Chapter Text
TARGET: CARSON KYOU. OPERATIONAL WINDOW: 72 HOURS.
It was cold in Tokyo that day. It was one of the few times Wooyoung was already in the country his mission was to take place. Wooyoung rarely ever considered himself lucky. But that day, he considered the fact that he was craving authentic sushi to be lucky. Wooyoung felt his phone buzz and pulled his freezing fingers out of his pocket to look at it. He looked through the fog of his breath to see the picture he'd been sent. An image of a man with a disgusting smile. The kind of smile that made you want to break teeth. Carson Kyou: corporate predator, arms broker, and a man who treated people like assets he could buy and discard. Another thing Wooyoung considered lucky: when his missions felt like justice. A small justice that a small man like him could give out.
Wooyoung studied the photos for a moment. The pictures of his mark always revealed more than a file ever could. This photo told him that Mr. Kyou was arrogant. And hopefully careless. Obviously weak. He watched the message disappear and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He took another sip of the expensive Sake he was nursing at the outdoor bar and looked out onto the bustling streets. Wooyoung always liked the anonymity of the city. No one cares who you are as long as you keep moving. Wooyoung finished his drink and tipped the bartender. It was time to keep moving.
As Wooyoung sat on the train back to his lodging, he pulled out his small leather notebook. The train’s The notebook he’s kept since he started this job. Every detail of his plan is always meticulously noted. The train’s movement provided a soothing rocking to his always chaotic mind. He carefully sketched the tattoo on Carson’s arm from memory, and next to it, ideas for an outfit. He sketched until he felt motion sick and his stop was nearing. And just as he had done so many times before, Wooyoung would soon use his killer looks to do what he does best- kill.
✨
The next night, Wooyoung found Carson leaving an exclusive club, drunk and loud. Wooyoung watched from across the street, invisible in the press of the crowd, just as he liked before he needed to become the center of attention. He tailed Carson discreetly to the following location, which was known as his favorite club in Tokyo. Wooyoung entered the club with ease, with a few flirtatious words to the bouncer. Of course, he never knew whether the ease with which he entered high-society parties was the organization’s doing or his own. Wooyoung made his way to the bar and ordered his regular drink, the Old Fashioned, even though he rarely took a sip. He liked his mind to be clear.
“Drinking alone?”
Wooyoung turns to see Carson standing right beside him. Of course. Wooyoung is dressed exactly as his type. With his blonde wig and green contacts, he looks exactly like the young boys Carson had preyed on before. His appearance, carefully crafted to deceive, is one of his most potent weapons. Carson smiles, and it’s even uglier up close.
“Ah..no, I’m waiting for someone.” Wooyoung looks down and feigns innocence. He tries to force a blush across his face as if he’s new to such attention.
“Really? I promise you they won’t be as interesting as me…or as rich.”
✨
The ride to Carson's penthouse is short. Carson had drunk a lot before they left the club. By the look on his driver's face, this was a standard practice, including Wooyoung’s own presence in the car. Wooyoung tries to continue the drunken conversation through Carson’s hiccups without rolling his eyes too noticeably. When they reach his house, Wooyoung watches as Carson stumbles upstairs. Idiot, he thinks. But he’s grateful to no longer be in such an enclosed space with him. That's when he feels it. That familiar sensation he gets during his missions. Someone is always watching him. They always know exactly when the mission is done. Wooyoung doesn’t like to think too much about those details. He learned long ago not to bite the hand that feeds him and has spent years convincing himself it’s better this way. At the door, Carson fumbles with his keys, thoroughly intoxicated, while Wooyoung pretends to stumble in behind him. Wooyoung distracts himself by focusing on his plan, poisoned capsules in hand.
“Make yourself comfortable”, Carson says, shrugging off his coat and making his way to the whiskey bottle on his coffee table. Wooyoung wonders for a second what kind of misdeeds Carson’s trying so hard to forget. He doesn’t think about it for longer than that, though, as all of Carson’s guilt will soon come to an end, and he soon won’t be able to do those deeds that caused it in the first place.
The penthouse is all glass and money, exactly as it looked in the picture he took through the window earlier that day. Wooyoung moves like he belongs there. He’s long given up the innocent act. His mark is much too drunk to realize he isn’t really a sweet, innocent little boy. He turns on the record player and pulls off the silk scarf tied around his neck.
“Come. Sit here.” Wooyoung shows him to the chair in front of him. Carson sits down and leans close to Wooyoung. His rank breath almost makes Wooyoung gag. He ties his target's wrists down with the silk scarf right behind him. Carson laughs nervously, like the alcohol is catching up to him.
“Oh. Kinky,” he says. Wooyoung leans even closer, narrowing his eyes seductively.
