Minhyun has an icepack pressed over one eye. He lounges on a bed with satin, blue sheets, struggling to light a cigarette (and failing, because the icepack keeps dripping inconveniently), and looking very, very calm. Beneath the icepack is a swollen, black eye, given to him by a rich and frightening man, but no one seems to realize that Minhyun is the most frightening man in the room. He’s the most frightening man in every room.

Aron is his personal bodyguard, but that is a sham and he is exposed now. His wire lies on the floor, effectively stomped into oblivion by the battered blond in front of him.

Minhyun finally lights his cigarette, making a very happy sound. Aron stands there, hands in his pockets, trying to stop the nervous quiver of his fingers. Minhyun smiles up at him, looking like pale gold in a lavish room of blue, silver, and purple. His life is paid for; it always is. A black eye does not change that.

“Checkmate,” Minhyun hums.

Aron narrows his eyes.

“I caught you, handsome,” Minhyun chuckles, flapping his cigarette like an extra finger. “What would Mr. Longfei say?”

“Shut up.”

“Now, now,” Minhyun says, grinning, “I don’t think he would say that.”

Aron is silent.

“What should I do with you?” Minhyun asks, wearing false confusion. “A traitor—a very handsome one, indeed, but a traitor. I know what he would say. He would say, ‘Why—take him around back and shoot him’!”

Aron’s gun feels heavy and hungry in its holster. The act is over. Minhyun knows the truth. His own life could end, but Aron is not so keen to surrender himself. He was sent here on a job, and he has sufficient evidence. It just so happens that he found the crucial evidence the very same night that Minhyun discovered the script. He makes a move to grab his gun, but he hears a click.

Minhyun points a gun at him, the icepack discarded. The safety is off. Minhyun is smiling, unperturbed, while one eye is swollen entirely shut.

“Don’t be reckless, darling,” Minhyun hums.

Aron’s hand hovers above his gun. If he acts fast, he can shoot the bastard and run. He doesn’t want to shoot this particular bastard, though.

“I want to make a deal,” Minhyun says, pronouncing the last word like it’s his favorite dessert. “You have an agenda. I do, too, and I think you are the very man I’ve been looking for all along.”

“What do you want?” Aron asks stiffly, and Minhyun grins.