at her temples, not for the first time in the past hour. "Does uncle have a fetish for nearly making me kill myself? Like "just the tip" but for goading me into suicide ?"
Johan rolls his eyes, like the world's bitchiest mime. "Now you're being too dramatic. Nothing's ever that serious." Danielle doesn't deign him worthy of acknowledgement. Jane shrugs, not lifting her head from where she's busy tapping away on her phone.
Kenta has the cheek to look proud. "I mean, I get why he was picked. Crystal Choi will be chairman, Goo's a sh*t piñata, DG is… well, DG, and of course" -he glances at Danielle- "you are you. Meanwhile, Gun handled last year's territory disputes in Hokkaido and Kanto region all by himself. With his sh*tty eyesight too, mind you."
"Don't get it twisted," Danielle scowls. "I wasn't a candidate for successor in the first place."
"Damn Magami, do you ask him for headpats every time you butter his bean pole?" Johan jeers from beside Kenta, whose ears redden as he takes a sip of his own mocha latte.
Danielle slams her forehead against the table, hoping against all hope that it would crack open and her brains would spill out- just like those possessed girls from Goo's indie horror DVD collection. DG would no doubt chew her out in the afterlife for sinking PTJ's stocks with her untimely demise, so she puts an abrupt halt to that train of thought.
All she wants to do is watch the true crime documentary she has been putting off for weeks, and cuddle Inu to sleep.
"I need a f*cking smoke." She fishes around in her bag for her lighter and pack of Eve. Johan stifles a yawn behind his hand. "Give one to me too."
"You smoke?" Kenta sounds genuinely confused. "Isn't that, like, bad press in your line of work?"
Danielle hands Johan a cigarette, and puts another between her teeth. "You know what else is bad press in my line of work?" She lights her own cigarette before tossing the lighter to Johan, who catches it promptly. "Me setting myself on fire the very second you ask me another question." Kenta makes an affronted noise, and Jane giggles.
She blows a smoke ring, the nicotine filling her senses and moderately scratching the itch seething beneath her skin. Another hit, and she opens her phone and switches the notifications back on. A torrent of messages and missed calls come pouring in.
jane not the virgin 👩👦👦
uh-oh 🙈
boss kang 🤴🏻🙇🏻♀️
attached : Workplace Romances: Usually a Bad Idea
sherlock grandfather 🕵️♂️
ngl i feel like offing myself on ur behalf
Vasco🐶
missed calls (75)
Vasco🐶
ARE U OKAYYY
crys<3🔮
I'm going to be in meetings for the rest of the day. No need to dial back. Text me if you need anyone to have a very convenient accident 💗
crys<3🔮
missed calls(20)
crys<3🔮
Did you reach home
hepatitis g 🐤
*alive
hepatitis g 🐤
hope ur still alove
zack 😎🤏🕶🥺
attached : The_PeopleHerald on TikTok
is this true 🗿
hepatitis g 🐤
ur at practice or what ???
hepatitis g 🐤
should i check
hepatitis g 🐤
u think ghostface got her before i did
hepatitis g 🐤
yo what crawled up crystals ass this morning and died? she made me lose my lol match to kouji with all her loud ass screaming
👹👺
I'm back in Seoul. I will see you.
"Gun's back?" she hisses. Jane purses her lips in a flat, amused line and Johan has tilted his head to study the glittering lights on the ceiling with great interest. " Of course you both knew. Traitors. " Jane ignores her in favour of not-so-subtly slamming her heeled foot on Johan's slides under the table.
Johan shrieks. " Jesus woman ! f*cking learn to use your words!" He rubs at his toe, groaning. "And yes. Gun is back in Seoul, like a pedo on parole. Can't really run a company if you aren't there." Danielle's stomach drops.
"Why’re you so worked up over it anyway? I get the whole," Kenta gestures vaguely at his right arm. " Clavicle fracture thing , but that was years ago and it's not like he's planning to get away with breaking yours now."
Jane for some reason decides that now is her time to prove that she is, indeed, the daughter of the hellspawn that had been Kim Gapryong.
"Probably has more to do with the virginity thing."
