Being a transporter has it perks from time to time. For instance, youâre only in charge of driving; dropping fellow comrades off or picking them up from somewhere. And when things get a little exciting, you get to outwit the police on the streets of Seoul. Youâre far from danger and you have the highest chance of escaping. Other than that, youâd also get to learn a fewâŠskills.
And remembering how his fellow members did it, Soohyun blended in with the crowd. Eyes surveying the area for someone who was alone, weak and not observant of their surroundings; someone who would make an easy target for him.
There wasnât any real purpose for doing this honestly. Soohyun simply wanted to test his abilities on whether he was capable of doing something more up close and personal, a total contrast of what he usually does. Dark brown eyes settled upon a woman who looked like she was in her late twenties or was she in her early thirties? Soohyun wasnât sure but he continued monitoring the female, eyes scanning up and down as he tried to decide whether she would make it easy for him.
The latter was alone, and with her, she had a hand full of grocery bags which deemed her officially simple to be mugged. And feeling confident, Soohyun crossed the road, placing himself vertically behind the woman. He wasnât near to her as he kept his distance as there were too many people and the male didnât want to draw in too much unwanted attention.
He would let this play out naturally, and when the time is right, he would get behind her and strike.
An empty fridge, a stalling engine, and a pair of sore feet. This was the recipe for Ming Mingâs dreadful trip to the store. For a journey ventured completely by foot during the summer day, she shouldâve known better than to buy more than the bare essentials. Even a few packs of ramyeon would have sufficed until she visited her usual mechanic the next day. But of course, Ming Ming overestimated her own abilities.Â
At every intersection she had to set down her bags. The wait for the green light to cross the street stretched on long enough that she took advantage of this to take a resting break. Â The more she walked the more she looked forward to these breaks. Whenever she placed the bags down, sheâd examine the red rings on her arms. The bags dug deep into her flesh like they were searching for bone. Holding all of them by hand strained her fingers so of course the next best thing was to hold them on her forearms.Â
Police academy branded her too weak to join the force and that stamp across her forehead still held true to today. Nothing but sheer stubbornness pushed her forward despite her worn out muscles. As determined as she was, it still baffled her that nobody who saw her struggle with her groceries offered to lend a hand. Sure, Good Samaritans were hard to come by in big cities where every soul lived in isolation from each other, but she still had hope someone would be big enough to offer to take these bags off her hands.Â
Ming Ming assumed a man who wore a name like Judas mustâve had an appearance as daunting as his name. However when they got close enough to see eye to eye, she couldnât shake the feeling a feeling of familiarity. Perhaps that was the most chilling part of it all. He couldâve been her neighbor, dentist, co-worker-- Literally any role that she came into contact into and actually trusted. A Judas who appeared so normal that she couldâve passed him at any point in her life and never knew of the lethality that hid behind his facade.
He posed a question as a safety precaution and she answered with a nod. She had no reason to lie to him but even she knew liars would have no reason to tell the truth. At the same time as strangers immersed in a world focused on profit and self-preservation, he didnât have any reason to trust her either.
âMy life is in your organizationâs hands. It wouldnât be in my best interest to do anything other than honest to you.â He wanted the truth and that was it. In its most unadulterated form, she laid out her situation to him. She was not clever enough to pull the wool over the whole gangâs eyes when they were the only force capable of keeping herself and Ni Ni alive. Above it all, she was not gutsy enough to gamble with Ni Niâs life.Â
âIf my suspicions check out and there is indeed a mole in the system, we let the police handle it. First, we make it look like the mole was being careless and gave his cover away.â Which was technically true. âFrom there, we set the bread crumbs for the police to trail. Let them take the credit for sniffing out the mole. Thereâs no need to risk drawing the heat onto you guys, when we can just... Divert attention... Onto the... S--SPD.â
His focus shot off in a different direction long before she even started her response. She didnât notice the increase in tension in his face until she reached the end of her thought. It was distracting to say at the least. Her head whipped from one side to another, searching closely for the source of the sight she was supposed to catch.Â
No car entered in. No car meant no people unless they were already inside. That couldnât have been the case if Judas said the coast was clear.Â
 âI--â The soft crunch of loose gravel being stepped on commanded her attention. âDid you hear that?â
the air in seoul was swelling hot and humid, subtle with the scent of smog in the air as the roads were scarce with vehicles. this was nothing new to minseok as heâd been in this very spot times before, but never for any reason other than to drive home. it started with a text, then a phone call and next thing you know, the officer is agreeing to meet up with mingming to discuss some information sheâd acquired (crucial details even he was unaware of). the officer had no real information other than what was given to him via the call, but he had a plethora of questions regarding the importance of his knowledge to her. if anything, this could all be built upon suspicions of his background (inability to commit to one job, having a degree that didnât pertain to his job description, or even behavioral aspects) that sent of alarms in the assumption that this person was an implant whose job was to find some way into the police department, working undercover.
