silenthowls

[silenthowls]

soojung ,

( ... ) “So,” she says, stumbling forward and turning towards him, looking up at his face in the moonlight. With all the shadow on his face she can barely make out an expression, so she chooses happy. “Will you at least walk with me and help me find a taxi?” And then: “I’m a pretty good singer, huh?”

Yohan should have known well enough what he was getting himself into. Albeit, his expectations in the moment grow too high for him to see over. He predicted a night of bar hopping, allowing him to drink dry every glass that's set before him, brushing shoulders with strangers while navigating swarms of people, having to consider turning down mysterious pills and powders, then perhaps ending the night with an overindulgence of the largest cut of expensive hanwoo beef sitting neglected in his father's freezer.

He does expect ... more from Nam Soojung, of all people, and yet, he finds himself firmly in in his comfort zone, sitting on a cushioned bench as she ( badly, by his measure ) belts out the latest hits. One would think she was giving her own private concert. By the end, Yohan cannot lie — he has partially forgotten everything. Noh Hyungseo is a temporarily distant memory; his grief, a whisper.

The more shots of soju he downs, the drunker he gets on his own spilling laughter. The easier it all becomes to surrender himself to the tempting ecstasy of wanderlust. It is an open admission of how she entertains him so, and with his loose lips, he cannot bear to hold anything else in.

There are a handful of reasons why Jin Yohan tends not to drink. This happens to be one of them. He becomes a force of nature with no inhibitions and less of a filter than before. Determination turns high, ambitions become as foolish as those Hyungseo always dreamt of. Every fiber of his being thrashes against the thought of fully letting go. Nor does he feel the sudden impulse to run into traffic. He is still much too sober, is his final conclusion.

He steps alongside Soojung on the narrow sidewalk, keeping his gait straight with his eyes focused on his feet.

"You're... a shit singer..." The answer is, perhaps, too honest. His hand grabs the back of her jacket, holding her steady the way a mother cat would seize her young. "You're not shit company, so at least there's that," his eyes turn to her in kind. "Didn't think you'd be giving up this early, though. Here I thought Nam Soojung was the party girl. Or is your reputation just all rumors?"

[silenthowls]

seunghan ,

( ... ) seunghan fetches his box of cigarettes, flicks the lighter, and takes a drag. he watches the smoke swell into the air and it reminds him of that night, the fog of his breath billowing against the backdrop of the lake. it’d been just as cold then. “jung yoojin is a real fucking piece of work,” the utterance offhand, said under his breath. the knight turns to the latter, concern resting along the brow, and finally, he holds his cigarettes out to yohan. if he is not to rip it from himself, then he might as well indulge it a little. misery, company — all that.

"Fuck you, Seunghan," the name is said with venom on his tongue, derogatory in nature. The only way Yul would ever enjoy him saying his brother's name. "You too good to get mad that your best friend died? C'mon... Cause a scene... get up in arms. I know you want to but you're so set on fucking decorum today, just like the rest." His voice lowers in volume, slowed and casual, but rife with a contempt he could never leave. It coils perfectly around the wicked chuckle he coughs out as he lowers into a squat.

The tail of his black coat dips into the snow. His mouth twists into a crooked sort of smirk. It is past the point of the smug one that typically belonged to Yohan. There is a stinging madness in this one. The corners twitch as if he were on the brink of roaring laughter. Would Hyungseo not have enjoyed the show? To know there are those who worship so fervently? The thought amuses Yohan so.

"But I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," a scoff breaks through the stagnant winter air. The tips of his bare fingers trace lines in the surface of the untouched show, emerging kissed with red.

His voice trails near a whisper now. "I've known for a long time that none of them have ever given a shit about Hyungseo. That will never change, even ten years from now... and I'm sure some of them are happy that he's gone. What I don't like is the pretending. The fake condolences to his parents, forced frowns. They're putting on a show of their own, so I'm only responding in kind," the words staccato on his bitter tongue. "All of them are gonna regret it."

Yohan abandons his idle sifting through fluffy ice to gaze up at Seunghan, watching the warm flame dance against the cool sky, then the smoke linger with breath. He finally stands, hand raised in rejection to the offer.

"Keep your cancer sticks. You need them more than I do." Tempting as it were, he had much better methods of self-destruction carefully crafted in his mind. For now. He'd rather tear himself in two at will than bank on a slow death.

[silenthowls]

chanyeol ,

( ... ) there are not many people around this early in the morning and chanyeol is thankful. he fixes his cap, holding his face away from anyone who might pass them, and from yohan too. he knows yohan already has too much to worry about – they all have – and here he is, being a burden. "you can continue if you want," chanyeol adds. "i'll just stay here."