Kenta chokes. Danielle's pretty sure Jane is getting revenge for the time she had declassified the dumpster fire labelled "PARK JIHO : DO NOT DECLASSIFY" in bold red letters, to Samuel. However, in her defence, she was passed out and half-drowned in a punch bowl at Vivi and Xiaolung's wedding anniversary party, and Jiho was Danielle's ex too, she was allowed to bemoan her horrible life decions, for f*ck's sake. It wasn’t her fault for not being aware that Samuel, that f*cking psychopath, connected dots better than any detective on a payroll. Besides, the jealousy fuelled sex she had with that madman had admittedly been pretty good, and Danielle was deserving of nothing but gratitude for being the one to make it happen.
Kenta looks flabbergasted. "What virginity thing?" Danielle glares threateningly at her cousin, who once again blissfully ignores her.
"Gun took Danielle's virginity three years ago in Milan." Kenta's jaw hangs low in veritable shock. Guess 'if you breathe a word of this to any soul, dead or living, i will drive your car off mapo bridge because if i have to die it's only after making sure you're going to jail' didn't mean anything at all to anyone any more.
Danielle stands up and hauls her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah, that's it. I'm leaving. Hope I miss a stair and break my neck on the way down." Johan clicks his tongue and gets up from his seat.
"As if there's anyone left to know everything that there's to know. And it's not like Kenta will tell on you." Jane beams cheerfully at the boy in question. "He could find the Ark of the Covenant and the Second Affiliate’s board of directors would still manage to jokingly dismiss it." Kenta makes another wounded noise.
"Whatever. I have to get home– Inu needs a refill and I need to take a shower and sleep" She nods at Johan, before turning to her cousin. "Anyways… I'll see you soon?"
"Probably not. Sammy and I have to meet with National Assemblyman Min before his dementia kicks in again."
Danielle frowns. "I thought Assemblyman Min had died? You were granted the exclusive broadcasting rights for his funeral."
Jane shrugs. " That was his father. He is alive , though he's mostly intravenous. He's got so many tubes in him, he looks like a set of bagpipes. Soon we’ll be broadcasting this one too, don’t worry."
The mental image is not the most pleasant one to have, so she nods begrudgingly and refrains from pursuing the topic any further.
Out of nowhere, Kenta laments– "I think I too need a shower after learning Gun has been inside you." Johan twists the boy’s ear, making him wail.
"Bye, kiddo." Danielle smacks the back of his head. "See you around." Kenta only waves in response, and she turns and heads outside the doors, making her way down without missing a single stair, and the crisp autumn wind smacks her in the face as she makes her way to her car.
Sliding in, Danielle presses her forehead to the steering and breathing shakily, tries to reconcile herself to the imminent reality of her future and finances now resting in the hands of the same guy whose collarbone she had broken on their very first meeting, the same guy she had led inside swanky Milan hotel room and let f*ck her an innumerable many times in the two years they spent as boss and subordinate.
Oh, and also the same guy she had ghosted for the better part of this year and the one before.
Taking a deep breath, she sets her course for her apartment and embarks on the drive home.
____________
Danielle arrives at her apartment at exactly twenty minutes past nine, glances sideways, and smiles at the security guard/doorman. An eerie sense of déjà vu swells inside her chest.
Sometimes, life is nothing short of a horror movie.
You make all the wrong choices- that is, if you get to choose at all. You ignore the ringing of the warning bells. And then you end up all alone in the grand finale, bathed in blood (you aren’t really sure whose), wondering where it all went wrong.
The ding of her phone notifications continues to echo throughout the empty elevator, and Danielle gives in, sneaking a peek at her phone screen. Her lock screen wallpaper is a photo of Inu trying on the polka dot shirt she had her tailored- now unfortunately blighted by the texts flooding in.
👹👺
You are still as brave as always. As infuriating, too.
👹👺
I know you're reading my messages - you have left your read receipts on, as always.
Reading Gun's texts gives Danielle gooseflesh and not just because his level of attention to the usage of proper grammar could bring Patrick Bateman to shame.
The mortifying but ultimately undeniable truth is, she wants to see Gun Park. He may be a bit more than batsh*t insane and has most definitely killed someone (or multiple someones, to be more fair and precise), but for a weird and off-putting dude, he is hung like a mythical beast. The two years that they had spent hooking up (including the notable 'milan hotel one night deflowering love affair' as Jace had once called it) had easily been the best lays in all of Danielle's pitifully minuscule sex life.
