C5 - Villaintine

When I played dumb on the elementary school playground, I didn’t fully understand what I was turning down. Mrs. Keller made it sound wonderful, a school with all the math problems I could ever dream about, a place with teachers who paid attention to me.

I felt the dark undercurrent, the same way I did on that river. Every muscle in my body clenched tight, my breath coming fast. As I got older there were other wolves.

Other offers.

I learned to put a name on what I wanted.

Freedom.

The freedom to decide where I go and when. The freedom to say who can touch me. The freedom to say no.

Some days I wondered if it was pointless to fight the currents. This is what the dark streets did to a loner. This is how they pushed us along, eddies swirling around us, sharp rocks at the bottom.

And like that day in the tube I fought the pull. I pumped my legs as hard as I could, even if I knew I’d go under. I put on my uniform and go to the diner, because that’s the way I swim here. My only source of money.

And the whole time my mind whirs, working on other options, some loophole. Worrying at the problem until the edges are raw. My brain has done things, improbable things, almost impossible things.

And now it fails me?

When the bell over the door rings at midnight I barely register the sound. The air changes in the diner. Even the drunks and the exhausted truck drivers from out of town straighten in their seats.

Jo Maeri ducks back into the kitchen.

I know who it is before I turn around.

Kim Yongdae.

He’s sitting in the corner booth, soft as velvet, his edges undefined. I know he’s a pure blood alpha, dominant and the one city is scared of, in flesh and blood, bone and ill-intent, but he seems somehow unreal.

As if he’s made of smoke.

I grab the pot of coffee and cross the diner. He won’t see me cower. He won’t see me beg.

I give him my bland waiter smile as I pour. “What can I get you?”

He glances at the counter, where I can feel four men resolutely not looking at him. He exudes a menace that’s unmistakable, enough to make men his size stiffen in fear.

“What kind of pie?” he asks, his voice mild.

“Peach.”

Jo Maeri’s one concession to decent food. She makes them herself.

“I’ll have that.”

Of course, he will. I give him a tight smile before returning to the counter. Only there do I exhale. Being around him is like being underwater. He steals all the air, all the space. Until I’m drowning.

There are other customers that want refills and plates cleared. That’s my excuse for not returning right away.

But really, it’s because I need to be away from him the same way I need oxygen. When I cut a slice of pie, quick, sloppy, I take a deep breath. All I want to do is slide the plate onto his table and leave.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

Trapped.

“J-Jungkook.”

“How long have you been working here, pretty Jungkook?”

The way he says my name, it sounds perverse. Like something dirty. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to talk to him at all but ignoring him feels like turning my back on a rabid animal—he would go in for the kill.

“Two years.”

That’s not exactly true.

I worked here longer in the back, scrubbing dishes so no one would know they had a kid working here. When I turned fifteen, I got upgraded to waiter. Most people know I’m underage.

No one cares.

He nods towards his coffee, still black in the mug.

“I prefer two creams. Three sugars.”

This isn’t Starbucks. He has a mug and a little plastic tray with non-dairy creamer and sugar, like everyone else. Except we both know he isn’t like everyone else. My muscles are pulled taut, like the strings holding up a tent.

About to snap.

I reach for the tray, pulling out the creams, the sugars. He looks at me like it’s something obscene, pulling open the creams, tearing the corners of the sugars. It feels obscene, watching the white enter the black.

He’s unnaturally still, yet completely relaxed. Not quite humane. Definitely, not sane.

I find myself filling the silence of his body, my movement jerky and too fast in the face of this statue. I grab a spoon and stir, disturbed by the way I’m obeying silent commands. I don’t mean to do that. There’s something about him that compels my omega.

An innate power. Dominance. Or maybe plain old survival.

“Is that—” My throat gets tight. It’s hard to stand in front of him, feeling naked. Exposed. “Is that everything?”

His eyes are a clear grey, giving the impression I can see deep inside them.

“What time do you get off? Jungkook.”

People ask me that question all the time.

Every night.

Every hour.

It’s just a habit, I think, for someone to proposition someone of a certain age that they come near. Others think that a few bucks in tip means I’ll meet them behind the dumpster.

Most of the time I tell them I have a boyfriend. It’s the truth and it shuts them up, usually. Maybe it’s shitty that I need to resort to that excuse, that a simple no, thank you doesn’t suffice.

Living in the slums you learn how to work within the system, because God knows you can’t change it. Only, I don’t want to tell this man about Eunwoo. That feels like a challenge he would be too glad to accept.

“That’s not really—”

“Appropriate? I’m rarely appropriate.” He smirks.

I was going to say that it wasn’t any of his business. Except that’s also a challenge he would be glad to accept. There’s nothing I can say, no way that I can fight him that won’t make him hit harder.

“I’ll come back and check on you in a little bit.”

“I’d rather you sit down with me.”

I take a step back, moving on pure instinct. A flinch away from fire. “Please stop.”

