in this gray city,
it ain’t got a chance

“So, how would you like to spend the time?”

I frowned at Baekhyun, who had casually taken off his fake glasses and was looking at me with an expression of mild interest. “Why would you say that?”

“Am I not supposed to?”

Unbelievable. I didn't reply for a moment, pulling my legs closer to myself under the table and withdrawing my hands from the top. “As someone who initiated the whole mentoring/surveillance idea, it's not the most normal move for you to ask me how I want to spend my time with you.”

“You're not making my sense,” he said in an offhand manner, an amused smile now balancing on his lips. “Does this mean you're angry at me for saying that you needed to be monitored? It was going to happen anyway.”

I stared at him, thrown off and further pissed by his nonchalant behaviour. Of course, I could say now that I usually acted on illogical impulses, but during conversation, it was easier to control myself. Well, unless the person I was talking to was pretty much the reason I didn't have any personal freedom anymore.

“Can I go home, Baekhyun?” I questioned, making my voice twist into mock politeness. “Or is that too much to ask for?”

His smile didn't fall, but his eyes settled on me seriously despite the tilt to his lips. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

My lips pursed. It was even worse with him playing along and not even pretending to be bothered by my words. Back when we had been sort-of study partners in college, he had still been stoic, but at least he'd shown a little more emotion—from curiosity to helpfulness to shyness. Only that was probably a cover to make it easier for me to talk to him.

I was probably disturbed at the thought of being alone with him after he had revealed himself to be the informant.

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows at me. “Might as well try to have something of a rapport if we're going to be together twenty four seven for a few days.”

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to hide my utter disgust even under a thin veil. “Well, we had that, remember? Back when you were actually only trying to get information out of me.”

Surprisingly, a look of discomfort flashed across his face. He dropped his hands from his face to the table, picking up the glasses and playing with the arm. “It was necessary if we wanted to know what we were getting into, with recruiting you and all.”

“And no one else was willing.”

“To be fair, no one else would have been capable of pulling that façade,” he said, raising a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Except maybe Vernon—but that's not the point. And it wasn't just about information.”

The last line made me physically grit my teeth in order to contain myself from walking away right then. Maybe if it had been someone else, it would have still been plausible, but with Baekhyun I couldn't help but be wary of any potentially misleading comments he made. “What could that reason be, I wonder?”

He smiled again, this time a little wider, not a full-blown grin but a yet more convincing one filled with warmth instead of amusement. “You've lived in Daejeon all your life, correct?”

My brow furrowed. He could have been trying to get something more out of me, but then it was possible that he already knew most of it. “So?”

“When did you get into the bikers?” He asked, steepling his fingers in front of him, making eye contact with me in that chilling way of his. “Not in terms of your age, exactly...as in how many years ago?”

I frowned a bit, trying to remember. The period of time I had spent in my last few months in Daejeon were fuzzier than ever, almost feeling like a movie I had been a part of instead of something that had actually happened to me. But not quite. The pain was still there, and the constant alertness that had followed me ever since I had come to Seoul.

“About two or so years ago, I guess,” I answered, picking at the cuff of my denim jacket and avoiding his eyes. “It hasn't been much time since I came here, and before that I was in rehab for a few months, and since I wasn't with them for more than a year...yeah, two years, I think.”

As I spoke, I braced myself for the either utterly disgusted or utterly curious reaction that was bound to come, but Baekhyun only nodded, his expression completely sealed off. “High school?”

“Yeah, which is why I started college around a year later than usual,” I said. “It's a permanent blot in my record, but then I guess I won't be doing too much anyway.”

My voice had turned acidic by the last sentence, but he seemed almost apathetic to my bitterness. Most racers or dealers, I guessed, didn't exactly think of having a proper career in the legal sense, so I had thought it might have been something interesting for him, but then this was Baekhyun, so maybe not.

I breathed in, trying to keep my emotions from taking me under again. His face had a faraway look, as if he had drifted away from the conversation.

“Since you already know so much about me, shouldn't I know at least something about you, too?” I tried, biting my lip as I spoke. “Or am I too untrustworthy for that kind of thing?”

Once again, his eyes filled with amusement, as he surveyed me with curiosity and slight amazement. “I was a part of the bikers before.”

Okay. I hadn't been expecting that.