the irony of the situation was that minseok knew all about it. his own experience dealing with the cases around time while maintaining his loyalty to wolfsbane was a huge conflict of interest that would certainly put him behind bars or end in his death. it was a risk he was willing to take. chaeyoung was the sole handler of the knowledge of his affiliation to the department and if anyone was more suited for this favor, it would be him. if not for the coincidental reasoning, then for his ability to gain and distribute knowledge of any of his citizens. in the end, this would benefit him more than it would to her.
a quick glance to his phone told him that it was nearing on the top of the hourâthe time theyâd agreed to meet and the officer was becoming impatient. heâd already circled around the lot at least three times, checking to make sure no one else was around for fear of leaking any information. there was never any guarantee that you could be truly alone at any given moment, especially in public. he draws his phone out to call the female back, giving her the âokâ to enter at anytime, âhey, this is judas. the coast is all clear here.â
âGive me ten minutes.âÂ
She exited from the parking lot of a restaurant a few blocks from the meeting spot. In her head she rehearses her alibi should anything goes wrong. She went to the restaurant, but the parking was too filled so she had to find a spot in the garage instead. The black box in her car would record that much and boost her claims. The manila folder remained clamped under her arm, presses closely against her side. The files within had to either be with her or in the hands of the intelligence gatherer. Anything else in between placed her neck in a compromising position, which was something she couldnât risk after planning everything else.
She had an alibi for herself. She chose the place. Somewhere secluded, somewhere far underground enough to disrupt GPS trackers.Â
( The only variable left was Judas. )
She heard the name bounce from one mouth to another. All of the praises failed to relieve her of the built up anxiety over trusting him. The fewer people who knew her position and her name, the better. A person who wore an alias like a threatening self-fulling prophecy was about to see her face to face in less than five minutes. She only hoped  her life wouldnât be traded for thirty pieces of silver down the line.
The clock hand on her watch ticked closer to the twelve on top. Status checks ran through her head on a loop.
Car: parked.
Files: in hand.
Position: 2nd level of the garage.
Call: In Progress.
âIâm here.â She craned her neck to look around for more details. âIâm standing by a column. Row D. Itâs pretty empty. It shouldnât be hard to spot me.â A wide space like this and she was just out in the open with crucial information on her. If Judas could easily spot her, anybody else could. âH...â The word âhurryâ didnât quite fall out even though the simple echos of water trickles and light flickers scared her.Â
âYou think that they would let it go, though.â The words escape her with an immediacy, indifference some unanticipated emergence. Realism settles like a bitter ale whose toxin nullifies the sensitivity of a tongue dubbed empathy; a tongue too long lacerated and within the hollowness of metaphorical cuts lay intoxication, some inebriation that swayed her to an identifiable pause, ocular diligence depicted in a chase of cumulus overhead. âYour clients, those people,â clarification leaves her as some absentminded murmur, âyou think that when they are left behind by the dead, they would accept that they are left behind and so, leave them as well. I can understand the sanctity of memories but I donât understand the blur between remembrance and memories, if that makes any sense at all. I think you can keep something in your heart, thatâs remembrance; memories are the moments in which we verify whether or not âtheyâ are still present within us.â Another cessation, one whose silence is interrupted by a tender exhale, some alleviation for the figurative burden of sudden weight she further dismisses with bodily readjustments. âI cut open bodies every day; I feel death. There is nothing there, nothing beating. I donât understand the attachment when youâre attaching yourself to metaphysical concepts like souls and minds â why worry of something we do not even know is there? If I die, love; donât torture yourself with memories. Just remember me; remember I was yours, had always been yours, and cling to that. Do not reminisce and do not relive, I wonât come back and in your heart, you will know that. Be happy and be peaceful⊠donât ruin yourself and become just another, walking corpse.â
Silence, again.
