@lee sungah ⁹⁵ The hat is an accessory Myungsoo despises enough to play with more than he tried it on his head. Ceremonies are rare enough for the hat to grow a malformation around its center, bent by the pressure applied by his arm for how strong and often the police officer carries it, stuck between waist and arm. But today the lobby of his residence is crawling with officers, higher ups. When someone wealthy dies, it is never a small deal, that he knows best, but he is not here to help and he wishes to avoid any superior who would change his priority for the day to be knocking at the doors of his neighbors, new and old flings. So he casually walks through the chaos of police hierarchy, hat on and removes it only when he slides in a free elevator and stresses the button to close the doors, quick. Off he goes, almost to heaven.
There's a world, way above his floor. A completely different strata of floors, a different social ladder up there he hardly ever collides with because up those floors, clouds, dwell people he is too different from. That girl with the tragic end was one of them. The elevator bells the arrival and he finds an intendant right upon reaching the floor: it is entirely hers, that wealthy woman he is to interview. With all the money she has, would she still embezzle money? Sure, he can believe that. But the scale to which the crimes are committed Myungsoo knows someone with a real brain for shady transactions must be the mastermind and sue him to have no flair whatsoever, appearances seriously make him question the need to even question some girl born with a golden spoon in her hand. He nods when asked if this is about the recent incident, not exactly lying since his team has been tracking suspicious transfers of money up to last night, but he knows what his host believes, hoping the element of surprise may help him see through her game, if she plays any.
He considers leaving without a word for some minutes but comes snacks, if he is to believe the middle aged woman tending to him: this is the first five star afternoon tea and biscuit he has had in forever. So he stays, trying the snacks one by one, frowning more and more at the indecently tasty bites. He regrets leaving without a bag, and when he hears someone coming in, he actually considers filling his hat with the delicacies.
"Hello Miss Lee Sungah. Officer Shin Myungsoo from the metropolitan police department." He bows, but this is no common perp. This is what models look like when they are off the red carpet. This is not even a bigshot smartie playing monopoly with real money in hedge funds and fooling the taxes services. The is yet another afternoon delight he cannot possibly fit discreetly into his hat.
"I have a few questions regarding your recent activities online, and to be precise the large amounts of money wired from accounts almost every day to offshores accounts that usually disappear from all records." A pause for dramatic purposes and to read her surprise of the absence of it: "Could you tell me if you are the one handling those transfers or if there is someone else doing it for you?" And both ways, he is accusing her of something she's innocent of, until proven guilty. He has forgotten about the small snacks, his attention on her alone, keeping his distance.
the ring of her phone jerked him out of her sleep, causing her to sit up in a bed of tangled of silk sheets. sungah had to take a moment to calm her annoyance as she cast a glance at the clock. 14:24. she heaved a hefty sigh, falling back onto her pillows. gaze made of dark embers fixed into the ceiling, trying to will herself back into a daze of sleep. alas, what was sleep? it came hard for her, for someone who weighed the burden of what felt like the world on her shoulders. and even if she had sought it herself, it never eased her soul and perhaps this was one of her vices; her greed that made her nights into days filled with restlessness.
her phone rang again and she in a breath as she made a blind grab for it, lifting it to her face to check on the message. and immediately wanted to chuck it at the wall.
— message from: ❛mrs. seo❜
: miss sungah, there is a policeman at the door. he's here to ask you about miss go. should i send him away?
sungah sighed, placing her phone down on her tummy for a moment. her teeth found her lower lip, biting and gnawing on the plump flesh in pensiveness as she did out of habit. she'd dreaded going to the police station yesterday and despite the confidence she'd carried herself in, anxiety had settled in her; had she ruined herself? she would only find out if she met this investigation head's on. grabbing her phone again, she quickly typed a message back to her housekeeper, rising from her cozy nook. she made a grab for her pyjamas shirt, slinging it over the tanktop she'd worn to bed. bare feet found the cold marble floor of the apartment she shared with her father, luxury tainted in every corner as she made her way to the living room. mrs. seo had been quick to spot her, her short and lovingly cherubic self bounding over to where the young lady stood.
"miss, i've offered him tea and snacks. is there anything else you'd like?" the woman asked, her plump face etched into a kind smile.
"that is all for now, mrs. seo. thank you," she muttered, pausing briefly to let the middle aged woman walk away before stepping into the premise of the living room. her face was set into a cold canvas, void of emotion like she did usually. lee sungah was a force to reckon with and even detectives needed to know that.
She hated such pompous events, the kind that meant prancing around in an uncomfortable dress for everyone to fawn over the woman another person was becoming. Lee Sungah loved attention especially when she was by default stuck with the group of young ladies her age but truth be told, at that very moment, all she wanted to do was squeeze out of the corset that tightened her ribs almost painfully and head to the closest McDonald's for a Big Mac. The foie gras on bland saltines wasn't doing very much for her stomach.
