"What kind of job?"

Ten was surprised at hearing his own voice. In all the time that he had spent with Lee Taemin, not a single syllable had been able to leave the depths of his throat. The man's presence was terrifying, and fascinating at the same time, and it was hard to think straight when facing him.

Taemin had approached him in his art gallery at around midnight, after it had been closed to visitors. Ten had been confused at first, and a little annoyed, because he liked to spend the dark hours after every show in the dark comfort of his gallery uninterrupted, alone except for the company of his paintings.

His irritation had quickly changed into shock when he realized that the person who had come up to him was none other than the CEO of Lee Industries, one of the biggest companies in the entire country. What the great Lee Taemin wanted to do with an unimportant artist like him, Ten had no idea, even after a few minutes of very one-sided conversation.

Taemin gazed at him thoughtfully, as if considering the best way to answer his question. After a few moments of awkward silence, he unfolded his arms and looked over at Ten mildly. "How do you feel about crime?"

"Crime?" Now, he was even more confused. Ten was pretty sure he hadn't done anything illegal in his life, except for the time he'd broken into a store when he was fourteen, but even then, he hadn't taken anything. Still, he tried to answer the question as correctly as possible, in case this was an interview. "I think it's a plague."

"It spreads, doesn't it?" Taemin asked. Ten stared at him, wondering if it was a follow-up question or merely a rhetorical one, when Taemin spoke again. "Would you like to get rid of it?"

"Would I like to what?"

Ten bit his tongue as soon as the question escaped him, blushing crimson. He hadn't meant to burst, but Taemin's question had been so surprisingly strange that his mind had reacted immediately. He usually considered himself to be a well-mannered person, who knew how to carry himself and behave with rich, powerful strangers, but Lee Taemin was something entirely different, both in presence and in speech. Every step of the conversation felt like he was close to stepping on a landmine.

But the millionaire only smiled. "I understand that this might be shocking for you, with a perfect stranger showing up out of nowhere at suspicious hours," he said, "but I am being perfectly literal. Would you like to fight crime, Ten?"

"Would I like to..." Ten trailed off, blinking at the man. A sudden, jarring thought hit him, and a spike of trepidation went through his chest. Is this about the...ability? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to give it away in case Taemin didn't know about it. "I don't understand. How could I possibly do that?"

Taemin's eyes looked snakelike as they glinted under the weak light. "Invisibility, of course."

His suspicion, which had been growing slowly but steadily, skyrocketed. How did Taemin know where and when to find him? How did he know about his ability? And what could he possibly want from him?

"What do you mean by invisibility?" he asked carefully.

"Turning into something that cannot be seen," Taemin said. "I think you know that better than most people."

Ten took a careful step back, smoothing down the front of his shirt. The tête-à-tête had already been strange, but it had just taken an unacceptably bizarre turn. All he wanted at that moment was to escape, somehow, and maybe change his name and fly to Peru—though he had a feeling that the blond would find him anyway.

"The reason I'm here is to recruit you for a project," the man continued softly. "I'm assembling a group of humans who have abilities above the average, in order to eradicate crime in the city." He cocked his head slightly to the side, and regarded him with hooded, dark eyes. "I'm not asking you to join me immediately—all I ask of you is to accompany me so I can tell you more about this project. After you've seen all, you are free to make your decision."

Ten felt as if he had been standing on a carpet all his life, and the carpet had just been swept out from under his feet. The offer was ridiculous, something out of a comic book, but he couldn't help but feel an odd curiosity. For his entire life, he had hidden away his ability and himself, and now he finally had a chance to use it for good.

But then again, there was a chance that this was all just a ploy, and what Taemin really wanted was to sell his organs into the black market. Ten was usually a careful person, never basing his decisions off a gut feeling, especially life-and-death ones. Now, though, he felt an irresistible pull towards this man and his ideas, like a sailor being drawn to the song of the sirens.

"All right," he said slowly.

"Excellent." Taemin smiled. "Let's go."

"Now?"

|

"Yes, right now."

"Woah." Mark folded his arms over his chest, patting his upper arms anxiously. "I'm so nervous."

The orange-haired male glanced at him in half-amusement, half-affection. It hadn't been a long time since he'd personally met the younger boy, but he had already developed an unshakable fondness for him. "Why?"

"What if they don't, like, like me?" Mark questioned, staring down at the view of the city. "I know everyone wants to save the world and stuff, except, like, villains, obviously, but I mean—saving the world would be a little less fun if you're working with someone you don't like. I don't know."

Baekhyun resisted the urge to reach over and ruffle the younger's raven hair. Instead, he smiled, keeping his expression as reassuring as possible when he spoke. "I wouldn't worry about it. I like you, and I just met you."

"Exactly."

"Hm?"

"I mean," Mark said, uncrossing his arms and raising them in a wild gesture that was supposed to convey something, "you probably just like me because you just met me. You barely know me, and I've been told I can get pretty annoying—"

"Mark." Baekhyun cut him off firmly, placing his hands on both the boy's shoulders, steering him so he faced him. "It'll be fine. You were chosen for a reason, and even if they don't like you, remember that it's their problem, not yours."

Mark nodded, though he still looked unsure. "You know," he started, hesitating a for a bit before continuing. "This place is really cool."

Baekhyun smiled, brushing the fringe of his orange hair with the tips of his fingers. "Yes, I know," he said, chuckling. "I've been living here for years."

"You live in the building?" Mark asked, aghast. He looked through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the floor, out into the city beyond. They were on the twentieth floor of the building, and the view was stunning. From there, you could see the entire skyline of Capitol City. It was almost evening, and the city looked even more beautiful in the dying sunlight. "You know what? I think I know why Taemin asked everyone to come here. If you, like, saw the city like this, you'd be pretty motivated to save it."

The older laughed. "I guess I can see your logic."

Mark glanced over at him with a grin, then down at his watch. "Uh." He frowned. "Shouldn't they have reached this place already?"

"They're probably in the elevator," Baekhyun said. "Except Taeyong. I think he'll be taking the stairs."

Mark's eyebrows jumped. "All those stairs? There's like, a bazillion of them."

"Well," Baekhyun arched his eyebrows, smiling playfully. "He is superhuman."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence—well, as comfortable as it could get with Mark's jittery nerves. He touched his chest, then looked at Baekhyun. He'd been pretty curious about what kind of project Taemin had been talking about when he'd approached him, and now, his anxiety was rising as quickly as his interest.

Mark had been in the toilet when Taemin had shown up at his favorite diner, which was kind of embarrassing since the millionaire had had to wait for quite some time for him to come out. From Baekhyun's words, he had gathered that the duo had stalked all of them and sketched up their day-to-day routines. They had probably been expecting to find Mark on one of the seats, happily munching on his favorite fries, but got more than they bargained for when they found him not-so-happily excreting the fiery remains of the Spicy Special Burger.

It wasn't his fault, though, really.

Mark had been in the moment he'd seen Taemin's face. He practically worshipped the man. He was one of the most ingenious minds of his time, and every kid in his physics class probably kept a picture of them under their pillow.

Footsteps sounded on the floor behind them, and he half-turned at the sound. It was Lucas, his gait straight and purposeful as he made his way towards them. Baekhyun's face fell into a small frown, a habit that Mark had somehow picked up over their few hours together.

"They're here," Lucas announced, and the doors opened.