“Relax,” he whispers, close enough to make him think Wooyoung will kiss him. He never kisses. He never needs to. Wooyoung slips away to the bar and pours two glasses of whiskey. He drops the pills into both, swirls the glass until they disappear. Perfect. Untraceable. No autopsy or test would ever find it. He comes back to see Carson smirking at him in excitement. Gross.
“Drink,” he says, pressing the glass against Carson’s mouth. He obeys instantly. They always do.
Wooyoung watches him take the smallest sip when-
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound echoes loudly against the soft classical music playing in the background. Carson turns away from the glass.
“Ignore it,” Wooyoung whispers. This isn’t part of his plan. Wooyoung ignores the irritation boiling in him and tries to bring the glass back to Carson’s mouth.
But the knocking comes again. Louder.
Carson squirms against the ties. “Who the hell is that?”
Then a voice. Firm. Male. “Sir, it’s urgent.”
Carson freezes. Panic flashes across his face. He almost looks sober. “Shit. It might be my wife coming up. Hide.”
Before Wooyoung can protest, Carson wrenches himself free from the ties and stumbles toward the door.
“Hide!”
Wooyoung hides, hoping the encounter will end soon. He’ll just delay the plan for a few minutes—no need to stray from it. Wooyoung is sure it isn’t his wife. He made sure his wife would be occupied for the night. Wooyoung watches from a slit in the coat closet door.
A man rushes in, locking the door behind him. He brings just his broad shoulders and determined eyes. The man looks around for a few seconds and misses Wooyoung in the closet.
“Who are-” Carson starts. But he’s cut off by the buff man’s hand clamping around Carson’s throat. He slams him into the wall, strangling the air from his lungs.
Carson thrashes, gagging, eyes bulging. The man leans in, teeth bared, staring into his victim’s eyes. Maybe Carson pissed off more people than the organization thought. Maybe his work was never needed here. But this is his kill. This is his night. He didn’t put up with this horrible date just for it to end like this. Wooyoung makes a split-second decision—something he rarely does. But he’s been feeling lucky lately.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Wooyoung jumps out of the closet. The intruder freezes mid-strangle, his head snapping toward Wooyoung. Surprise flickers across his face, like he can’t believe someone had been there the whole time. Their eyes lock. Looks like the intruder’s plans aren’t going well either.
The stranger’s grip on Carson eases just enough for the man to wheeze and try to catch his breath. “Listen, pretty,” the intruder starts, voice low, patronizing. It’s the first time he’s heard his voice. “Stay out of this. Take your payment out of his wallet and leave.”
Wooyoung can’t help it; he actually laughs. This man thinks he’s working a different kind of job tonight.
The man’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” Wooyoung tilts his head, smile widening. Even if his plan went off the rails, this is more entertaining than any movie he has ever watched. The intruder stares at him, studying Wooyoung’s smirk. He looks kind of like a cat, looking at him like that.
Carson seizes the chance, shoving against the man’s chest with a burst of desperate strength, but the man barely falters. Carson staggers and writhes on the ground.
Wooyoung narrows his eyes at the intruder, folding his arms, leaning against the wall like he has all the time in the world. At this point, Wooyoung decides he wants to play, much like he would with an actual cat. “You’re so sloppy.”
The man blinks. “Sloppy?” He looks genuinely confused, like the word has never once been said to him.
“Yes.” Wooyoung’s tone is light, mocking. “Synonyms are messy. Disorganized. Careless. Should I keep going?”
The man tightens his jaw, irritation flashing across his face. “Listen. I don’t know what kind of escort you are or what kind of game you’re playing. But you clearly seem used to this lifestyle. So just…get the hell out of here, and if you tell anyone what you saw tonight, I will personally come find you.”
Wooyoung tilts his head to the side, smug grin spreading. He knows he’s getting under his skin. And for some messed-up reason, Wooyoung finds his assumptions cute. “And what will you do once you find me?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Hm.” Wooyoung’s laugh is soft, low. “But I kind of do want to know.”
For the first time, the man really falters. He doesn’t let it show much, but Wooyoung catches it. The way his eyes flicker, the way his weight shifts. Like he’s not sure how to deal with such a lunatic.
Then there’s movement and sound from the floor- a loud groan.
Both men snap their heads toward Carson. He’s rolling, coughing, trying to push himself upright. Pathetic. He’s still alive.
Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate. He grabs his silk tie from near the chair, and in seconds, it’s around Carson’s neck. He pulls it tight, holding the man in place with effortless precision on the floor, sitting behind him. He never really liked to get his hands dirty (or rather his gloves), but guesses it’s needed in this case.
He glances up at the intruder and keeps his voice stable behind the thrashing man. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
The man stares at him.
Wooyoung’s smile sharpens. “I’ll let you have this one.”
REPORT RECEIVED. NO CREDIT ASSIGNED. REWARD SPLIT. NEXT TARGET PENDING.