@jang nari ⁸⁹ As soon as Nari exits her unit Youngho puts a smile on his face. It's practiced, but genuine, and he returns her wave with one of his own. He's happy to see her, all things considered. They haven't seen much of each other in the recent months and weeks for a number of reasons. Life, work, time. He shakes his head to assuage her worries. "No, it's fine. Don't worry about it. The drive helped take my mind off some things." he says, and turns to press the button on the elevator and call the carriage back to the 89th floor. "I'm sorry we're meeting so late. At least the café will hopefully be quiet at this time of night."
The ride down from nearly the top of the Perseus back to the lowest level seems to go by quicker than his trip up. Youngho guides them to his car and drives them out of the parking garage, back onto the streets. He turns down the radio until it serves as background noise, and glances at Nari in the passenger seat. "How have you been?" he asks, turning a street corner and facing the road again. The café is only a few blocks away, so they should arrive in a few minutes.
@kim youngho ²⁷ Nari wonders if it's a good idea for her to go out and meet with someone this quickly after her life has taken a turn for the worse. But she quickly decides that this is much better than staying holed up in her unit alone, with only the silence to fuel the thoughts in her head without pause nor mercy. Her control over her life is quickly dissolving even when she tries not to let go of it, and it's incredibly exhausting to have to deal with whatever life wants to throw at her. She's just twenty years old, for god's sake — she shouldn't be /this/ stressed.
So Youngho's text, she decides, comes almost as the miraculous light that would take her out of her hellhole for a mind — at least, for the night. She steps out of her unit dressed in warm clothes, an oversized dark sweater with its front tucked into high waisted pants. A bag is loosely hanging from her shoulder, phone in her hand as she makes sure to lock her unit. She finds Youngho almost immediately, and her visage softens — an expression somewhere in between genuinity and the usual facade. Walking toward him, she waves a hand. "Sorry, I had to make you come here still. I hope it wasn't trouble in any way?"
@jang nari ⁸⁹ After the interrogation Youngho left the police station as quickly as possible, peeling out of the parking lot and slipping into the late afternoon traffic. The sky was a gradient of sunset blue fading into the oncoming indigo of night. He took a deep breath and jabbed at a button to turn on the radio. The latest pop song started playing and he to another road. The Perseus towered above the other buildings several blocks down, ominously dark now compared to the celebrations taking place just last night, full of fireworks and glitter.
Forced to stop at a traffic light Younho dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the display. 7:45PM. He sent a quick text to Nari, 'be there soon,' before tossing the device into the passenger seat and pressing on the accelerator once the light turned green. He pulled into the parking garage of the Perseus ten minutes later.
The trip from the first floor to the 89th felt especially slow this time. He looked up at the security camera in the corner, wondering what it saw the night before. He glanced outside the sleek curved glass to stare at the ground below. It was a long drop. Youngho stepped away and moved himself nearer to the doors, tapping his foot impatiently. He was out of the elevator as soon as it opened. He texted Nari again, 'here,' and decided to tack a smiley face on at the end. No reason to make her deal with his ty attitude right now. She wasn't the reason for it, and he didn't want to make her feel that way. The elevator closed behind him and chimed before descending to another floor, while he waits for Nari.
[ i'm soRRY IF THIS DKFJHSKJH respond with as much or as little as you like !!! also i started at nari's apartment if that's alright, and then we can move to the cafe ! ]
@lee sungchul ⁵¹ sungchul seems to be calming down — or at least, nari hopes so. her hands are lightly trembling as she holds onto him, and she can only hope that he doesn't notice it. she decides to let go of him for now, places her trembling hands hidden in between her thighs. this won't do, she thinks to herself. he can't see her being scared or it'll make him panic once again, and she can't have that. not right now, no. she doesn't know exactly when it is that she's started caring for this man's well-being — when he can so very well destroy the image she's done so much to uphold — but she'll consider this the debt she's paying for.