The elevator doors open to her floor and Danielle unlocks the door to her apartment, walking in and hanging her keys on the holder mounted on the wall beside the door. She bends down to remove her pumps, and carries them to the shoe rack down the corridor.
Truthfully, she had ghosted Gun on a debilitating impulse. That, and the threat of crippling embarrassment from getting caught with her skirts down for a man who had lied to her on multiple occasions- including the time they made vacation plans for Paris and he f*cked off to Japan on they day of the flight. She had been kept completely in the dark about his whereabouts until a month later when Goo had ascertained that Gun was, in fact, still very much alive- like a persistent co*ckroach (his words, not Danielle's).
Throwing her phone on her living room sofa, she makes her decision.
Gun Park will not be getting his dick wet this time, with none other to blame for it but himself.
Inu barks loudly from behind her- Danielle's adorable golden retriever scampers to her side and nuzzles against the calf of her leg. She leans down and scratches under his chin. “Hey darling,” she pats her head. “Sorry for being late. You must’ve been scared all by yourself, yeah?” Inu follows her into the bathroom, answering her with a woof as Danielle turns the shower on.
The water is warm and steady, the most perfect of summer rains, and with her eyes closed, she is naked beneath the wide sky. Wrapped in its cocoon of comfort, she scrubs away the sweat and grime of the day, and makes quick work with her Coco Mademoiselle body wash.
Finally, she rinses the conditioner off her hair with cold water.
Patting herself dry with a towel, she wanders to her walk-in closet. Putting on a band tee and a pair of lounging shorts, she drags herself to the living room. After making sure Inu’s food and water bowl are full, she plops herself down on the sofa beside Inu, and feels around for the remote beneath the cushions.
Her fingers grasp around something that beyond any scope of doubt isn’t the remote- it’s her phone. And it's ringing .
A grainy photo of Gun inside a dimly-lit karaoke booth - he is leaning languidly against the crimson padded walls, a lit cigarette held between his tattooed knuckles and holding a bottle of Macallan - that she had taken from Goo’s instagram, greets her before the call goes to voicemail.
The screen goes pitch-dark and Danielle can see her own harrowed reflection.
Unlocking the phone with trembling hands, she goes to the messaging app. What is she? The protagonist of some icky slasher, à la Sidney Prescott?
Scratch that, she’s probably the flick's Casey.
👹👺
…is typing
The text bubble appears and disappears.
👹👺
I can hear you from outside. Open the door, honey.
No way.
No f*cking way.
No f*cking way that psycho tracked her down to where she lives.
Yeah, definitely the Casey of the flick.
She stands up so fast, the deficit of iron in her system almost knocks her right back down. Her vision darkens for a second before, with quivering legs, she hesitantly scutters over to the door. Treading lightly, she peers out of the peephole and lets out a sharp squeak when she sees Gun staring back.
"Open the door or I'll kick it down." Danielle would rather not end up on the internet as the woman whose lunatic ex-superior slash situationship broke down her door, so she pulls it open.
The déjà vu from before clogs her airways and rattles its fists against her ribs.
Sometimes, life is nothing short of a horror movie.
You make all the wrong choices. You ignore the ringing of the warning bells. And then you end up all alone in the grand finale, bathed in blood, wondering where it all went wrong.
Like every wrong choice and poor life decision amalgamated into one gigantic misreckoning, and then said misreckoning made flesh, Gun Park leans against her doorway as he looks her up and down.
After more than nine months, his proximity is shocking; shocking too is the familiarity and unfamiliarity of their situation.
Her bedsit on the third floor of a tenement in Seongbuk has been replaced by a luxury apartment in the heart of Seoul; the rotten wood of its dingy landing has changed into a wide, polished, marble-tiled corridor. There is no longer a snappy landlady, or a neighbour that sniffed at her choice of profession. Yet, here she was- four years after that fateful first meeting - and yet, here was Gun.
