Sasha shrugged, his tone casual. "I pulled it from the conductor's office. There was surveillance footage of Namjoon boarding the train. I used the timestamps to narrow down his movements and tracked the frequency on his comm device. That's how I got the location."
Beom's jaw dropped. "Wait—so you're telling me you've known where he is this whole time, and you didn't think to tell me until now?"
Sasha smirked again. "I wasn't sure if the signal was legit at first. Didn't want to send you on a wild goose chase while you were still recovering. Plus," he added with a pointed look, "you were more concerned about chasing shadows than listening to me."
Beom bristled at the jab, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the tracker in his hands. The red dot blinked steadily, each pulse sending a surge of adrenaline through him. Namjoon was close—closer than he'd expected. This is it. Finally, a lead. But then another thought struck him, and his excitement dimmed.
"What about the guy who attacked me?" Beom asked, his voice quieter now. His mind flashed back to the moment on the train—the man's face, the gunshot, the overwhelming sense of danger. "You said Namjoon isn't the one who attacked me. So who was it? And why are they after me?"
Sasha's expression turned serious, his smirk fading. "That's what I'm trying to figure out," he admitted. "The guy who attacked you wasn't just some random thug. He was trained. Whoever sent him wanted you out of the picture, and that means Namjoon isn't the only player in this game."
Beom's stomach twisted at the implication. More enemies. Great. He looked back at the tracker, his mind racing. If Namjoon's not the one pulling the strings, then who is? And why target me specifically? The pieces weren't adding up, and it was driving him crazy.
"And another thing," Beom said, glancing at Sasha. "When I collapsed, I saw someone—blonde hair. I thought it was you at first, but now I'm not so sure."
Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Blonde hair?" He leaned back in his seat, his expression contemplative. "That could mean a lot of things. Are you sure it wasn't just your mind playing tricks on you?"
"I'm sure," Beom said firmly. "It wasn't a trick. Someone was there, and they looked… familiar." His voice trailed off as he tried to piece together the fleeting image in his mind. Who was it? Why did they feel so familiar?
Sasha didn't respond immediately, but Beom could see the gears turning in his head. Finally, Sasha said, "Whoever it was, we'll figure it out. For now, focus on Namjoon. He's the key to unraveling this whole mess."
Beom nodded, though unease still lingered in his chest. He looked down at the tracker again, the blinking red dot holding his gaze. Namjoon… what are you hiding? Whatever the answer was, Beom knew one thing for sure: he wasn't stopping until he found out.
Beom blinked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Sasha, who was grinning far too smugly for his liking. The throbbing in his head was still there, but at least it wasn't as bad as earlier. Rubbing the bandage wrapped around his head, Beom tilted his head slightly.
"Wait… hold on," he said, pointing at Sasha. "Who did this bandage?"
Sasha puffed out his chest dramatically, as if he were accepting an award. "It was moi, of course. You're welcome, by the way."
Beom frowned. "Moi? Don't 'moi' me. What do you even know about first aid?"
Sasha waved his hand dismissively, clearly unbothered by Beom's skepticism. "Oh, please. I'm a man of many talents. Bandaging wounds is just one of them."
Beom raised an eyebrow, his skepticism deepening. "Right. And by many talents, you mean making a mess of things and nearly getting us killed?"
Sasha placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "You wound me, Beom. Do you really think so little of me?"
"Yes," Beom said bluntly.
Sasha chuckled and leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. "Anyway, I didn't stop at just patching you up. I even gave you a little massage while you were out."
Beom froze, his eyes narrowing. "A… massage?"
"Yeah, a small one. You know, just to help you relax," Sasha said, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant.
Beom's mind went into overdrive. A massage? While I was unconscious? What the hell does he mean by that? He stared at Sasha, a sense of dread creeping in. "Define small, Sasha. What do you mean by 'a small massage'?"
Before Sasha could answer, he leaned over and casually placed his hand on Beom's chest, giving it a light squeeze.
Beom's brain short-circuited. His entire body stiffened as his jaw dropped in utter disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled, slapping Sasha's hand away and following it up with a sharp smack to Sasha's face.
