9.

Golfing was tiresome and unnecessary, Liu griped. Sure, the weather was nice on the golf course, and who didn't enjoy a little bit of sunshine every now and then, but that was all a result of Seoul being enclosed in artificial caprice, this superstrong polymer enclosure, and damn it all if that class act Soumin didn't act like he owned the whole world, Liu would be glad to show him the meaning of humility, and so on. Mao's face was zen, unperturbed and accommodating, twiddling his thumbs methodically and giving Lin and Vicious knowing looks every so often as they all endured Liu's rant.

And now they were indulging further in company expenses, not that Liu had a huge problem with that, as long as long as they weren't eating out of the Red Dragons' coffers, but still, what an unnecessary waste of time. Liu didn't dispute that Soumin Choe was probably the most powerful man in New Hangul, but that didn't mean that they had to willingly partake in this showcase of the man's extraordinary real estate holdings and endure all of his grandiose guffawing and hearty back slaps as if they were all old college buddies living up their undergraduate days.

Ironic, then, that Liu was the first one in the club, the first one through coat check, the first one to sit down next to Youngmin and the first one of their party to propose a toast to the future collaboration between the Choe Corporation and the Red Drag—Mao had to nudge him hard in the ribs before he choked and finished his toast,

"To the future of the Choe Corporation and Van and Qing!"

Youngmin took a drink right out of the bottle, Soumin laughed heartily, and slapped all the backs of those within his reach. Vicious was positioned strategically on the corner portion of their roundtable couch and managed to sink back far enough that his presence was as unnoticed as he'd want it to be.

But apparently, not as unnoticed as he could be.

Soumin got up at some point, a bit tipsily, presumably to talk to the manager of the club. When he came back he plunked himself down right next to Vicious, reaching for the bottle of Dom and filling both his and Vicious' glasses with pomp and circumstance.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked, and Vicious nodded ambivalently, staring at Soumin long enough just to let him know that he was not being outright ignored.

But Soumin wasn't fazed. "It's been a long journey to get to where we are. I'm sure that you'll appreciate your own journey through the Red Dr—excuse me, Van and Qing, in a few years." He gave Vicious a knowing look.

"Take Youngmin, for instance." The Choe patriarch pointed at his son, who was at the moment, ruffling Lin's hair and taking swigs out of Dom. "Rambunctious? Yes. Earnest? Quite. A hard worker. Never put him in charge of a project that he couldn't handle." He looked dark for a minute. "Some say that he doesn't deserve it. But let me tell you, if he were at a bank or any other MNC, his network and his personality would get him to the exact same place. So don't accuse me of keeping it within the family." Soumin looked disgusted as he finished off his Dom, and motioned to a waiter. "A handle of Remy XO," he commanded.

They were silent for a while. Vicious followed the line of Soumin's sight, which began at the end of the table, with Liu, who was in the middle of telling some story—over Mao, who had abandoned his tense, cold friendliness in favor of sinking comfortably into the couch's supple leather embrace—over to Youngmin, where it stayed. Youngmin was listening to Liu's story with rapt attention, his laughter unpretentious and genuine, eyes bright and clear even through the drink and the haze of the club. He looked young, much younger than his twenty-something years, almost childish in his eagerness and his sincerity. Vicious' own gaze drifted back to Soumin, the older man reminding him of Mao, right at the moment, of the protective nature of fathers.

Jaesung was at the bar a few feet away, flirting casually with a waitress, the lines of his body long and lean and relaxed, effortless.

"In fact," Soumin raised his hand to his chin, scratching absently, "you could accuse me of the opposite."

Vicious met Soumin's gaze with purpose, and held it without looking away, until the Remy XO arrived.

"You understand, of course." Soumin leaned back into the booth, fingers crossed, watching Vicious dispassionately, all paternal pretense gone.

Vicious raised his glass. "Of course." He drank everything in one breath, and put his glass out for more. Soumin smiled broadly, though didn't venture to clap him on the back. He announced loudly to the rest of the booth as he filled up the glass, "looks like even the quiet ones can put 'em away!"

Lin was drunk again, face flushed fluorescent pink, curse of his heritage, and spouting the same bullshit that he'd first let out a few days ago in the hotel room. He cornered Vicious in the bathroom as they were washing their hands. "What's going on with you these days?" he said. "The Elders should have known that Spike's the only one—the only one who can keep an eye on you."

"Don't talk about something you don't know," Vicious replied flatly, reaching for a paper towel.

Lin looked annoyed, but that might have just been the flush to his face. "Just remember to follow orders, damn it."

They were the only two in the bathroom besides the attendant, who didn't matter. Vicious pushed Lin into the wall, watching as the other man bounced off harmlessly, nursing his shoulder with a pained hiss. He stared at Vicious, incredulous.

"What the fuck."

Vicious left without dignifying him with a response. This place was stifling, suffocating, he needed to get outside. Outside past the confines of the building, the city, of the fucking dome.

He ran into someone in the hallway. "In a hurry?" Jaesung looked disheveled—his jet black hair was tousled, his pupils dilated and eyes hooded, cheeks flushed with color and mouth wet. His tongued flicked out, licking his lips, a momentary distraction of pink and flesh. There was something deliberately controlled about the movement.

Vicious found that his throat was dry when he replied, "I'm sorry."

"I'll call you later," Jaesung said easily, taking a step back. Vicious felt the space between them keenly, and forced himself not to think anything of it. "I'll be having a few visitors later—I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

Vicious wasn't sure what he said in return, of if he said anything in return, but walked out without looking back.