don't say anything, 
let's run far away

After the initial shock wore off—which did not take more than a few seconds—I started running with him. It may also have something to do with the fact that his tight grip on my hand forced me to follow.

As for the touchy matter of faith, I didn't question where the escort was taking me. There were only two possibilities: he was either helping me get away from the men, since he undoubtedly knew the underground pathways well, or he was leading me towards death. If he was helping me get away, great. If he was taking me to the Lees, also great. It was better than being trapped underground with no idea which way to go.

He was fast, and in undeniably good shape, which meant that I was panting by the time we got upstairs. I knew we were out of the tunnels because of the multiple flights of stairs we had to take to get away. Somewhere along the way, we had lost the mercenaries who had been following me—which meant that we had traced a pretty convoluted path in an attempt to get away.

"Where are we?" I asked in a whisper, because I didn't want anyone to overhear and get a location on me, and also because I was so out of breath that I could barely get a proper syllable out. The escort seemed a worn out too; his chest was rising and falling rapidly under the white suit jacket. The skin around his eyes was smoky gray, which I guessed to be the result of makeup rather than natural causes.

He shook his head, pointing in the direction of a long hallway before releasing my hand and making his way down it with soundless steps. I followed him as quietly as I could, lifting up the dress to my calves. I kept the remaining heel with me, in case someone chanced upon it and got an idea of where I could be.

The walls were polished wood—of what kind, I couldn't tell—and the yellowish lights made them gleam. The floor was covered by a thick red carpet, which helped hide the sound of our footsteps, and there were no visible doors. At the end of each corridor was a table, decorated with an ornate vase filled with fresh flowers, and the whole place smelled like lemon soap.

It had to be a hotel of sorts, a floor above the ground floor, where I assumed the auction was going to be held. Speaking of auction—when I glanced at my watch, the time was already eleven twenty-five. I felt a cold flush of panic in my gut.

"I don't know where you're taking me," I hissed quietly, after I had made sure that there was no one around, "but it would be a great help if you could at least tell me."

The escort didn't glance back, sticking to the walls and walking—more briskly now—along the corridor. I ground my teeth together, internally praying for patience, and we exited the last hallway and out onto a platform in front of twin staircases.

I gasped in surprise, pulling back reflexively before I realized there was no one around. I glanced at the escort questioningly, who had already crossed over to reach the other side. Sighing, I followed, and went up to him.

He was with his back to the wall, head lowered, one side of his face pressed to the wall. I stared at him, partly surprised and partly confused, before I realized that he was listening in. He looked up, and gestured for me to come closer, and I obeyed with resignation.

Once I pressed my ear to the wall, I understood his intentions. The walls were thin here—they had changed from wood to plaster without my noticing it, and they were appreciably less thick. This had to be a nook of some kind, maybe the wall backing a fireplace, but I could hear every single word of the conversation that was happening within the room.

"—Yeji."

The voice was rough and masculine, deep, but the syllables were warbled enough to tell me that the man speaking was probably old, maybe over forty or fifty. At least. At first, I was confused, and mistook the name for some other word that I had not caught properly. One of the escorts, I thought immediately after hearing the name and the disgustingly lecherous way the man had said it, and the words after only confirmed my assumption.

"Ah, yes, of course." The second man chuckled. His voice was much softer, almost silky, betraying that he was much younger than his partner. "She's usually never put up for bidding—she's one of his favorites, you see, but he's made an exception this time around."

His tone was suggestive towards the end, and both men laughed. The escort looked at me, and I became conscious of the fact that I had had my lips pulled into a snarl. I didn't correct my expression.

One of his favorites. This was obviously the heir they were talking about. My repugnance rose, and I realized that I had been clenching my fists hard enough to leave impressions of my nails into the soft skin of my palms.

"Well, you can enter your bid into the computer," the younger man said, and I heard the sound of a chair being pulled back. "We usually have open auctions, and such is the case with most of the items, but some of them are too valuable and experienced for that sort of thing. The bidders—like yourself, of course, Mr. Han—know certain girls very well. The price floor isn't hard to guess. All you have to do is keep on going up."