âIâm still up for lunch.â Clarification softened per the mercy of a smiling countenance, tender lips place an even gentler kiss upon the flesh of the otherâs cheek, elbow prodding its way into her side as she laughingly adds: âWhile Iâm living. I didnât have a place in mind to eat, because I always choose the same restaurant and I think we both could benefit from a little diversity every now and again, so you choose; Iâm up for whatever you are.â
Thereâs a fondness Ming Ming has for the way Ni Niâs mind forms connections between things and expresses them. Listening to her speak comes with no obligations to heal or correct. Ming Ming can just revel in the inner workings of Ni Niâs thoughts and allow herself to get lost in them if she chooses to. âLove is a mystifying thing. It makes people do nonsensical things. The emptiness makes us think of when we were last filled with happiness and cling to those memories. Itâs a selfish thing to want to keep holding on at the cost of oneâs health, but it happens.â The talk of emptiness is reflected in her own emotions. Somewhere down the line she became so attached to the thought of her as the first one to go that this contradiction startles her. She reaches out to thread her fingers between Ni Niâs. âI canât make any promises right now. That future is too far away for me to say anything with confidence.âÂ
She stands shortly after, tugging lightly for Ni Ni to follow her. Maybe placing some physical distance between them and this place where death hangs in the air will help them distance themselves from the topic as well. âA change of pace wouldnât be so bad, I guess. Are you in the mood for Japanese?â She asks anyway out of habit despite Ni Ni giving her freedom to choose for the both of them. âI heard of this new ramen house that sounds pleasant enough.â
âyouâre most welcome,â a song to the every lovely you (a self reminder as well)
cry until your makeup runs; cry until the pains are all goneâ dawn still hasnât arrive, the night is still long. donât feel embarrassed, I will dim the lights so let all your emotions go. If something is clogged in your brain and you canât figure it out, stop thinking for now. Donât be so urgent to find a solution (to everything). For tonight, the world canât do anything to you (everythingâs okay); I have your back. Embraces or words of comfortâ donât be polite with me because Iâll always have an unlimited amount reserved for you. Let me accompany you to cry, to sigh. After we break/grief, we will become stronger. To listen attentively or to protect youâ donât be polite me because I can support/be by your side as long as you need until youâre happy again. Regardless how heavy the rain is, it will eventually stop; the clouds will clear, the wind will become soft breezes. There will always be hardships in life and itâs excepted that we will get hurt at times. But please, remember you are never alone because you can always find my/someoneâs shoulder (to lean on).
There is light her eyes observe and it is unavoidable, like the aforesaid ocean now reflected a skyward brilliance; captured it and translated it into the euphony that was her voice. âI can understand that. I think I was joking, though I was partially serious. For me, I donât know. I worry about what people think, maybe more than I should.â The attentiveness some personal observation had demanded suddenly dissipates and a gaze is free to wander an unoccupied expanse of azure, mulling until she comprehends her own sentiment enough to articulate. âSeeing dead bodies every day makes me that way, I think. Not that the death has an affect on me, more so, what comes before the death. The corpses, they reflect their quality of life. I think that if the mind or the soul dies, if either of them are actually real, they would reflect that too, but with the figurative bruises we leave on others and on ourselves.â She sighs, nonsensical and embarrassed. âI guess I just want people to regard me fondly. Itâs innocent in theory but in practice.. itâs pretty taxing.â
The slop of her shoulders elevate and when they descend, the topic collapses along with. âYouâre right. I didnât think to speak more because while urine and water sort of tie into one another, I just didnât think it was a flattering conversation topic.â She nudges the other with her elbow softly, head reclining upon her shoulder. âI donât know what you mean, by the way. What is full of life? Like a lot going on? Iâm lost.â
Though originating from the same source of a simple joke with a morsel of serious intent behind it, Ming Mingâs stream of though veers off in a tangent. Her mind is an over used trap thatâs set off by a feather touch. She listens to what people think on a daily basis, yet the gap between what they think and what they do still embeds a fear into her more often than she likes to admit. Thereâs only so much psychology can theorize as a way to exert control in these grey areas, but the jump from potential to action always exceeds meager facades of control. Ming Ming tunes out of her mind, a channel with too much constant static, and focuses back on Ni Ni. âItâs what you do when youâre not trying to win people over that sticks with people the most. Weâre backwards creatures like that.â
Her head rests softly upon the otherâs. The act brings her the same joy and relief when one places the last puzzle piece into its rightful spot and completing the image. Air enters and leaves her lungs in an easier, more calming manner. âIâm not bothered by it, donât worry,â she reassures. The sense of decorum, or lack thereof, isnât something that usually perturbs her. âMy day. --Particularly my job.â A sigh. âItâs not lively per se, but thereâs a lot of contact with the living. Nothingâs more draining than facing all the grief and trauma that the living try to cope with when theyâre left behind by the dead. I donât know if that made things any clearer for you. Iâm sorry. Are you still up for lunch?â
LEADER OF VIOLENT CRIME SYNDICATE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY
Words that might as well force your finger to drive the bullet through your skull.Â
A snake without a head cannot see itself, let alone look out for itself,Â
let alone look out for you.