Strangely enough, he listens. He lets me run into the kitchen, where I huddle in a corner until Jo Maeri bodily shoves me back onto the floor. The corner booth is empty.

Beside the mug of coffee and the slice of pie, there’s a hundred-dollar bill. Because this isn’t about money. That’s what he’s saying with that tip. That he has more money than God.

That he doesn’t need whatever pennies I can put together. It was never really about money, was it?

It’s always been about ownership. He’s the king of this godforsaken land. He can have anything he wants.

Including me.

!~~~~!

After leaving the diner I visit Jessica to give her my tips for the night. It was supposed to be her shift anyway, I figure, and she and her baby need the cash more.

It’s not like this money is going to make a dent in the debt. She’s sympathetic about the news, but not very surprised.

“You know what you should do,” she says. “You should move in with Kim Taehyung. Like really wrap him around your little pinky.”

“Absolutely not.”

I haven’t worked so hard, fought so long, hidden myself away only to belong to someone else. When I was nine years old I could have proved to Kim Yongdae what I could do, if I wanted to be owned by a dangerous man.

Now I’m fifteen. Only three more years until I can leave this shitty Deagu.

“Would it really be so bad? He’s hot, at least.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to wrap someone around my little finger.”

She shrugs. “I could give you some tips.”

I force myself to stay calm, to relax my hands so I don’t squish the baby I’m holding. Luckily little Keithra is more interested in a dragon that lights up than our conversation.

“I don’t know. Maybe the game is the safest bet. If I help Dad win.”

Jessica applies rouge to her perfectly contoured cheek. Her hair is flat- ironed flawlessly, her eyes sparkling. It’s something she does when I come over, because I can hold Keith. I love her little pup. She is calm when with me. Jessica would sometime tell me that I would be an amazing parent.

And she feels free. And she needs to feel pretty, she says, even if she’s only going to stay inside.

It’s the only way she can get fifteen minutes to shower.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“And if you don’t win?”

My stomach drops. “Then I’m screwed. Literally.”

She turns to face me, leaning back against the counter. The look on her face, the grief, like I’m already gone, it rips me to shreds. And I’m looking at her, already in pieces. She’s always been like this, as long as I’ve known her.

The same.

“You have to take what you can get, for as long as you can get it,” she says, her voice soft and earnest. “Right now, you’re young. You’re pretty. That’s enough to keep Kim Taehyung for a few weeks.”

A knot forms in my throat. “That’s the coldest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“He treats his chases good.”

Treats, like we were his pets. Like I’m his pet. I refused to do tricks for the father. I’m not going to start for his son.

“I don’t care. He still wants to own me.”

She meets my gaze in the mirror. “Better than my pimp treated us, that’s for sure.”

My stomach drops. “Oh, Jessica. I’m so sorry.”

She gets up from the stool and takes Keith, her smile sad.

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong. But I’m worried. Worried that you’ll fight Taehyung even if he’s the lesser of two evils.”

The lesser of two evils. That describes him well. “Maybe you’re right,” I whisper.

“It’s not all bad. There are always bright sides.”

There’s love in her blue eyes as she kisses her daughter’s chubby cheek. Her skin is darker than hers, her hair darker. She has her eyes, though, made a navy color by whatever genes her father contributed. A man I’ve never met. She doesn’t mention him often.

“Is that what his father was?” I ask, my voice low. Low even though Keith can’t understand us talking about her father. “The lesser of two evils?”

There’s no judgment here. Only a dark and twisted knot for the only person who was there for me. As a sister.

“He worked for the man my father owed money to. I was a gift. I could have said no, I guess. Could have said I wouldn’t sleep in his bed, but that only would have made things harder for me.”

“God, Jessica.”

Her expression is deadly serious. “Don’t fight them. It only makes it worse.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know if I can just…accept this.”

“Sometimes the best way to get past something is to go through it.”

This was the worst advice I could imagine, made more terrible by the fact that it was right.  “What if I move in with Eunwoo?” I ask, grasping at straws.

“And he can protect you from these men?” she asks, the answer plain in her voice.

No, he can’t. And being with him would only sign his death sentence.

“There has to be another way. Anything. The cops.”

She laughs, then. “You know who dragged me back to Sehun when I tried to run away? That’s right. A fcuking cop.” Anger burns, old coals stoked hotter. “So much for serve and protect.”

She picks up a figure with silver Armor and a sword. A knight.

“They serve and protect the ace.”

The man who owns everyone. Kim Yongdae.

“Then who is Taehyung in this analogy?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want him for an enemy.”

He’s the Prince charming, of course. Not quite as powerful as his father, but close. Close enough to be a danger to me. They’re really two sides of the same coin. Either way I’m a peasant boy in a kingdom of gilt and glamour.

Whatever Dad did, whoever he tried to betray, the Kim family would destroy us.

“What if I don’t survive?” I whisper.

