Enigma || Park Jimin || [BTS Idol/Gang AU]

"Attention passengers, KTX-346 will arrive in ten minutes at platform no. 14. Please head to your station to get a ride-"

Jimin clutched the receipt in his hand and sat down on a bench. Sunlight was being cast as a lens flare from the jag of Namsan Tower in the mild distance, at the black rim sunglasses worn by the male. He waited, in the crowd of busy people while him being just one of them, the mask on his face, donned to appear as a random entity.

The train departed from the station taking its start, skittering pass the buildings to both sides now along the Wonhyo bridge. Jimin took his mask off, fished out his phone from his pocket. He checked his face for a mere second on the black screen, before unlocking it and going to the call section. He dialed a number. Jimin's soothing voice calmly put his hi first.

"You know Y/N, I have seen you like it has past hours already. Come out. There's no point of hiding in there."

Damn God good eyes of a muggle mob! His eyes dark and hidden under the shades followed the movements of the guilt. I cursed under my breath and with a sheepish face for a perfect predicament walked over to him swirling the phone in my hands in a damn-care gesture.

"Care to explain?" He ticked a brow. I forced a sweet smile, "It's not what you think. I wasn't following you."

"Then what is it?"

"You took the same train as mine," Perfect excuse, ain't it?, "I saw you in the compartment so I got curious."

"Doesn't exactly go with your continuous lurking session," The male glared, not exactly happy with the invasion of his privacy, "Truth."

Truth of what? That I was spying on him? The frown on his face seemed perennial, but his eyes seemed to be speaking something else.

"I am your manager you know."

"You are a manager assistant, not my bodyguard."

"A manager is a manager, a caretaker, and a bodyguard." I crossed my arms, "It's one of my duties to ensure that you are safe."

"Stop following me."

"Once done is done, there is no going back." I buried myself down to the vacant seat next to him, "Now where shall we land our bodies to?" He stifled a small laugh but remained impervious by face, continuing staring out the window.

"Busan."

Knew it.

We stood in front of a house. Resembling a country house infrastructure- a red tin roof over the stone wall, it was shadowed, comfy and dark wood. The deck was matted with a thick grassy carpet that rolled down to the last flight of staircase, splotched and faded barely noticeably at some places to palish mint. Vines wired around the banister in an array, down at the end of which a huge money plant in a tub stood. The windows were shuttered, sills spoke dust. Everything about it claimed to be rustic. Wondering who lived here, and why Jimin came to this place.

"It's my uncle's house." Jimin said, "You can come in." Two steps after on the brick road, he called, "Ahjussi, I am here."

On hearing his voice, a staid man, probably in his 50's, peeked his head out from the narrow doorway. Wrinkles formed on his forehead, a white fine line forming his small benign face which purchased a smile as he saw his guests, "Ah our Jimin-ah is here! I was expecting you for a long time."

I did my small introduction, "Hello, I am Y/N. Sorry that I interrupted your personal family time period."

"No no, get in. How have you all been?" His smiling face also welcomed me alongside with no question asked or marked through his expression, "You never remember to visit your uncle on any other days of the year except this one day, huh? Every time you come, you appear more different than before. You are getting more handsome."

"I don't mean to, but the schedules are so engaged-"

"I understand. I ain't complaining my child. Sit, sit."

"Where is Ahjumma?"

"She is not in town now. Went to visit her friends in the nearby."

"It ain't much, but I brought this for you." He extended his hand carrying the fruit basket, Mr. Park smiled gleefully, "Aigoo, why did you toil to bring this all along here?"

"Please take it." He took it from his hand and kept on the small table on the side.

"How is it going? I have read about your group in the news." He beamed next, "Your aunt never stops talking about you to her friends. You are making us so proud."

"It's going well." Jimin smiled nodding.

"Is the training too hard?"

"No, I am managing all well. Don't worry about me, Ahjussi."

"So, what are you thinking about doing in the future?"

"Things are going well so we will continue making more music, and our new album is in preparation-"

"Not that. I am talking about you know-" He shrugged, "How is it going?" While the last question, he looked at me. I was okay being the third wheel, but as the gaze was thrown so intently, I looked back in confusion, "Ye?"

"Is our Jimin treating you well?" I widened my eyes. "You two are dating, aren't you?"