For a few moments, I stared at him, uncomprehending. Bikers? Baekhyun? For some reason, it seemed believable despite my experience with him. I could see him with the trademark jacket, maybe the logo...yes. Maybe that was the familiar vibe I had initially gotten from him, the usual indifference the riders had and maybe the way he spoke.

It reminded me of Daejeon.

“Oh.” I didn't know what else to say. “I was talking about the normal part of your life, but okay.”

The corners of his lips curved into a slight smile. “Is any part of our lives normal anymore?” He asked, then chuckled to himself for a bit. “Well, it's just college. What's there to know?”

“We share the same major. And the minor.” I raised an eyebrow. “Was that a coincidence or some strategic move?”

“A coincidence, actually,” he said, running a slender finger over the rim of his glasses. “But it's not very relevant now, since I don't think either of us can say we're prioritizing college.”

“Why not?” I frowned. “I still have to try, because I have my dad and there's no way I'll be able to drive forever. At least you still have an important part to play in all of this…” I faltered. As far as I remembered, he was actually good at chemistry. “But I thought you studied.”

I tried not to think about how I'd had no contact with my father for almost four days, but it was still a constant thought at the back of my mind. My dad, who would probably lose it if he ever found out about this, who called me up if I wasn't home by eight...where was he, anyway?

Did something happen to him? I pushed down my anxiety. Thinking about that was not going to help anyone.

Baekhyun studied me for a moment, with something odd about his gaze. “Yes. Yes, I do.” His words were measured. “So you're that person.”

“What person?”

There was a short break as he looked at me, gaze filled with scrutiny as if he was deciding the best possible way to respond to my question.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Nothing at all.”

──────

SOMEWHERE IN DOWNTOWN SEOUL

2:43 P.M.

“Are you sure he's the one?” The boy raised his eyebrows, tone filled with scepticism as he ran his fingers over the hood of the glossy black car. “And that they're here?”

The heat made the air over the metal shimmer, making the atmosphere in the room more oppressed and unstable. The brunet stood a few feet away from the man, who was clutching a silvery briefcase in his hand, taking in the mods.

“Of course,” the man next to him answered, nodding curtly. “I would never forget someone like that, and I double-checked with the police database in Daejeon—it’s definitely him.”

The boy frowned, nodding a bit to himself as he took in the response. Yes, it was understandable that the man would be ruffled, and even though he counted on that to a certain extent, he couldn't let it run rampant.

He straightened, pulling back his shoulders, making the cloth of the jacket strain over his muscles. There was sweat staining the fringe of his hair again, but he paid no attention, instead focusing on the more pressing matters at hand. The boy turned on his heel, facing the man with a set face.

“Should we let him be?”

The man hesitated. He wasn't used to be asked for an opinion seriously, and he wasn't used to giving much of those, either. He knew, already, that the young brunet wouldn't have asked him if not for his connection to the subject, but it still kept him on his toes.

One false move, and it was over.

“One one hand, it would probably make it easier for the racers, and they definitely need some help right now.” The man furrowed his eyebrows, choosing his words as carefully as he could. “But then, it might be too...risky. And we can't have that, not with her around.”

The boy nodded slowly, eyes glazing over as he considered the options. “We can't let her see them, yet.”

“But she already knows—”

“But not who, specifically,” the boy interrupted. “It might cloud her judgement.”

The two looked at each other for a moment, the same thought running through both of their minds, but it was the man who spoke first.

“You think she might change over?”

The brunet pursed his lips, golden-brown eyes turning stony. “We can't rule that out.”

There was a pause as the room filled to the brim with tension. It was a logical argument, both of them knew that, but not very convincing if not put across in a particular way.

“We'll let it run for a bit, maybe a few days will be enough for them to at least get into routine,” the boy continued, bringing his hands together in front of him, voice dropping to a mutter. “There’s no way anything major will happen anytime soon, but if we let her be pushed down...well, if I know anything about her, we know what happens next.”

The man looked at him uncomfortably, not sure if he should speak. “Wouldn't that be too much of a risk?”

“No, we could use the push.” The brunet waved away his concern. “It will start with her and end with her, though we'll still focus on keeping her from bearing the brunt of it.”

The wards were final, signalling the end of the conversation, but there were still unspoken thoughts lingering in the air. “When do you think he will move in?” The man questioned, a tremor in his voice.

The boy smiled grimly, turning half-awake from him. “Anytime, Hwang.” He sighed. “Anytime.”