(even if the debt shouldn't be this much of a risk and sacrifice on her side.)
her breaths continue to even out (or she's trying, at least — the effort is there), and she tries to calm her heart down by forcing her thoughts to turn for a more rational and logical route. she purses her lips, as an idea pops in her head, and she doesn't know whether this would work for sure, but lies are her best suit, she supposes. this will /have/ to work.
the knife is something they cannot rid themselves of. the cameras are most likely working, and they will probably find out about the little scene that she and sungchul had last night — unless for some reason, it's stopped working. but for now, she isn't going to take any chances. she's learned that the best lie told is one touched with the truth.
and that is exactly how they are going to play this out.
"... we'll retell what happened last night from another perspective."
@jang nari ⁸⁹ nari's firm grip on his shoulders does nothing to slow down the pounding against his chest and the uncontrollable shaking throughout his body, but it grounds him back to reality somewhat. her words prompt a question to pop up in his mind, but he dismisses it before it could dominate his thoughts. he doesn't let go of his knees, but his arms slowly loosen around them as his eyes start to regain its focus. nari /knows/ — and maybe that's all he needs for now. his breathing comes out uneven as he tries to exhale, but at least he's stable enough to give her a wordless nod in response.
the next question that crosses sungchul's mind is this: since when did he come to trust her? their relationship had been unusual at best, and dangerous at worst. sitting mere inches away from him is jang nari, lily, the nation's little sister — whatever it is people used to refer to her public persona. and then there's him, lee sungchul, an outcast amongst the richest of kids who happens to have enough material from her to ruin the image she's worked (a little too hard, might he add) for. and to this day, he's certain that he's had the upper hand — that nari would be indebted to him until he gains enough courage to turn his bluff into action.
but life works in funny ways, doesn't it?
the video he has of her is buried somewhere in his camera roll — and now he finds himself relying on her, terrified of what awaits him the moment he leaves the newfound comfort of her unit. his gaze is much meeker in comparison to the unfazed look nari gives him. "do you..." he croaks out, mouth dry from the panic that had once taken over his body. "do you have a plan?"
@lee sungchul ⁵¹ the sound of nari's own heartbeats gradually becomes a distant lull in the back of her ears, and she wills herself to focus. sungchul's panicking, and for good reason. but she can't let him stay in panic for so long, or things would get worse even faster. her mind struggles to think of solutions, things they can work around so that this would turn into their favor somehow. "i know," is what she says, and her hold on his shoulders tightens, becomes firmer. "i know you didn't do it. i—" she pauses, the words, 'i trust you,' almost spilling from her lips, "—i know you don't have the heart to do it."
this is the boy that lila has fancied once in the past (and most likely continues to do so, honestly) — that alone is enough for nari to take his word for it.
and she doesn't know what it is that has her feeling as though she /has/ to help him, because as far as she's concerned, this should have been good for her, all things considered. she would lose the only thing that is threatening to expose her to the world, but this is simply too cruel, isn't it? this feels a lot like when he was suddenly expelled from highschool, when the wave of relief that she once expected to feel didn't come at all.
her gaze and jaw harden. lee sungchul looks so small in front of her, with his knees tucked to his chest like this, fear spread all over. this won't do — this is looking more and more like the demeanor of the guilty. "i need you to calm down for me first, sungchul," she says, tone the same as minutes earlier. "i... i'll help you get out of this safe and sound, but in return, i need you to calm down first. can you do that for me?" will she regret uttering those words so easily, so quickly? most likely, but at this moment, she only knows she's following what she /wants/ to do. "i know this isn't you, so you can trust me. take deep breaths, sungchul."
