[M] CH8 (1/2)

[CONTENTID1]Matter[/CONTENTID1][CONTENTID2]Chapter Eight[/CONTENTID2][CONTENTID3]When Sanghoon’s uncle told him that he’d found him a job as a personal driver, Sanghoon was ecstatic. He’d gone out to get a swanky new suit, he got a haircut; he even went to the spa for a massage to work out that shoulder pain he’d been struggling with.

By the end of the first day, he wanted to quit.

All he had to do was drive his boss to a warehouse so that he could look at a recent shipment of items that had trouble getting through customs. Sanghoon was told to follow his boss into the building – for moral support -- which he’d found odd, but complied with nonetheless. Upon entrance to the warehouse, he was threatened, someone broke a glass bottle over his head, and he had been shot at. Twice.

Sanghoon wasn’t the smartest man, but he knew a gang fight when he saw one (which admittedly had only been on television, but still). He told his uncle about what had happened, hoping to figure out why in the hell the old man had recommended him for such a position. Well, his uncle either didn’t care, or was too afraid of getting shot at to do anything himself. So Sanghoon mustered all the courage he had and approached his boss of one day.

“Sir, do you have a moment to speak?”

The man wore the finest bespoke suit made by the best tailor in Seoul, as well as a pair of the shiniest oxford shoes Sanghoon had ever seen. His watch was a Swiss import and his tie was made of the finest Chinese silk. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his skin glowed with youthful exuberance. There was a woman standing just behind him. She too, was dressed lavishly. Her platinum blonde hair fell in delicate waves to her shoulders, and her slinky cream dress made her look ethereal. The whole image was offset by the necklace of rubies she wore. They were so red it appeared that her throat had been slit. Her cat-like eyes seemed to take in everything around her, but when they fixed on Sanghoon and her lips curled into a Cheshire grin, Sanghoon felt a single bead of sweat roll down his back.

Sanghoon shouldn’t have been afraid, but he was.

“Ah, Sanghoon,” The man’s voice was honeyed and calm, and put Sanghoon at ease. “I was just about to call for you. What would you like to speak about?”

“W-well sir, it’s just, I don’t know if I am a good fit for this job,” Sanghoon stuttered, trying and failing to keep his own voice calm. The man raised an perfectly manicure eyebrow at him.

“Please, tell me Sanghoon; what seems to be the problem?”

“I was s-shot at yesterday, sir.”

“Oh, that?” The man waved away the statement as if it were made of air. “Sanghoon, let me introduce you to my friend. Her name is Jiyeon.” The woman’s grin grew as the man pat her hand lightly, almost as if she were an actual cat.

“Sir?”

“Jiyeon is my best friend,” the man continued, his eyes never leaving Sanghoon’s face. “Do you know why she is my best friend, Sanghoon?”

“N-no, sir,” Sanghoon replied, unsure of where this line of conversation was going. He had a bad feeling stirring in his stomach. The man, as if sensing his discomfort, tapped Jiyeon’s hand once, and the woman walked forward, drawing much closer to Sanghoon than he would have liked. She walked around him as if her were a museum display, her eyes searching, probing every inch of his body. He suppressed a shiver of fear.