A snake without a body can still bite and defend itself from approaching danger,
but can it defend you? Will it?
The animalistic instincts that govern their realm underlies yours as well.
A flock stays loyal and steady but when the leader gets weak, another will replace their spot.
A lionâs pride cannot be without its king.
The alpha has been captured...
You fear the next to take the throne might not be as benevolent as the last.
The fear sticks with you as you watch the news,
whispering of potential prophecies detailing of your imminent death.
Jung Joonyoung.
It was Jung Joonyoung.
Three words that sound like salvation to you.Â
The pack ( your lifeline ) is intact and untouched.Â
The news hammers in the belief that
you soil and stain your hands for the right team.Â
Relief, pride, joy.
The emotions donât come in waves but like buckshot from a shell
striking you all at once.
Blessed be the one who gets to celebrate twice
for the double life theyâre leading.
You sit and count your blessings
because you get to live another day.
âDo you ever worry about what people must think of you when you outside, alone on a bench like this?â Her words are gentle, like waves crashing against shore with laps of foam she otherwise actualized in the bubble of delicate laughter unavoidable in the warmth of her own, personal sun. âI brought you something. Itâs water.â As she speaks, she sits besides her, hands reaching into a totted purse to withdraw an aforementioned bottle she then hands to her. âI probably should have asked, but I thought that it was a little hot today and I wanted to make sure you had something. Terminal dehydration is actually awful.â She uncaps a bottle of her own, placed to her lip for a soft sip before continuing her speech. âIt starts with hypothalamus gland basically detecting the lack of water in our bodies which initiates the release of a hormone that basically tells the kidneys to remove less water from the blood which causes us to ââ she pauses, shrugging. âNevermind, but how are you? How was your day?â Her hand reaches for its companion, fingers intertwining absentmindedly. âMine was long, boring, and full of death. Much like life, in a bleak sort of way.â
A valid question. One to which Ming Ming has a response to. Question and answer go hand in hand, and when Ni Ni sits beside her, she dotes on that same type of harmony between the two of them. âNot really,â she says. Her small pout turns into a smile without her meaning it to. âIf they donât know the reason why Iâm waiting on this bench then I donât pay their wrong conceptions any mind.âÂ
People pay her to listen to them talk more or less, but she would actually pay to hear Ni Ni talk and verbalize all of her thoughts-- Even ones as morose as death by dehydration-- in such a gentle manner. âNo continue. Does the body overcompensate and in turn hurry along the process of dying? Iâm assuming anyway. I donât remember much from biology but I do remember that the body is a self-governing entity trying to get itself to homeostasis.â The inner workings of the human body and the human mind arenât so different in that aspect. âIâm doing well. My day was full of life but a little too much life if you get what Iâm saying.â
The coronerâs office was barren of loud chatter and frequent visits of co-workers coming and going like most other places of the department. Death had that effect on people. It took people with a certain type of caliber to accept the ugly nature of life after death. Strength also came into play for those who can stomach it on a daily basis. She was used to sitting on the bench far away from the morgue of bodies since she considered herself as someone with a weak constitution. The day had been too long and fatigue seeped through her bones. She needed something to replenish her energy. She needed a piece of home.
You are given a young girl, who is a witness to a very violent crime. When persuaded to give her side of the story, she often panics and goes into hystericsâand its hard for anyone to get a word of the incident out from behind her tears. Using your credentials, knowledge, and your skill, please console the child and get the information on the crime she had witnessed. Any information counts, but please be wary of the mental health of your client. If pressured too hard, she may break. Best of luck to you, and please be careful.