I pressed further against the wall to listen better, but the escort reached for me again, this time locking his fingers around my wrist as he pulled me up and rushed towards the staircase. I was yanked up, very much against my will, and my annoyance spiked, but I didn't try to resist as he pulled me down the staircase.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" I asked in a low whisper, but there was so much force in my voice that it sounded almost like a yell. "I appreciate it if you're trying to help, but it would be much easier if you just—" A thought hit me before I could complete the statement. "...speak."

We had reached the bottom of the staircase. The escort turned to look at me. His movements so far had been urgent and purposeful, but the look he gave me now was filled with a calm understanding. He cocked his head to the side, a delicate but decisive movement, as if to say, now you get it?

My lips parted, but no words came out. He turned, once again walking away from the staircase and towards another turn. After a moment of indecision, I followed him. I was suddenly filled with a burning shame at the assumptions I had made and the way I had spoken. How I had never heard his voice before. He's mute.

He led me up to a door. It was a regular-sized door, but in comparison to its surroundings, it seemed small. I could hear the sound of an announcer from behind it, and guessed that we were next to the theater where the auction was being held. Judging from the direction and proximity of the voice, we were standing behind one of the doors that I had tried backstage and found to be locked.

The escort made no move to open it, instead, looked at me expectantly. I focused on the door, finding myself incapable of looking him in the eyes.

I could hear the auctioneer calling out numbers, and there and then, the true weight of the power of the clan dawned on me. It wasn't just a crime family, it was an empire, living and breathing and pulsating. Normal clans were dangerous enough, but when they were constituted by a blood-related family, where most of the heads of operations themselves were Lees? After hearing about the clan conducting an auction, I started to comprehend the kind of power they held. Fraud, money laundering, human trafficking, extortion, kidnapping?

Planned killings?

The thoughts were beginning to become too much for me, so I turned my attention back to the escort as I began feeling a tenseness in the muscles of my chest. He had been surprised to see me down in the tunnels, of course, but he had not hesitated one moment before bringing me to various locations. And the path he had taken—all those turns couldn't be random, and us landing up here hadn't been fate. It had been a planned navigation.

"You..." I trailed off, unconsciously licking my lips. The lipstick felt dry on my chapped lips. "You had been expecting me?"

He hesitated for a moment, glancing away and back, and then, slowly, he nodded. One of his hands rested on the handle of the door, the other around my wrist, and his grip had loosened enough for me to notice that my skin was slick with sweat.

"What do you want to show me?" I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Maybe, if you could... I'd have another shot at—"

Before I could finish speaking, there were gunshots. I froze, eyes widening, as the noise dissolved into screaming and general chaos. The shots had obviously been fired inside the theater, and they weren't a freak accident, either—they kept continuing, a volley of shots sounding loud and clear despite padding.

"This wasn't part of the plan," I said, feeling fear seize me. Vernon was in there. The escort looked at me with rounded eyes, and I grabbed the handles of the door. "I have to—"

The door was thrown open, and I was thrown against the wall next to it. Throngs of people ran out from inside the theater, screaming and running. So much for your guns now.

The escort was on the other side, holding on to the doors' handle. His eyes met mine across the crowd—I reached towards him, but the crowd was too thick, reminding me of the fateful night in the club on Chaeyoung's birthday. It seemed years ago. And then, slowly, maddeningly, he shook his head and let go.

I screamed, but it was lost in the middle of many others. The people had no particular direction—there must have been at least a hundred in that theater, and he was lost in the crowd before I could even think about going after them. People were running haphazardly, down the halls, and a tiny voice at the back of my mind wondered why no one was taking the stairs.

Because they want to get away, I thought, knowing that I couldn't follow them. As if moved by an invisible force, I started in the direction of the staircases, and broke into a run. My hand was clenched around the heel, tight enough to shut off the circulation, and I kept running even after I had reached the platform on top. Though I didn't know the floor plan of the building, I had a rough idea from navigating the first two floors, and found staircase after staircase as I went up and up until I reached the highest level.

Who started shooting? Where is everyone going? Is Vernon alright? Worry and fear gnawed at my mind, but I pushed my instincts aside, focusing on the instructions I had been given. Be at the top floor by eleven thirty. It was past eleven now, but it was the only place to be. If I had any luck, though I didn't exactly believe in my luck any more, Vernon would be there, along with everyone else.

The door at the end of the staircase had a broken lock. The sign on it said GYMNASIUM.

I took a deep breath, lifting the heel, and pushed the door open.