Sasha burst out laughing, clutching his cheek where Beom had hit him. "Oh, come on! Don't be so dramatic, Beom. It was just a little joke."
"A joke?" Beom said, his voice rising with outrage. "You call groping me a joke? Are you out of your damn mind?"
Sasha shrugged, his laughter subsiding into a mischievous grin. "Relax, Beom. You're overreacting. I was just checking if you're still sensitive after all that blood loss."
Beom glared at him, his thoughts spiraling into a storm of frustration and sarcasm. Sensitive? Sensitive? The only thing I'm sensitive to is the overwhelming urge to strangle this idiot.
"It's not funny, Sasha," Beom snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're lucky I don't press charges for harassment."
"Harassment?" Sasha repeated, laughing again. "You're adorable when you're mad, you know that?"
Beom's glare intensified. "Keep talking, and I'll show you just how adorable my fist looks up close."
Sasha raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll behave. But you can't deny I've got a good sense of humor."
Beom scoffed. "If by 'good sense of humor,' you mean being a perverted pain in the ass, then sure. Gold star for you."
Sasha chuckled, clearly unbothered by Beom's insults. Beom, on the other hand, felt like he was seconds away from exploding. Why am I even stuck with this guy? he thought. He's like a toddler with the brain of a troll and the maturity of a fruit fly.
As Sasha leaned back with a satisfied grin, Beom rubbed his temples, praying for patience. "You're impossible," he muttered.
"And yet, you'd be lost without me," Sasha replied smugly.
Beom groaned, resisting the urge to throw something at him. "If you don't start acting like a normal human being, I'm going to lose my mind."
"Too late for that," Sasha teased, his grin widening.
Beom shot him a withering glare. If I survive this mission without strangling him, it'll be a miracle.
Beom froze mid-thought when Sasha leaned back with a smug grin, his next words hitting like a curveball Beom wasn't prepared for.
"Not gonna lie, Aaliyah really looked happy after you gave her a little taste of your pecker," Sasha said casually, his tone so nonchalant it might as well have been a weather update.
Beom nearly choked on air. His eyes widened, his hand clutching his chest as if Sasha's words had physically stabbed him. "Which Aaliyah—" he started, then his memory jogged back to earlier events. "Ohhhhhh," Beom groaned, dragging out the syllable as it all clicked.
Sasha grinned, clearly enjoying the memory. "Yep, that Aaliyah. The one with those killer curves and that devilish smile. She said she really enjoyed herself, by the way. Hopes to see you again sometime."
Beom felt a blush creeping up his neck, which only annoyed him further. "She said that?" he asked, more out of reflex than actual curiosity.
"Yeah, she practically floated out of the room on cloud nine," Sasha added, laughing.
Beom shook his head, his irritation mounting. "But seriously, Sasha, why the hell did you even come up with that whole threesome idea? I mean, who does that?"
Sasha raised an eyebrow, leaning back as if he were about to deliver a life-changing philosophy. "Well, you said you liked women with nice curves and flawless skin. I figured, hey, why not give you the full experience? It looked like you were lacking something."
Beom stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. "Lacking what exactly?"
Sasha smirked. "Vitamin S."
"Vitamin S?" Beom repeated, his tone flat as he processed Sasha's ridiculous response. "What in the holy hell is Vitamin S?"
Sasha spread his arms like he was unveiling a grand secret. "Sex, Beom. You needed sex. You were walking around like some deprived monk who hasn't seen action in years."
Beom clenched his jaw, his face now hot with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. "Okay, first of all, I don't need Vitamin S—whatever the hell that means. Secondly, just because you're trying to hit 50-plus body counts doesn't mean I am!"
Sasha gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if Beom's words had mortally wounded him. "50-plus? Oh, please, you're insulting me. I'm well beyond that!"
"Exactly my point, you manwhore!" Beom shot back, crossing his arms.
Sasha just laughed, clearly enjoying every second of Beom's frustration. "Come on, Beom, don't be so uptight. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
Beom groaned, his hand flying to his face. Why am I even having this conversation right now? "That's not the point, Sasha," he muttered.