P R E - S E S S I O N
Ming Mingâs pen glides across the page down each tunnel of white space between the printed ink. Key words are circled with her pen-- She forgets that this is an official legal document and not a normal file where she has license to mark up as she pleases. Yet even when she does remember, she continues to strike out a whole sentence.Â
âThey interrogated her before a therapeutic assessment?â She asks emptily, not expecting anybody to give her the answer. The answer is already staring at her in the face underneath the bars she drew. The questions they asked the little girl doesnât surprise her. The fact that the girl reacted the way she did after being triggered by such questions doesnât surprise her either.Â
She immediately scribbles her signature on the bottom line. ( A signed promise to take of the child. ) She closes the folder and looks up. âIs she in the building right now? Can I see her?â
Zhao Ming Ming (appointed psychiatrist) enters in, escorted by Zhang Yixing (inspector). Byun Jimin (witness), sitting on the couch, starts fidgeting.Â
Ming Ming. Hi there. Can I sit and talk with you for a minute?
Ming Ming is waving to Jimin who is unresponsive at first but eventually nods after a few seconds.
Ming Ming. My name is Ming Ming. Itâs nice to meet you. Whatâs your name?
Jimin. Byun Jimin.
Ming Ming. Byun Jimin?
Jimin nods.
Ming Ming. Would you like some toys right now, Jimin?
Jimin. No.
Ming Ming. You donât have to speak if you donât want to. Iâll stick to yes or no questions for you. Do you like to draw?Â
Jimin nods again.
Ming Ming. I had a feeling that you were an artist. I could tell right when I came in here.
Jimin swings her feet.
Ming Ming. If I told you that every week, youâd be allowed to come see me for a day and you can just hang out and draw, would you be okay with that? You donât have to come in here or the other room you were in before. Youâll come to my office. Donât tell anyone but I have lots of flowers there. Iâll give you one.
Jimin nods.
[...]
S E S S I O N Â O1
Several boxes of markers, crayons, and colored pencils are carefully placed out on Ming Ming desk to await Jiminâs arrival. She still doesnât like the way the transcript read. It shocks her how a few words can confine so much significant elements into a few actions and lines of dialogue. The transcript strips away how just the presence of a stranger in the room frightened Jimin into curling up into a ball, and how crying left her voice incredibly strained. Yet she still tried to answer Ming Mingâs questions because the people before Ming Ming tried to coerce Jimin to talk as much as possible.Â
A knock prompted her to get right up and answer the door.Â
âHi. Iâm Jiminâs aunt. Are you the psychiatrist?â
Ming Mingâs head bobs slowly; her smile barely hangs on her face. Jiminâs eyes are rimmed with a deep red, the same as when they first saw each other.
âThe service was earlier this morning. Sheâs been having a hard time,â the aunt explains.
A double homicide of oneâs parents. Who wouldnât be having a hard time, let alone a six year old?Â
âIâll take care of her. Jiminâs in a safe place right now. Weâre going to just relax and get to know each other before you come to pick her up,â Ming Ming smiles more earnestly now. Itâs an effort more for the little girlâs sake than the auntâs.
The aunt lets go of Jiminâs hands and waves to her before she closes the door behind her. The sound of the door closing sets off a chain reaction. Emotions pour out of Jimin as she wails and runs towards the door.Â
Ming Ming takes off after her, worried that Jimin might get out and get lose within the rest of the department. âJimin,â she calls to beckon Jiminâs attention back to her. âJimin. Hey. Your aunt didnât leave you. Sheâll be back soon! Youâll see her again really soon. Trust me.â
The pair of hands Ming Ming tries to hold in an attempt to console yanking themselves free and shoving at her shoulder. The push doesnât hurt her so much as the screeches of anguish that escorted it. The sad reality of Ming Ming not budging an inch sinking in can be seen on Jiminâs face. She collapses onto the floor and her cries are amplified.Â
"It is four thirty-six p.m. and I just got done with my first session with child witness Byun Jimin. To ensure a fair presentation of evidence that are collected from counseling sessions, I am also including these follow up notes on top of providing recordings from the actual sessions. As the previous assessment stated, any attempt to make her talk will trigger her trauma and still will have an attack. Stated in my dissertation, âpost-traumatic stress reactions cause problems in Brocaâs area that governs verbalization; in some cases, Brocaâs area is actually shut down if trauma memories are overwhelming or recurrent.â Therefore I will use art therapy to help with her recovery as well as get her to possibly document anything she might recall from the incident.
Iâve given her a book for her to draw in as much as she wants. I plan to have this book double as a book of memories. For each session, Iâll give her a prompt that will help her internalize a part of the incident in more tolerable chunks. Today I asked her to draw something that makes her feel safe. She drew her closet. If I am interpreting this right, this is the closet that her parents hid her in before the murderer killed them both, and before the officer found her.