As ever, he continues to tower over Danielle. His hair hasn’t been slicked back as usual - it flops over one side of his brows, and his eyes sparkle underneath the fronds. The pink remnants of his healed scar stretch jaggedly between his phoenix eyes. The suit is new - charcoal-grey, with the thinnest purple stripe; as usual, elegant, stylish, and slightly too tight for him. She even recognizes the tie- it was the one she'd given him on Christmas, two years ago. So he still had that, still liked to wear it…
Danielle blinks, and stops thinking about his clothes.
Gun is standing at her door, while having the most smug face known to humankind. And- God be damned - he is still aggravatingly hot. Danielle notes, not for the first time in her life, how humiliatingly underdressed she is in comparison to him.
Gun flashes her a 100-gigawatt smile, and she has to squint her eyes in order to not further fuel her nightmares. “Are you not going to invite me in, darling? It’s freezing out here.” Danielle shakes her head, but lets him in without a word of protest.
Again, what did she say about being Casey Becker?
“You know, this is an indoor complex.” Gun walks past her and to the sofa, where he perches on its arm with his hands still inside his trouser pockets. She rolls her eyes. “ Crazy bastard. ” The older man gives a typical condescending look around the layout of her home and Danielle is made shamefully aware of the pink towel draped over a chair-back, poorly obscuring the snakey pit of tangled grey undergarments she had tossed there yesterday, and Inu’s toys that lie scattered across the living room floor. She paddles over to where Gun sits, and clears her throat, a futile attempt to soothe her pounding heart. "Why are you here?"
“You weren't answering my texts -” Gun's eyes rake over her exposed collarbone and bare thighs, before he tilts his chin up to glance at Danielle. “ I was worried about you."
I wasn't answering your texts for nine f*cking months, you crazy son of a bitch, she wants to shout. Gun shrugs. "You're my little flower. What if you had gotten yourself hurt, moving places or showering without me?" His words send a chill down her spine not only because of the cringe that corrodes her insides upon hearing them, but also because of the air of malice slowly shrouding the older man.
Inu growls at their unknown visitor and Gun turns to look at her dog.
"A puppy for the kitten. How nice." Danielle sucks her teeth and lifts a hand to bring it down on his stupidly hot mug, but the older man catches her by her raised elbow and pulls her between his spread knees. He grabs her hips to pull her closer, and Danielle smacks his shoulder. " Asshole ," she seethes.
"I should have bashed your head in with the flower vase, the moment you stepped inside my house."
His pupils dilate and she shifts unsteadily. "Why are you here? Do you want to die?" Cold, strong hands sneak under Danielle's shirt and rub along the sides of her ribs; deft fingers stroke her flat stomach and trace the small of her back with feather light caresses that make the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Gun pulls her closer until their chests are flush against each other’s.
"If I am to die," — he cups her breast, and rolls its hardened nub between the rough pads of his fingers — "let me die while I’m inside you– my final wish ." Danielle unwillingly lets out a low whimper. He brushes his ice-cold lips against her throat in a way that leaves her wet between her thighs. God, she is so weak for Gun. It's actually a bit pathetic, to be honest. She can feel his hands drop behind her knees, and he kneads his way under the seam of her shorts.
Gun nibbles at her neck like the inconsiderate bastard he is, canine teeth nipping at her skin, and she presses into the familiar feeling. "You don't get a final wish, you," she whines as he thumbs the part where her hips meet her thighs.
"Seriously babe? No underwear? You're such a slu*t ." Danielle gasps, long nails digging into Gun's biceps while he noses below her jaw.
She tries to shove him away, but the older man's grip is serpentine. " You left me first, Gun. I'm not letting you f*ck me." Gun latches his teeth to her earlobe and tugs it , eliciting a needy moan past Danielle's chewed lips.
He pulls her closer, as if he wants to merge their bodies into one grotesque life form. “I didn't even say anything about us f*cking . You're the one thinking about getting f*cked ." The older man grins down. "Also , I came back– you didn't. " He skims his lips over to Danielle's. "Always so disobedient. Why do you always do what you want, brat?” She whines against the older man's lips at the usage of the pet name, her own chasing after his fleeting touches. She knows she should defend her dignity – dismember this asshole, and dispose the body parts. But Gun's hands squeeze her ass underneath her shorts and she can feel how hard he is against her quaking thighs.
He bites down on her bottom lip, pointed teeth breaking skin so he can lap up the rubies of blood with tantalising flicks of his tongue. "How about being my good little girl for a change?"
