When she agreed to kneel, Lisa didn’t expect for the one thing she hated most to be lost: control. For years she’s been under oppression, men taking her helplessness for granted and taking over the one thing she had any authority over, which is herself. It’s the biggest part of why the woman holds animosity toward Kikwang. He could suck the control straight out of her without lifting a finger, just getting close enough to have that person relinquish the control over themselves, willingly or not. Imagine her surprise when he walked forward in order to do just that.
“Wait. No, what are you doin-” but there was nothing she could do once she slipped into that horrible forcefield of submission – she hated it with everything in her, but somehow it keeps happening to her. Fate has other plans with her it seems, seeing how she only wants to keep away from a man as dangerous and powerful as he, yet, she keeps ending up in front of him, dead by his own command – utterly dependent and paralyzed until he negates it.
All she could do is look to him for guidance, waiting for whatever command he has to offer. Her first instinct when he touched her was to rip her face away, but that was proven impossible considering she has no control over her own body, so she simply had to take it. Her beauty maybe was a waste. She could agree with such a thing. She had been a waste the moment she was taken away from the better life that she had known. Tainted, her mind rendered to a mess. She was nothing like what she was supposed to be. Nothing like how her parents meant to mold her, now she was indeed just a waste of a person. With no direction, no future. All she knows is this life of serving, of meaning nothing. Perhaps the strength she convinced herself that she had was a ruse. She knows first hand that hope is such a worthless thing to hold on to, so why did she become a victim to it again?
It’s just like Zenko. To admit truth to her, plant a revelation in her head that in the grand scheme of life, of the world. She was nothing. Or at least, she’d have more worth if she was less herself. Lisa didn’t believe in hope at all anymore.
When she was told to rise, every part of her being did so – she rose. Curiously, she wondered why must he do all this just to hand her necklace, and momentarily she figured a man with a power such as his only ever did things with such grandeur that it was exhausting. But, she quickly figured out he didn’t want to just hand over the necklace, he was putting it on her. She could only stand still as she felt the plush of his lips against her skin. Her body didn’t allow a shiver at the feeling of his breath, at odds with a quake at the rumble of his voice – but when he said to kneel, of course, she kneeled.
Internally, Lisa whined at the prospect of having to kneel for however long it takes for his power to wear off, but, if she could have jumped in fright she would have. Her ringtone was annoyingly loud, and blaring, and she figured that Kikwang would ignore it like a normal person. She must have forgotten that Kikwang doesn’t have a normal bone in his body. She recognized the ringtone, as soon as she heard it and was reminded about her life outside her freedom. She was already in trouble back at the brothel, for having not been returning their phone calls right before she arrived at Kikwang’s but she fully intended to be there and out before they could come find her and drag her back, spitting words at her with a punishment sure to follow. But, Kikwang lives to make her life more difficult she supposed, because she was handing her phone over without hesitation when he asked.
She knows it was Haejoon calling her. He was like a disciplinary so that the big boss doesn’t have to waste time in meaningless squabbles such as where the girls are when they are let loose, but by no means is he merciful. He was given permission to punish them all in any way he sees fit when they are out of line, and it’s as if he has no self control, no compass when it comes to morals. Lisa hates him, more than she felt she was capable of. His heart was completely black, she was sure of it. And if he was anything in this world, he was territorial. He had this stigma that Lisa belonged to him.
She doesn’t know when the infatuation he had for her began, and in the beginning she figured it was a good thing to get in a man of power’s good side, but it was complete torture from day one. It ensured nothing but more strictness upon her than on any other girl, and she supposes that’s why tears began to leak down her face at Kikwang’s words. The male before her didn’t know how badly this would turn out for her because of his words alone. Haejoon wasn’t fond of her hearing that she belongs to anyone other than him. But he was much too cowardice to release his wrath upon the man who uttered the words. It would somehow be her fault, and she can only imagine how badly she was going to feel it this time.