“Oh boy, that’s not the problem. The question you need to worry about is, ‘what if you do’?” The dread in her voice sends a plain shiver through my body.

!~~~~!

“Move in with me,” Eunwoo offers.

I blink at him from his kitchen table, the same table where I first met his parents. “Your dad lives here.”

The older Mr. Cha is a quiet man, brooding, made even more so by the death of his wife. He works at the garage each day and late into the evening before going home to watch the nightly news. We pass nods of formality in the hallway. That’s the extent of our conversation.

“He won’t mind.”

“He won’t mind an underage moving in with his underage son?”

Eunwoo shrugs. “He knows what your dad’s like. He’ll understand.”

Maybe he would, but I wasn’t sure I could do that anymore than I could give myself to Kim Taehyung. Either way I would be forfeiting my life, surrendering to someone, and God, if I were used for anything at least I’d rather it was my mind.

“I don’t think so. Besides, I can’t leave Dad to deal with this alone. They’ll kill him.”

Eunwoo looks unimpressed. “He’s brought it on himself.”

I can’t help but gasp. “He’s family.”

“Fine.” It’s rare that he’s ever snapped at me. He’s usually easy-going, which is why we get along so well. Why we’ve lasted so long.

“Please,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “I don’t want you to be angry with me. I just need to figure out how to handle this. There must be something we can do. Like maybe a payment plan.”

“And while time goes by, your dad’s not going to gamble?”

Okay, maybe he has good reason to be mad. I’m deflated like an old balloon, its plastic stretched and small. I put my head in my hands, covering my face. “You’re right. There isn’t an answer.”

He grimaces. “Look, I’m sorry. This is a tough situation. I know that. But the core issue isn’t time, not really. It’s money. You don’t have anything worth that much money. And you won’t, not ever.”

I peek through my fingers. “Is this you trying to make me feel better?”

“Yes,” he says, sounding rueful. “And not doing a good job of it. It’s just—he’s a heavy weight. You know? I don’t want you to hold on so long he pulls you to the bottom.”

The words land inside me, hard with impact. He’s right, of course. Dad’s addiction will sink him. And it will sink me too, if I let it. Am I just supposed to walk away, though?

I’m ashamed to admit that the thought scares me even more than it should—not only because of what would happen to Dad. Because of what that would mean for me. I’d be well and truly alone in the world.

And if I’m going to be underwater, I’d rather hold onto an anchor than nothing at all.

“What if—” My voice cracks, though less from fear. More from a strange, dark excitement. “I know this is bad. Maybe I shouldn’t even talk about it. But you’re my best friend. And I have to at least consider this option—what if I paid off the debt a different way?”

It speaks to how common such ways for omegas are in the west side that Eunwoo doesn’t ask what I mean.

Sex.

“That’s really fcuking stupid, Jungkook.”

I flinch.

Of course, it is.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it to you.”

“You shouldn’t even be considering it. There are worse things than your dad being held accountable for his debts. This could break you.”

“Do I seem that fragile?”

“You’re strong, Jungkook. But these men, they’re fcuking mountains. They will crush you. And they’ll enjoy doing it.”

He sounds so sure, as if he understands the impulse to crush me. As if he would enjoy it, too. Maybe it’s inherent in them. And only the rich can indulge it.

“Look, I’m not…I’m not saying I want to do it. I’m saying, isn’t that option better than Dad dying? In a totally objective way, I mean. After that we’d both be alive.”

“You and your damn logic,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t sound angry anymore.

Only sad.

“What else is there?” I ask, honestly unsure.

“There’s pride,” he says.

“Yours or mine?”

He laughs a little. “I honestly don’t know.”

!~~~~!

And so, after a week of circling the problem, a week of failed attempts to solve it, I find myself in a cab heading deep into Deagu. The windows are down, letting muggy air brush into the black interior.

Gouges mar the plastic handles, as if someone tried to get out. And failed.

I have this sense that everything has led me to this moment. Everything has led me to Kim Taehyung.

The Inferna is an Alpha’s club, which doesn’t mean there are flashing marquee lights and free buffets inside. It’s an exclusive membership, where you have to know someone powerful and pay a lot of money. In other words, my father’s never been inside.

I stand in front of the carved wooden door, wondering what I’ll find inside.

Half-naked women?

Completely naked men?

For all I know they won’t even let me in the door, but I’m counting on my body to carry some weight. The same way it can be used as the entry fee to a high-stakes poker game. The sun ducks behind the buildings, sending hot rays across my vision. It leaves the steps in shadow. I wonder if that’s on purpose.

A smile tugs at my lips. As if rich men can bend the elements to their will.

Then again, they brought me here, didn’t they?

As surely as rapids in the river.

The knock sounds quiet on such a heavy door. This is the historic part of downtown. There are no doorknobs. No fancy fingerprint scanner or security camera, at least not that I can see.

With a creak the door opens. The dark silhouette is tall and familiar.

!~~~~~!!!!!~~~~~!