Sasha leaned closer, his grin widening. "Oh, so you did enjoy it."
"I—what? No! That's not—" Beom spluttered, his face burning. "I mean… okay, maybe a little. But that's not the point!"
Sasha laughed harder, slapping his knee. "See? You're welcome, Beom. You can thank me later for spicing up your boring life."
Beom rolled his eyes so hard he swore he could see the back of his skull. "You're unbelievable, Sasha."
Sasha smirked. "And yet, you keep me around."
Beom glared at him, already plotting a way to change the subject. Why am I stuck with this guy? he thought. He's like a walking bad decision wrapped in charm and dipped in arrogance.
"Anyway," Sasha said, still grinning like he'd just handed out priceless advice. "Maybe next time you'll actually thank me for helping you out."
Beom shot him a look that said he was absolutely not going to thank him, not now, not ever. "Thank you?" he scoffed. "For dragging me into your wild 'adventures' and thinking you're my personal… 'sex life coach'? Please. I'll pass."
The loud beeping of the tracker filled the air, drawing both their gazes toward the glowing red dot on the screen. It had led them to a stop in front of a massive, shadowy mansion that loomed like something out of a horror movie. The tall iron gates were locked, and security cameras perched at every corner, swiveling ominously as if daring intruders to step closer.
Beom frowned, staring at the imposing structure ahead. His stomach churned with unease. This wasn't some small hideout; it was a fortress. "I guess we're here," he said flatly, his tone laced with reluctance as he turned to Sasha.
Sasha, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered—excited, even. "Then let's go find him!" he announced, already reaching for the car door like they were about to casually stroll into a coffee shop.
Beom grabbed his wrist, his eyes narrowing. "Are you insane?" he hissed. "Can't you see there are cameras everywhere?" He gestured wildly at the surveillance system, his voice rising with exasperation. "We have no weapons on us, no plan, and absolutely no way of getting in there without being spotted!"
Sasha blinked, looking entirely unfazed. "So?"
"So?" Beom repeated, incredulous. "So, we can't just waltz in there and scream, 'FUCK!' like everything's fine!" He ran a hand down his face, trying to stay calm. "Think, Sasha. Everything isn't a joke! Do you have a death wish or something?"
Sasha tilted his head, considering the question. Then, with a grin that oozed confidence, he said, "YESSS."
Beom gawked at him, speechless for a moment. "That wasn't a compliment, you idiot!" he finally snapped, throwing his hands in the air.
In his head, he was already cursing Sasha. Why am I even surprised? Of course, this idiot thinks he's invincible. He probably thinks he has nine lives like some stray cat. Hell, he's not even drunk, and he's still acting like a lunatic. At least when he's drunk, I have an excuse to write off his stupidity.
Sasha crossed his arms, clearly proud of his bold declaration. Beom stared at him, his irritation growing by the second. "I swear, you have zero sense of self-preservation," Beom muttered. "You act like you're in a damn action movie. Well, newsflash, Sasha—we're not."
Sasha shrugged, flashing a carefree grin. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh, I don't know," Beom said sarcastically, counting on his fingers. "We get caught on camera, someone recognizes us, alarms go off, armed guards show up, and we die. How's that for starters?"
Sasha waved him off like it was nothing. "Relax. You worry too much."
"Worry too much?" Beom echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to not worry when you're acting like a reckless moron?"
Sasha chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "You really need to loosen up, Beom. Life's more fun when you're not so uptight."
Beom glared at him, silently counting to ten to stop himself from strangling Sasha. Fun? He thinks this is fun? I'm about five seconds away from losing my mind, and he's acting like this is a field trip. If anyone dies here, it's going to be him—and it's going to be me who does it.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "Fine," Beom finally said, his tone low and controlled. "You want to go charging in there like some brainless action hero? Be my guest. But don't come crying to me when you get shot."
Sasha grinned. "Don't worry, I won't."
Beom sighed, leaning back in his seat. God help me. Why am I even here? Oh, right, because of Namjoon. I swear, when this is over, I'm taking a long vacation—without Sasha.