It was odd. How Kikwang wanted nothing to do with her, claimed her to be a complete waste, yet he was willing to kill her oppressors in the name of owning her. When did he command ownership? She did not know, but he was crazy if he thought he would be able to kill Haejoon and his men – though, she knew better than to underestimate Zenko, for he was almighty and powerful. Maybe she just didn’t want to entertain the thought that maybe she didn’t want Kikwang to get hurt in the name of ‘protecting’ her (she uses that term very lightly) – it was shocking that he was capable of anything other than making others submit. She was conflicted by what he was displaying, however, it didn’t sway her anxiety.
For the entirety of the hour she was riddled with anxiety, wanting to fight the submission so that she could get up and get out of there because when Haejoon has to find her and get her, nothing good can come of it. He’ll be offended at her audacity, more sins to add to the list. The fact that he hadn’t called but once told Lisa that he was quickly on his way. Her heart quivered in her chest, she was scared beyond belief. She kept fighting to move until she could, and rose to her feet with anger on the tip of her tongue.
“Why the fuck would you do that, huh?! All of it! Why would you answer the phone?! Oh my fucking-” Lisa cut herself off, choosing instead to answer the vibration in her back pocket – a text that read: I’m outside. Her stomach dropped.
Suddenly that was much more important than telling Kikwang about himself. She had to go and she had to go right now, lest she want to suffer worse consequences if that was even possible. She bolted, heading straight out of the throne room, searching frantically for the front door, but his house was a maze, and going back out where she had come from had proven itself a journey, especially in her panicked state.
It can often be said that when one chooses to indulge in an activity they adore to the point of excess, the item will slowly but surely lose its saccharine flavour. Kikwang doesn’t know if this is true, or if it is simply an excuse that masks a deeper, more complicated reason, but all he knows is this: with every tick of the clock that he catches Lisa’s yielding form in his view—with every beat that marks the steady decline of his raging ire—Kikwang’s insufferable complacency quickly dwindles and it leaves, in its place, a papery texture on his tongue. Perhaps the unpleasant taste could be explained by the aforementioned reason provided previously, or perhaps it has little more to do with the fact that Kikwang has always viewed Miyako—no, Lisa—as being on par with him due to his understanding that she is and always will be his archnemesis of sorts, and so having her submit to him feels markedly misplaced. Or perhaps, beneath the appearance of gnashing teeth and annoyed growls, the leader finds himself growing oddly fond of the challenge she provides, and to have that all disappear is akin to the bittersweet ache of an ex-lover’s desertion.
All he knows is that every time he catches the sight of her knees sinking into the marble floor, or every time he holds her gaze only to find that her doe eyes are uncharacteristically absent of challenge, the heavy weight that sinks his heart tells him that this is all wrong. But sadly, Kikwang is a slave to his lack of will and excessive pride, and so he doesn’t command her to stand, even when he feels the slight—and thoroughly insufficient—urge to.
Thankfully, Kikwang is not one to dwell on matters of the bizarre heart—some would claim he is absent of one—so he doesn’t concern himself with attempting to place reason to this strange feeling. Instead, he does what he has always done whenever the ghost of Miyako had crawled from the depths of her confinement to challenge him: he hastily disregards it and instead, distracts himself with more pressing matters.
Such as the likely prospect of having to kill under his radius. Though Kikwang has no qualms with stealing one’s life, the act is never exciting due to the tremendous pain he feels following the death of an individual under his submission. Granted, the pain has been marginally decreasing with every death; but alas, so has his will. Kikwang knows from experience that he would require a sizeable number of deaths under his submission to fully deplete his will—and it is unlikely that the foolish men who has made the laughable decision of challenging him would be intelligent enough to bring an army—but nonetheless, every death brings him that much closer to the expiry of his own life, so as the domineering man appraises the tekko-kagi in his hands, he briefly contemplates if he should put it on or if he should let Lisa fend for herself. She is, after all, his worthy opponent; surely, a woman of her calibre would be able to deal with such pests before he can even blink.