I immediately denied as to reply, "NO. We are not dating." "I am his manager assistant," I added to the answer. Mr. Park shook his head like he got it, "Oh, I see. I thought- I am sorry."

"So..." Jimin stared at his uncle. Mr. Park protruded his lips lowering his head for once, to show reassurance, "Yes, I know. Don't worry. I have been protecting all of it very well."

He stood up and held out a key. Jimin took it from his hand, he moved a bit to the side to allow the male to enter the house, "Go in."

I was in a dilemma if I should follow him inside or not, curiosity was my trait, so unbothered, I did. Jimin did no complains, for once in lifetime he seemed like, he was allowing me to every step of his private life and him which he never did. The old wooden floor creaked a bit by our imposed weights, Jimin took a left turn in the corridor and pulled the door. It looked like a storage room. Immaculate and everything placed in their accurate places. He picked up a medium-sized metal box and brought it out. I peeked in from behind his shoulder.

What I had expected, there was nothing like that in there. They were all photo albums, envelops and papers, diaries and knick-knacks. A yellowish old picture was stuck onto one of the sides of the box, a father with his son. The father was smiling, the son was too. He had a chubby face, chubby cheeks, and his eyes were closed due to his smiling. Looked so familiar. Looked so...Jimin.

A sad smile crashed on the male's lips, he spoke, gloomy and all dusty.

"9th Anniversary, Dad."

"Your father..." I walked beside him in the garden, "I am sorry."

"Don't be." He spoke calmly, "There is nothing for you to be sorry about."

I said nothing back. He stopped his walk after a while, looking afar the blue yonder. Under the usual sunlight, the usual Jimin...looked so different. He didn't look sad anymore, or anything, a word not yet invented to describe that uttering gaze of his eyes. Tears not trickling, eyes not glistening, eyelids sharp and pupils undilated, I couldn't read him. He seemed to be talking his mind, his soul to the sunlight and the earth, six feet under where his only parent rested, eyes directed at the gravestone which had his father's name engraved. I had the same scene within my life, countries apart, but like how we all humans react differently to the same thing even though being the same species, it was seeable from the side of two of us. He was different than me. Stronger before scene and news of death than I was. His job must have made his stone-still.

"You wanna talk?" I felt like he did. More like I wanted him to talk.

He looked at me. For a moment, I sensed that heavy curtain layer hiding his persona shift, for a moment I thought I saw a glow of light, flickering out the small crevice. I felt, he wanted to speak out, himself, to me.

"You know, my dad," He paused second after second, as if hesitant if he should say anything further, "He used to work under a merchandising company..."

I sat, patiently waiting for him to speak up.

"He was murdered."

I stared appalled at his face, how callous and quick he accelerated to reveal the way of death of his father surprised me further. Cutting out the pauses and fillers, what he said was-

"He used to be at a low rank, but later unknowingly why he was granted a few quick promotions and taken to a high position. He should've known better, when he was framed for a fraud case of which he knew nothing about only then he knew what the higher-ups were planning onto. He tried to gather information to exonerate himself.

It was the first day of the month, the salary day. On returning home, he was attacked by a bunch of people on the street. He was badly injured. For the incident being near our house, I saw it from upstairs from my room, I came rushing and took on those a few people. Dad was sent off by an ambulance and the culprits to the police station. I had gone to give my witness. Later after I left, I saw I had left my stuff behind at the station so I went back. Then I saw-" His jaw clenched.

"The police officer in charge, he was talking to someone on the phone, a minute later when he was done, he released the criminals. He took money as a bribe just in front of my eyes and let them go. I fought with him, asked why he had done that. He was perturbed and replied to me harshly that he could do whatever he wanted. I called him a bastard, said I would complain to the authority, he held me inside the lockup for the night and seized my belongings."

"An officer did that?" I couldn't believe what he said, but I knew too within the walls of the uniforms, thousands of things happened which were worse than the crimes of the outside world.

He smirked at my comment and crossed his arms behind his neck, "My father needed medical care and things needed to be paid. I was held under custody, my phone was snatched. The clinic couldn't reach me on time." He paused,

"Dad died untreated."