I am confident that she remembers enough in order to testify as a witness but I need time to help her cope with the trauma, and any guilt she might have. Any feelings helplessness. After that I will prep her for any court trial hearings.
S E S S I O N Â O2
"Jimin-ie. Do you remember how I promised you Iâd give you a flower the first time we met?â
The child doesnât look up from her artwork in progress but she acknowledges the question with a nod. She seems more responsive to the art than Ming Ming herself, but itâs still early. Ming Ming isnât going to push when the wounds are still fresh.
âIâll give you one before you leave today, but I donât know what your favorite color is.â Ming Ming continues on with the light conversation to help distract Jiminâs mind from diving in any spots too dark for her to handle. Jimin is calmer today. Not fully calm by any definition, but she recovered from her hysteria much quicker than before.
Jimin picks up a pink marker and waves it at Ming Ming.
âAh. So youâve been eyeing my pink carnations all along,â she playfully wags her finger at Jimin who wears a hint of a smile thatâs overshadowed her sniffling. âThese remind me of someone very important to me. You have very good taste. You are also someone important to me so donât forget that, okay?âÂ
The time is four thirty nine p.m. Weâve just gotten done with the second session of counseling with child witness Byun Jimin. When I asked her to show me if she drew anything during the time between our first session and now, in addition to some new drawings, she showed me the drawing from the first session again. She made two additions. She drew two stick figures. Todayâs prompt was to create a monster for Halloween. She drew a two headed wolf man. In one hand was a gun and the other was a knife.
From the case file, it seems as though the inspector only suspected one culprit but there might be a second if Iâm not over analyzing.
S E S S I O N Â O3
Ming Ming readjusts the flower hair clip so it wonât slip off. She leans over her desk with her head angled to show off the plastic pink flower attached to the clip. âHow does it look?â
Jiminâs smile grows and pushes her eyes to form two little crescents.Â
âYou like it?â she giggles along, eager to win over Jiminâs affections. âThank you for giving me this gift. Thatâs very thoughtful of you. Before I forget though. Can you show me what you drew today?â
The prompt is a compound one today. Draw something you really love and something you dislike. Itâs something simple to help remind Jimin that there are good things that exist in the world along with the bad.Â
The sketchbook is plopped onto the desktop before Ming Ming. Jimin flips through the pages with a noticeable enthusiasm. When she landed on the right page she pushes the book forward.Â
âHmm, letâs see what you have here,â Ming Ming says in a sing song-y tone. âIs this an angel?â
âMom,â Jimin swings her feet and bounces a little in her seat.Â
âI see the resemblance. You look like an angel too, you know.â Ming Mingâs eyes drift towards the lower half of the page. âAnd you donât like guns, I can understa --Jimin-ie. Whatâs this marking here?â
At first it seems as though Jimin is barking out of the blue, but the more Ming Ming listens the clearer the consonants and vowels became.Â
âWolf! Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!â
A cold chill numbs her body. She fights the paralysis threatening to overtake her limbs. Her hand gently pulls the drawer open and places the tape recorder inside. Once she closes the drawer once more, she turns back to Jimin.
âJimin-ie,â she lowers her voice to a hushed whisper. âCan you give me this picture please? I really love it.âÂ
Like an obedient kid, Jimin tears out the page and hands it off.Â
âThank you so much, Jimin-ie.â She catches the shudder in her own voice. Children are natural parakeets. Theyâll repeat anything they catch. The word âwolfsbaneâ couldâve slipped from her parentsâ mouths or the killersâ. How long until it slips out in court? She promised to take care of Jimin, but this conflict of interests puts someone elseâs life in the crossfire.
Ming Mingâs phone goes off, giving her a fright so bad that she jumps out of her seat a touch.Â
The name on the screen shows up.
âNI NI â„â
( Do you remember when I spoke about that very important person of mine? )
( Iâm sorry, Jimin. I have to break my promise to you. )
Sometimes I think she was no human, sometimes I think she was made of raw kindness and hope and light matter, sometimes I think she was brought to this cursed world by mistake.
Hello hello! A big thank you to all the welcomes Iâve gotten so far. Iâll get back to all of you as soon as possible. For those of you who arenât drowning in responsibilities/ongoing paras, please come plot with me ; u ; I have my plot page up but I will add more plots as more ideas come to me.
A couple of things about Ming Ming to help with the plotting process:
She is fluent in Korean as well as Mandarin. If anything, her Korean is accented.
She was born in Mainland China but immigrated to Seoul
Nobody in the police department is aware of her collaboration with Wolfsbane