He is enraptured by the scene that his imagination has conjured up, of her lithe figure standing against the multitude of barbarians, the sight of her bringing her dainty fingers down in a gesture for them to kneel, and they do so with little delay; but the picture lasts only briefly, for Lisa jolts up disruptively from where she kneels as vulgar words spill from her cherry lips. He is maddened by her complete lack of respect—she is truly a mystery, the display of her respect for him fluctuating with no logical explanation in sight—and has half the mind to leave her to deal with the dogs all by her lonesome; but then she unexpectedly halts in her tirade to glance at her mobile device, and Kikwang is perplexed by the unusual sight of her pretty features morphing into that of fear.
(The leader himself is not familiar with the sentiment, but he has struck fear into the hearts of countless of others to recognise the expression. But what confuses him is the fact that he, Zenko, fails to draw forth the emotion from Lisa, and yet a simple notification from the uncouth man—he suspects—successfully breaks her confident composure and leaves behind the meek girl he had encountered with all those years ago.)
He had always assumed that when he established the identity of his adversary, said individual would regard Kikwang as their archfoe too; because try as one might, it is undeniable that the leader is one of the most feared men on the planet, and so if he were to establish someone as his true enemy, it is not wrong to assume that said opponent’s greatest obstacle would be the wolf of Kyushu. Imagine his surprise when he finds out that Lisa does not view him as her most daunting opponent and instead, gives such a title to another. Needless to say, Kikwang is both angered by her audacity, as well as intrigued by the capability of the man he once believed bore little significance.
Lisa escapes from his throne room, but Kikwang raises his hand to halt his men from chasing after her, should they get presumptuous. He doesn’t issue his command just yet, for his mind is reeling from the aforementioned revelation, coupled by the fact that he is still deciding whether or not risking a portion of his will forever would be worth it. There are the unsurprising pros, one being if she truly worked for Dean and happens to be injured under his roof, Kikwang cannot be sure of the impulsive gang leader’s reaction. But above all other reasoning, one poses a stark contrast above the rest: if he were to hand Lisa over to the hands of the man who had been so ready to threaten her life—the man whose abilities Kikwang cannot help but puzzle over, judging from Lisa’s terrified expression—he is quite sure that she will die.
He bristles at the thought, because as he had told Tanaka and this unnamed competitor, Lisa’s life is his to terminate, and therefore, the entirety of her life belongs to him too. Kikwang supposes he would have to show this boor what happens when one attempts to steal what rightfully belongs to him, just as he had shown Tanaka all those years ago.
Without further ado, he slips his strong fingers into his tekko-kagi and rises from his seat, and he barks, “search every corner of this house for Lisa. Do not allow her to leave the premises without my say so.” He leaves his men with the task of finding her, and as for him, he will make good on the challenge he posed to the unpolished male.
(With the threatening glint of his tekko-kagi donning his right hand, Kikwang strikes a formidable figure that bears an uncanny resemblance to the man he once was.)
His men run off in every which direction and Kikwang is the last to exit the throne room, his black Oxfords striking determinedly against the floor with every purposeful step he makes towards the exit. With each step, his ire rises, but he is distracted by the slight movement he catches in his peripherals, and it prevents him from trailing past the point of no return. Kikwang halts in his steps as he peers curiously over to the entrance of the dark, wistfully neglected piano room, and were it any other time, he might’ve ignored it and continued on his warpath; but with the knowledge of Lisa hiding somewhere within the walls of this house, it does not take a genius to figure out the cause of said movement.
“You insult me by thinking you could ever hide from me. Do not play coy; you know me better than that, as I do you. Reveal yourself, Lisa,” he calls into the open room, but does not step any closer lest he unintentionally brings her under his submission. Kikwang cocks his head in curiosity as he tries to make sense of her uncharacteristic fear—first the look of horror, followed by her strange belief that she needs to hide—and after a beat of silence, he guesses, “if you are plagued by the murderous intent of the lout in your device, fear not: he will no longer pose a problem to you. The duration of his life has exceeded its expiry date, and I have chosen to do the honours of sending him to hell.”
And as if to clear any confusion she may have regarding his intentions, Kikwang brings his right hand—donned with his tekko-kagi—from his side and curls his fingers tightly around his left palm in front of him, the indestructible silver of the four, parallel knives gleaming menacingly in the harsh lighting of the hallway.
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