Ah, damn this bastard.
Winding her arms around his neck so he can't pull away from her, she crashes their mouths together- her plump lips pressing feverishly against his colder, thinner ones- and the older man growls, yanking at her hair so that he can tilt her mouth up and lick inside it.
Danielle gasps in surprise, and he slips his tongue past her lips. Tasting the wet copper of her own blood makes her moan high in his throat, and she lifts a leg over the older man’s knee in order to grind down on his slacks- chasing after the delicious friction, insides clenching in anticipation of what is to come. She's half-sitting on his lap now, her ankles off the floor- the strength to stand upright has long left her.
Contrary to widespread belief, Gun's eyesight isn't sh*tty at all- it’s Danielle's, both literally and metaphorically. sh*tty too is her judgement concerning the general preservation of her sanity.
She is such a pushover, such an idiot for thinking that things between them could go the way she wanted. What Gun wanted, Gun got. It was a cardinal truth of the universe.
She yelps when he dips two fingers between her wet folds, and begins to prod at her opening. Her tormentor pulls away- mouth shiny with spit and her slick sticking his silver rings to each other- and she wails for more. He brings a heavy hand down on her ass, the hit echoing in the sweltering air that envelops them, and Danielle keens forward.
"Wait for me in the bedroom." Gun's voice is sandpaper as he whispers in her ear. She rolls her hips, the coarse texture of his trousers feeling delightfully harsh against her throbbing cl*t. He plunges his fingers, soaking with her own arousal, inside her mouth and she sucks on them greedily, gagging only when he bumps them against the back of her tongue. "Bedroom, now." He presses his thumb to her dripping hole. "Or do you want your dog watching as you get f*cked on the couch? Pervert. "
His insidious mockery only serves to set her blood alight. The pale fabric of her sleep shorts is already soaking with the extent of her arousal, leaving her slick with fluid. She pushes herself off Gun and all but stumbles to the direction of her bedroom, like a felled fawn. Pulling her shirt over her head and divesting herself of her shorts, she crawls onto the mattress, and takes a moment to look behind her. Gun is still standing beside the couch, but she can see how his eyes follow her retreating form - his stare piercing and all but trembling with hunger and lust. For me, she thinks, smug with petty vindication, not hiding her smirk when she rolls onto her back. He starts removing his clothes – his coat and white shirt joining the bedroom trail, before reaching down to work on his belt.
Her bedroom has also changed : now furnished with a large cottage bed stacked with a dozen or so pillows in different styles and colours. An unopened box of Belgian chocolates sits on the bedside table, beside a bottle of Chateau Margeaux and a strip of Xanax. There are comic books scattered across the coffee table, a collection of plans and trinkets and framed photographs on wall-mounted bookshelves, her flat-screen TV, a chair hammock, and a haphazard array of posters and other decorations. In short, it looks lived-in.
Belt undone and discarded - Gun crawls up to her, hips settling between plush thighs that squeeze him firmly, and starts pressing wet kisses down the valley of her breasts and the plane of her stomach. He runs his tongue along one of her nipples, teeth grazing the hardened nub, and she throws her head back with a sobbed hng! Gun's hands stroke the flat of her belly. He inches himself down to bring his face to her navel, and the older man begins to suck at the skin before gnawing at it viciously. Danielle cants up but he keeps her hips pinned to the bed- peppering kisses on the taut expanse of skin below her belly button.
She cards her fingers through his hair, edged fingernails scratching his scalp. "You know," she manages to sniff, "You do look pretty good kneeling."
He nuzzles against her stomach, and inhales. He looks like a starving beast taking its first meal in days and Danielle, despite her tear-streaked face and quivering lips, can barely contain her elation.
Gun growls. "Good enough to make you wet, apparently." She whines loudly, her knees falling separately to the side to present her eager c*nt to the older man. He leans down with equal eagerness and presses a rough kiss to her leaking folds.
Danielle's head tips back against the pile of pillows they pay atop, and she wails.
Hands holding her thighs apart, he drags his tongue along her slit, tip prodding inside her spasming hole. Slick arousal coats Gun's mouth and jaw, as Danielle continues to make small noises of pleasure.