She stood at the table laden with amuse-bouches and hors d'oeuvres she couldn't even begin naming, sipping on a glass of cold water. Five minutes of breathing space and bliss, she would take it, savor it before she had-
"You're hiding away again?" Lee Sunghyun approached, knowing grin disappeared under a beard of salt and pepper. He was a tall man, of built stature that radiated power and turned heads when he walked into the room. Her father came to a stop next to where she stood, beginning to perusing the menu displayed.
"I'm not hiding," she scoffed, lying right through her teeth. She didn't need him to know: how suffocating it was to be in a room of people she detested, donning a smile simply for the sake of it.
Her father nodded, picking up a vanilla cannoli to eye level, inspecting it for a moment before he took a bite. "The Kang's are here. Take that friend of yours with you and go socialize, you need to make a good impression.”
Her gaze found her father's face, reflecting the thousand and one lights from the chandelier overhead despite the incredulity that swarmed in the dark pools of obsidian.
"So you'd have me thrown to the wolves?" she asked and wallowed her fury, forcing herself to place her glass down. Warning. Simmer down. And as sweetly as she could, she smiled with the brightness of the sun. Innocent.
The older man simply turned to his daughter, grabbing a napkin to white the sugar dust off his fingers as he laughed.
"Frankly, my dear, I pity the wolves instead." Oh, how right he was.
Shooting him a tighter lipped smile, she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, her need for cold water absolutely down the drain. If she were to make it through the night, she’d need something stronger than bubbly and she was hellbent on finding that fix. Hell, even a cigarette would do.
She expertly maneuvered her way into the crowd, the smile still on her face as she came across acquaintances and neighbors alike; they were all here to celebrate Jihyun too and while Sungah herself didn’t know the girl that well, a birthday party was all the more reason to get drunk. She’d made sure she’d wished her classmate earlier that evening and glad the birthday girl seemed to like her Fendi collection, Sungah had gladly sunk back. She had three glasses of champagne before she began to lose count altogether, the glasses of wine she had earlier beginning to buzz in her veins. Somewhere amidst the crowd, in the furthest corner, she probably spotted her darn twin but she couldn’t be sure— it was too packed.
Taking a deep breath, she began pushing past people, intent on searching for him. Maybe he would go on a quick smoke trip with her now.
Alas, she didn’t get far. Her phone vibrated against her calf, strapped tightly to her skin with a bandage. Biting back a groan, she quickly ducked to unhook it from under her dress, raising it to eye level to peer at the caller. Who the hell dar- oh.
Her phone read 23:37 and right below the time was a name she dreaded. Her tongue swiped over her teeth, visage etched into a canvas of cold composure as she took one look around the party hall and left, phone pressed to her ear.
“What is it?”
—❛ fast forward, Feb 14th, 00:02.
Her breath came out in shaky gasps, her bare feet picking up against the cold concrete of the emergency staircase. The door that she’d slammed close behind her reverberated in the air, echoing for floors down.
She was a sweaty mess, hair that was once prettily styled into a French coif of waves ticking to her face and neck in messy and sticky rivulets as she limped down the stairs, the skirt of her silk dress bunched up between fingers that clutched her shoes and phone. She could feel the warmth of her blood from the gash on her leg seep through the fabric, staining the once pristine peach cloth with a horrid shade of crimson. The crimson liquid ran down her leg, in rivers of terrifying accident down her calves hence leaving bloodied footprints on the floor. It was a scene from anyone’s worst nightmares, of blood and fear but truth be told, she simply wanted for the pain in her leg to ease. Nothing more.
Three more floors, and she'd find help.
Her vision blurred and she had to force herself to pause to rid her of the lightheadedness. She counted three breaths and the rush began again, as best as she could with a wounded leg and adrenaline rushing in her heart, unaware of the chaos the party she had left was in.
A deafening silence fell over the floor as she burst through the doors, gaze fixated on her in horror. Sungah was sure that if anyone dropped a pin, she would have been able to hear it too even amidst the hushed whispers of terror and fear, the accusations that began picking up the moment she rushed in. IN all fairness, it was a sight in itself for the heiress of Lee Corps. She knew exactly what she looked like, the bloodied mess of torn silk and sweaty flesh, comparable to the perfect young lady she was just mere hours ago. She let out a sigh of relief, allowing herself to close her eyes for a moment.
"Sungah, what is going on?" Her father’s voice sounded as if an echo from far away.
Lee Sungah heard someone speak but before she had time to reply, the words dying on her tongue, the darkness took over her. The grip on her shoes and phone loosened, crashing to the marbled floor of the hall with a loud thud just as her legs gave out and she fell to the cold floor, unconscious.