Silence resonated. I didn't know what to say, whether to console him or just leave an 'I am sorry to hear that' to his words. Which one should be an accurate reply? Seeing his ins.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e blank face perceivable no drop of emotion on the field, it made me more dilemmatic in my place. I took his palm in my hand and squeezed it. He looked down.

"It's okay," I said. He looked up at me, gently brushed off my hand.

"It's not okay." He hissed, "Those guys are still out, the police couldn't catch him, didn't catch them. For them, my father died. I hate those people. I hate them!"

"Not every officer is the same."

"Everyone is same."

"You are blaming them, but you are not blaming those criminals who stabbed your father?" I calmed myself down. I shouldn't have talked like this about the incident to him.

"You don't know anything," He looked away, the ray of light sipping out his curtain seemed to fade, he was going back to his room, where he hid himself and his persona from me, from anyone else, "You don't know anything at all."

Psithurism dissembled his voice, the pine trees in the garden swung their large long leaves massively with the blow of air. What he mumbled next, I couldn't hear anything at all. He stood up, and walked. I followed him.

< < < < <

Dark summons dark. A black, powerless, silent night is always the pretext of everything dark.

Jimin walked down the vacant three-lane street. His shirt was one week dirty, his grubby handbag still had the transfer certificate, the death certificate of his father too, and a few old cash notes. He had been a goner, he took his life as void and restless. Street yellow lights stared at him, mocked at him, The traffic light blinked red to yellow to green to no car passing, and no one saw the boy crossing the road with perversity. His shaky hand was using up all the strength to hold the bottle intact within that left him as stupor. The world before him was so backward and wavering, he thought how similar it was to his current life. A sip of fire down his throat made him feel at ease.

Until the lane was not quiet anymore.

He heard a scream. A woman's.

For a split second, the daze before his eyes cleared off, his ears went sharper. He heard the shriek again, a high pitch voice that called, "Hel-" last part of which got muffled under some rattles and an angry man's grumble.

A teenager's mind is always curious, even if it's a restricted thing. Even though in a drunken state, that nature worked of Jimin as he found himself tiptoeing following the source's direction next, what he saw was what he had guessed.

The woman was lying unconscious. Least amount of clothes hugged her body, barely hiding her curves. She was layered with full enticing makeup. The man before him panted defending against earlier mounts of protest. Scratches and bruises all over his b.a.r.e arm and neck certified the amount of struggle he had faced. He growled "Aish!" and kicked her hip, which didn't arise a m.o.a.n of pain or anything from the woman's sleeping face. She appeared as dead. Was she?

"Hey, who's there!" A sudden torchlight flashed from the left side of the alley. The guy jolted up aghast, and another, the boy behind the wall.

"Who is there!" The question was parroted, and an officer in uniform pierced out from the dark approaching the scene.

"O-officer?" The guy stumbled took a few steps backward. The officer turned his torch around and on the unconscious woman next to him on the ground, his face moved up next with suspicion, "What happened? Who is she?" Soon he noticed the rod in the guy's hand.

"I can explain..." The guy tried to talk, the officer roared, "Step back!" His hand traveled to his back to chain out the revolver at the culprit.

"Officer, listen to me, she is just a p.r.o.s.t.i.t.u.t.e and she-"

"You're coming with me to the police station, son!"

"Listen to me." The guy stood back in defense, but he didn't seem too afraid of the appearance of the police out of nowhere, "We can deal with this in an easy way."

"What?" Officer was confused.

"You know, some dough can help anyone with their life." He fished out a wad of notes from his back pocket and waved at him. There was no expression on the officer's face.

"It's a **** ca-"

"I can double the amount." The guy brought out more fistfuls of cash, that now was a pile standing before the officer's eyes. Soon a smile tapped on his thin lips, "There's no surveillance camera at this site."

Guy sighed and scratched his neck, "Will you let it go then?"

Officer offered him a cigarette from his packet. Both lit up one and released smokes.

"I was gonna have some fun. Wanna join?" The smirk on officer's face was inevitably huge and evil. He laughed, "Well, I am off duty soon, so..."

Their two laughs resonated like werewolf cries from the waning alley. The woman's blank unconscious face still flawless, next day she was probably going to be dead or crying herself to commit suicide. Humanity cried in peace, humans void of altruism that was more of a presence in beasts than the best creatures on earth.

Jimin killed two men that night.