rolled random, 76 and 65 for the au mashup please!
Did They or Didn’t They? + It’s Not You, It’s Me, ooh what a mashup. Hmm, this is giving me vibes for something a little nefarious, a little supervillain-y. Viseul, perhaps? How about...
Kahei knows everything has gone terribly wrong when she bursts through the heavy oak double doors and sees blood and glass instead of smoke.
Son Hyeju, the youngest of her security team, slumps against a display case, pouring blood from a gash along her hairline. All around her, the late afternoon sun filtering through the windows of the hall shimmer off the edges of glass splintered around and under her in a cascade of brilliant rainbow fragments.
It's fairly clear where the glass came from; the glass case above her head is shattered, the plaque left to lie unceremoniously strewn over tiny shards left on the surface of the display.
The artifact cradle is empty.
And staring at her from the other side of the dais, scroll in hand, is Cho Haseul.
It takes Kahei a moment to understand what is happening. A moment she will later come to regret taking. A moment she prepares herself for in every future encounter, because she should have called for help immediately. Should have tackled Haseul to the ground right then and there when she was still taken by surprise. Should have, should have, should have.
"Haseul?" she asks, even though it's child's play at this point to put together what has happened here. She should have known to trust her gut when Haseul joined her museum staff team last month in a hiring spree after a string of thefts and something about her just felt Wrong. She should have known better than to believe that the fire alarm was genuine. She should have never left Hyeju to guard this wing alone.
Haseul—if that even is her real name—sighs. "All you had to do was play along, Kahei unnie. I didn't want to do this to Hyeju, and I don't want to do this to you either."
Kahei can see the slow rise and fall of Hyeju's chest as she breathes, blood sloping over her eyebrow ridge and staining her white shirt. God, she's just a kid.
"I shouldn't have trusted you."
Haseul smiles, but just the corner of her mouth, just enough to see her damned fang. "No, you really shouldn't have. But don't blame yourself, darling. It's not you, it's me, and all that jazz."
Kahei scowls.
"Much as I'd love to play these dramatic games with you though, I have a flight out of town in the next thirty minutes and," Haseul checks her watch lazily. "I'm going to be late, so I'm afraid I need to go."
Kahei takes a jerky step forward and Haseul shakes her head, glancing meaningfully at Hyeju. "I need to go, and she needs medical attention. I know how you work, Kahei. I know you take care of your own. In another life, I would have loved to work under you. Legitimately."
"Don't." Kahei grits her teeth, but Haseul is right. The scroll is recoverable. Hyeju, if things take a turn for the worse, isn't. She crunches glass underfoot as she pulls her phone from her pocket and begins to call for an ambulance.
She can hear Haseul walking away, can hear the fire exit doors creaking open, can hear the oppressive disappointment of the museum board members as she stands before them to answer for her failures.
"Kahei?"
She lifts her head. Haseul is silhouetted like this, jacket blowing gently in the breeze.
"See you soon."
The door closes, and the call connects.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