He pulls away to peel the petals of her c*nt apart, and smiles smugly at the sight of her hole clenching around nothing, slick dripping out with every wink. Gun drags his tongue from the bottom to the top, licking a thick strip and wrapping his lips around her engorged cl*t. It only takes a few harsh sucks before her moaning turns to weeping and Danielle's thighs shake around Gun's head as she squirts clear fluid all over the older man's face.
Danielle's thighs go limp but Gun doesn't cease his movements, tongue flicking against her cl*t while two fingers plunge into her dripping hole. She clenches around the ridges and bumps of his rings, mewling weakly at the dual sensations. With a final kiss to her sore cl*t, Gun leans back on his knees and sets a relentless pace of his hand. Danielle can only moan wantonly- hips jerking to pull away or meet the heel of his palm as it smacks and grinds against her cl*t. She scrambles for purchase, twisting the comforter underneath her hands as her legs flail around the older man.
The squelching sounds that fill the air are utterly sinful in her ears. She wonders how debauched she must look beneath him- propped up on her elbows, eyes glittering and face wet with tears as she watches Gun f*ck her on his fingers with a stupefied look.
Lightning shoots through her entire body and out of the tip of her toes- Danielle's eyes squeeze shut and mouth hangs open in a silent groan as her walls clench and spasm around Gun's fingers.
The older man licks away the tears drying on her cheeks. Pulling out his drenched fingers, Gun brings the digits past his lips and sucks, greedily licking up every drop of her release. Danielle preens as she watches him act so shamelessly, her pale face and body now splotched with a blazing red.
Her gaze drops from Gun's mouth to his groin, where the older man's co*ck tents his trousers, pulsing and terribly neglected.
"So greedy, babe ." He mutters, large hands encircling her wrists as she fumbles with the button of his trousers. Both growing impatient, Gun does the rest of the work for her- making quick work stripping and pulling his co*ck free. It's long, thick, and as intimidating as Danielle remembers it. It slaps against his toned stomach.
Eager, Danielle takes it in her hand, and Gun groans. His co*ck looks offending large in her hand, the shaft hard and throbbing as she jerks it up and down. Her mouth falls open in a pant, and she stares up at the older man, inviting. Gun does not hesitate to accept, shuffling up Danielle's body until his knees straddle her chest and he is close enough that Danielle can lean up onto her elbows and take the head of his co*ck in her mouth.
Gun's head tips back and he lets out a loud, pleased moan. It has been a long while since she's done this; she's not been with anyone since Gun- didn't want to, couldn't bring herself to… for reasons she cannot bear to decipher ( not yet, not now, not again ) - and it shows. Her movements are sloppy and her jaw aches from how much it must stretch. But the low grunts she pulls from Gun spurs her on - gripping his hips with newfound determination, she bobs her head with reckless abandon. Gun holds her jaw and instructs her to loosen his throat and when she does, Danielle near instantly c*ms when her face is pushed into a neatly groomed groin and her throat contracts around the thick co*ck being forced down it.
Threading a hand through her soot black curls, Gun speeds up, roughly f*cking her throat. He looks down at her, pulling her bangs back and away so that she can stare up at him with her big, watery eyes while spit and seed dribbles from the corners of her mouth. They keep their eyes locked as Gun finishes in Danielle's mouth- his co*ck pumping hot seed down her throat and filling her belly with warmth.
They keep staring at each other until he pulls out of her mouth, and Danielle coughs and makes a wounded noise that quickly crescends into a high-pitched moan when she sees Gun situating himself between her thighs. He begins sliding his slick co*ck between her swollen lips.
One hand around her waist and another gripping the root of his shaft, Gun guides the blunt head of his co*ck towards her awaiting hole.
In a moment of pre-f*cking like rabbits clarity, Danielle clasps Gun's wrists, and the older man looks up with a raised eyebrow and a piqued curve of his lips- still glistening with her spend. She probably shouldn't find it as hot as she does.
"This really is this last time Gun," she pants weakly, her voice already betraying her conviction. "After this we go back to being mildly acquainted, as we were before." She tightens her grip. "I'm serious ."
Gun breathes heavily through his nose, and gives her a crooked smile that makes her blood boil hotly. He reaches her face, brushing the hair back from her forehead. "Whatever you want, babe."