@jang nari ⁸⁹ go jihyun. the name lingers in his mind much longer than he would have expected.
it's strange, really — sungchul could count the number of times he had spoken to her with one hand, and even then, none of his fingers would have went down. he doesn't know the girl beyond her name and the few brief moments where she had caught his attention (and almost immediately loses it), so her death, albeit tragic, shouldn't be something that would send a gazillion of thoughts and emotions rushing through his head. nari's right — he needs to calm down. so he opens his mouth and gasps for air, only to choke it out in the form of a tearless sob.
he catches nari's unreadable gaze before his eyes start to lose focus, and the first coherent thought that pops up in his mind is how absurd the whole thing is. it's ironic how she ended up being more put together in a blink of an eye, and here he is, a mere acquaintance to jihyun at best, somehow convinced that the world is crumbling around him and that he's so damn screwed.
if only he didn't enter the elevator that night with a knife in hand.
he lets her guide his hand down and lets it rest on top of the cushion he had used for his head last night. nari's words do not register in his mind until moments later, the glimpse he had of her fall replaying like a broken record instead until he becomes numb to it. "it wasn't me." his voice takes on a defeated tone as he speaks. he doesn't need to know how he would look on the security camera footage — the fact that he went in with a weapon and came back looking distraught the same night jihyun died is enough for them to corner him. it may be suicide, sure — but his presence alone was too suspicious, too... convenient that it'll make them think otherwise.
"it wasn't me," sungchul repeats, this time shakier. "i don't— they'll think i pushed her off, won't they? but i— i wasn't even /there/ last night. i didn't lay a finger on her, i swear. it wasn't me this time." he brings his legs up to the sofa and holds them against his chest, trembling. a dreadful sense of paranoia starts creeping into his thoughts. "please— what should i do?"
@lee sungchul ⁵¹ nari herself is on the verge of something in between panicking and going into shock — but she chooses not to let herself go for either of them, and places sungchul's phone on top of the table, where the messages lay open, still appearing one after the other. she /has/ to stay calm, both for herself and the man by her side. there is no use for her to indulge in her own emotions — at least, not now; not when someone is still within vicinity and so obviously needs her help. 'you're an adult, nari,' she thinks to herself, her inner voice disturbingly similar to her mother's, 'you can and /will/ handle this, right?'
taking a deep breath, she moves to face him, meets his desperate gaze head-on, before she reaches out to hold onto his shoulders. she can /not/ have sungchul fall into a panic right here and now, not when they may have possibly implicated themselves last night. "you need to calm down," she says as gently and firmly as she can — and she can't shake the feeling that this is truly ironic, how she ends up doing this to someone who has quite the blackmail material on her for do many years now.
a hand trails from his shoulder to his wrist, slowly taking away the palm that's covering his mouth. the hold she has on him is gentle, quite unlike her usual attitude toward him. her heart is pounding within her chest, however calm she may seem, but acting is what she does best next to modelling and she pulls it off well.
her gaze hardens. "what—what you saw last night is most probably jihyun," she utters. there is no other way to explain it, but this only means that they may have ended putting themselves on the spotlight more than she would prefer. "it... it looks like it's suicide, but... they'd probably start asking around soon enough, especially with go minhyuk as her—"
at this, nari pauses, inhaling sharply.
"—as her father," she continues. her gaze falls back to the knife on the table, the light's reflection glinting against its blade. "and we... we have to make sure that you won't be mistakenly punished for something you diidn't do."
again, lies at the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back.
@jang nari ⁸⁹ the phone leaves his hands too easily as sungchul makes no effort to grab it back from her. he sits up and keeps his eyes trained at nari as she goes through his messages. the gradual shift in her expression is enough to tell him that he might as well abandon all hope now — that in contrary to his wishes, he hasn't been reading the messages wrong. at some point last night, probably a few floors above him, go jihyun—
it is now that he realizes that he could not simply forget the events of last night.
he remembers trembling inside the elevator (at midnight? a few minutes before midnight? he lost track of how long he stayed on that damn floor) as the door closed shut. he remembers how /pathetic/ his reflection on the blade of his knife had looked, how he had let his arms fall — yet he still held onto the knife like his life had depended on it. he remembers how seoul had looked from above, how the nightlights approached him as the elevator made its way down... and how abruptly a certain mysterious figure fell in the midst of the darkness.