Perhaps Yohan should not have been so terribly insistent. So terribly selfish, as he tends to be, even after all these years. He thought he must have grown out of it by now, become someone with more tendency toward giving himself to others. No, no. Who is he kidding? When he invites Jung Chanyeol out anywhere, it is inherently selfish. He craves his company, just so he doesn't feel so alone, just so he can look upon his face and understand that there are those in this world he is happy to see.

He will blame it on the others in the King's Club for bringing it back out of him.

Yohan only notices something must be wrong when the steps he counts fall in number, fall behind. His head turns on a swivel when he is called out to in an all too familiar tone.

"Yeah...?" Yohan would have to deliberately ignore it to not see Chanyeol struggling. The fingers prying against his knee, the clench in his jaw. He knows the signs all too well by now. That pain he could never dream of taking on himself, but would to see the furrow on his brow vanish. He should have known better, however, when he put forth his hangout location of choice this time. Of all people close to Chanyeol, his familiarity with that injury of his is one he cannot look past. Memories of the look in the other man's eyes when broke down before him that night, watched as his dreams tumbled away from him in an instant.

"It's fine. I need a break anyway." Yohan stands in front of him, back facing the trail. He knows that need for privacy when he sees it. "Here. Drink." He holds a water bottle to his face, fingers lightly nudging the underside of his chin — force of habit — urging him to take it in hand and drink to his heart's content. Inside is some lemon lime electrolyte mixture; something one may think too sweet for Jin Yohan.

He is silent, only for a moment, to observe the turn of his friend's face away from him. Playfully, he grips the rim of his cap, holds without tilting it up or down. He can see those big wet eyes glancing up at him from behind it without having to.

"Dumbass. You don't really think I'd leave you behind, do you?" he feigns turning around to stretch his limbs, before falling into a squat in front of him to tie his shoes, back open — a silent invitation. "Why didn't you say something sooner? Don't tell me you were toughing it out the whole time."

[silenthowls]

soojung ,

( ... ) “So.” Straightening in her chair, she looks him full in the face. An imaginary hand extended in camaraderie, in an effort to be a lifeboat in a storm. Now or never. “Now that we’ve established that all I’m here to do is flirt with you and not at all because I feel sorry for you, will you finally just accept it? You’re kind of hurting my success rate here.” She doesn’t promise much — just someone close by for the night and a chance to leave melancholy at the door. Not a friend, but a poor imitation of it. It’s the least she could do.

"I suppose I should be thankful for you, then." But he knows he can expect no less from a club full of children of wealthy parents, slaves to ambition and lacking in heart. He is all too accustomed to his face being spat in when he's offered a hand.

It is a tumultuous upbringing that teaches Yohan to think with niceness comes trickery — a catch, if you will. Kindness is weakness, and kindness is a means with which to deliver deception, trust under false pretenses. He did learn, eventually, that there are some who would never think twice of baring their heart to even the most malicious of individuals. Here before him sits Nam Soojung, in all her foolishness, smiling and offering all manner of condolences and understanding. One lock of her eyes with his and he feels his thoughts spilling into her open palms, without a say from him.

Yohan cannot push away that little something that stirs in his chest. The desire for validation, attention, the need to be seen. He wants to push the miserable whelp back where it belongs: hidden in the depths of his soul. It shows only for a moment, that hint of gratefulness gleaming in his dark eyes. And so, he turns them away, hoping to look back at her with something more full of steel.

Then it happens — a compliment, shallow, but enough to grab him. The corner of his lips betrays his own thoughts to feed something that hungered. ( His ego? Inner child? The starving ache that burns with the bruises he hides? ) He... laughs for the first time in two weeks. God, Jin Yohan, you are pathetic.

"You're definitely more interesting than I gave you credit for. Surprising, too," he sputters out, at last. It all is, indeed, terribly interesting. He processes all of what falls from Soojung's lips into a sieve to sort through what may be bullshit. As if she would have any room for him on her docket. Does it matter? The words echo. There are a number of things he could say from here; retaliations and machinations she is not involved in. However, he would much rather play along than retreat further into those dark thoughts. He would rather she pretend all she likes, too. "Fine. I'll bite."

Yohan turns to face her now, his stance more open than the hunch he held before. He keeps his tone rife with amusement despite his reluctance. "My initial plan was to drink until I didn't know my name, or do something to ... forget all about everything, at least for a little bit. You already knew that, though," and that's why you're here, isn't it? I'd rather you feel sorry for me. He takes a final sip of his drink. He's not quite himself.