"that was—" sungchul brings a hand up to cover his mouth, his body sinking against the couch as he vainly attempts to shake off the thoughts running through his head. it couldn't have been jihyun, he tries to convince himself — but the question is, why /wouldn't/ it be her? "last night," he manages to say after a long pause of silence. "what i saw last night..." the look he gives nari is desperate, almost begging — but what good would it do? "tell me... tell me it's not true."
@lee sungchul ⁵¹ nari's eyes flicker briefly to the knife that remains on the table, the memories from last night immediately flooding into her mind — and those are not welcomed, no, not at all. it's enough to let her embarrassment shimmer down, knowing that she has more pressing matters to attend to (not even including her /own/ problems), and she runs her hand through her hair, fingers going through lightly tangled locks as she attempts to fix her appearance at least.
she cannot believe that sungchul is right here in front of her right now, seeing her bare face first thing in the morning (or afternoon, doesn't matter, really), but she rests assure with the fact that she still looks good regardless, and this is just lee sungchul, what is she worrying for, really? sungchul's whisper takes her attention almost immediately, and she leans toward him, hovering over the lad. "what happened, let me see," she says, before taking his phone from his hold.
it doesn't take her long to scroll through the messages, letting the words move upwards, before realization sinks in. and the realization sinks hard and cold, a shiver running down her spine as her eyes widen. "what... jihyun's—jihyun's dead?" she breathes out, leaning back as her limbs begin to feel shaky, weak. his phone remains in her hand, grip tight, hand trembling. "how—what—" she thinks back to the words that fell from sungchul's lips last night, thinks back to what happened last night, and a gruesome image violates her mind that she has to close her eyes, flinching.
@jang nari ⁸⁹ sungchul wakes up to a gentle poke on his legs ー and a voice that sounds too... young to be his mother’s.
he turns away from the sunlight and grunts in response, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes before he blinks them open. it takes him a moment to register his surroundings ー and another minute to realize that the events of last night had in fact, not been a bizarre nightmare. his gaze shifts between his belongings, laid out on the coffee table in front of the couch he apparently fell asleep on ー and the owner of said couch. his mind threatens to conjure up the memories of last night upon seeing the knife resting on top of his phone, but he ultimately decides against speaking about it. enough is enough, he thinks. perhaps it would be better to pretend that nothing happened last night. “why, what day is it,” he grumbles instead, arms outstretched to reach for his phone and wincing when the blade of the knife hits the table.
it’s two in the afternoon, and his lockscreen tells him that he’s missed... hundreds of notifications from the residents’ group chat. he watches the unread message count rise up at an unusually rapid rate, with messages like “may she rest in peace :prayer:” or “my condolences, mr and mrs go” appearing every now and then. he doesn’t return his attention to nari until he finally gets the gist of the situation from the incoming messages, and when he does, his eyes widen in horror as he struggles to maintain his grip on his phone. “what...” he breathes out. “what happened last night...”
@lee sungchul ⁵¹ nari jolts to wake almost out if nowhere, but her eyes refuse to open as her sleep-ridden self only decudes to tighten her hold around the solid source of warmth by her side. it's comfortable, a little too much actually, but she only realizes how strange this a few beats too late, and her eyes blink open. the first thing she sees is a broad chest beneath her arm, and as her eyes widen in slow but certain realization, her gaze trailing up to see the familiar visage of lee sungchul, she immediately pushes herself up — up and away from the sleeping man. she reaches the other end of the couch almost too quickly, even though sungchul's long legs reach it still; even though she almost falls in the process. "wha—" her lips part wide and open, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, before she decides that it's only right that she disturbs his sleep /after/ he embarrasses her.
and so, she lightly prods his legs with her foot, pouting a little as she tries to hide her embarrassment. "hey, wake up. you'll end up seeing the next daylight if you continue sleeping!"