"Still, I guess it's no fun to drown in excess alone, if that's what you're getting at. Since you have the air of an ... expert, you are going to take the lead, aren't you? Take me to the island of the lotus eaters?"

[silenthowls]

DO NOT MATCH MY FREAK. I AM MENTALLY ILL. SAVE YOURSELF.

[silenthowls]

soojung ,

( ... ) “What’re you going to do by yourself anyway? Mope around? You don’t have to talk to me about it, but I’m not leaving you alone to do that. Mope with me; I’m sure I can cheer you up in no time.”

There is nothing left to do but quirk an eyebrow at the girl named Nam Soojung. Given the evidence of her tenacity already, there is no certainty that he would easily be able to shake her that night. Determination of some sort lingers behind her eyes; right by that sickening sweet tone of sympathy hidden beneath her cheery tone. It spurs him to exhale in disbelief. Aside from the issue of the company she keeps, Yohan had no particular negative notions concerning her. ( And the matter of her reputation for being "fun", as others would put it. Far be it from him to be the sort to hang around people like her. )

He keeps watch, in relative silence, as she puts the whisky to her lips and gives the most natural of reactions to the taste, the scald down the throat. It makes him think of his own first sip. His father swirling the glass at his desk across from him, ever the business partner rather than a parent. He chuckled the same was Yohan does now. Sickening, should he let the memory linger.

"Naturally," the short answer muffle itself as he sips on his drink — typically whisky sour instead of neat. He always cared for a bit of flavor to mask the sting, but Soojung is correct about several things. More observant than he gave her credit for. "Order anything you want. On me. Even for the ... little friends you ditched to talk to the brooding man at the bar. Aren't you too nice to be hanging around a guy like me? I'm sure that's what they'd say."

Yohan can merely roll his eyes at his own conclusion, then her own that takes its time to register. He does not say what he thinks — that he would never willingly hang out with, let alone fight to impress a girl like her. Now is not the time for protesting nor posturing.

"I don't care how I look. To anyone. You included," another sip, but he stills his lips around the rim. The scent burns his nostrils as he breathes in. "It's none of your business what I was going to do," but perhaps he should not be so bitter. "You're... sweet to concern yourself with it... or whatever... but I doubt you wanna be seen with me right now after what happened the other day. I know you're thinking it. Everyone is."

[silenthowls]

SEEING RED ⸻ @5threquiem

Grief is nothing the human body will experience once in one's lifetime, and it is not a delicate little monster — nor are the five fiends hot on its trail. It is the first time Jin Yohan has experienced the true sorrow of loss; of knowing the pain when another being he's bothered caring for has died. It is not unfamiliar like the death of his adoptive father's grandfather when he was too young to process the concept. He thought it was all a joyous occasion back then; what with the crooked smile on his father's face.

Only on the first day of Hyungseo's funeral did grief and all its companions introduce themselves to Yohan. Anger took a particular liking to him; settling on his shoulder alongside the sin called wrath who'd already burrowed its claws in long ago.

It should have been enough for him to brood in silence; take the loss with grace, remember he stands before others, Hyungseo's parents included. However, there is a lingering presence of others that churn his blood into a boil. The stone-like faces of members of the King's Club — the club he'd fought so hard to find place in, to uphold the pride of. All it takes is an off-hand comment by one, a tiff said in the sloppiest of stage whispers, to send Yohan over the edge he'd been on the precipice all week.

He breathes in, the scent of sulfer pushing through his nostrils, and when he exhales, it becomes a roaring fire.

"Would you shut the hell up?" is how it begins. And the hall grows silent, just as he requests. The bitterness bunches his voice into a firm stacatto. He could so easily say it all, shout every revelation the dead boy's parents had been hoping for weeks on end. Had Yohan the better mind to, perhaps he could have. In fact, he is unconscious of the things that spill from his mouth within those tense few minutes. He remembers yelling, accusing them of being unworthy of being there while his fingers clenched. Crying out that he wished Hyungseo had not been such a fucking fool to die. He wished, he wished, he wished.

He doesn't quite feel the sting of tears until he's dragged toward the entrance, cold dry breeze stuck on his skin, all the while a pair of hands pull his thrashing form back with all their might.

"Let go of me, dammit!" He pushes forth another command, hoping it would work as well as it did moments earlier.

[silenthowls]

Dower. Defeated. Distressed. Jin Yohan is all three of these things and more. Another night without the assurance that Noh Hyungseo would come around, make some ridiculous statement or request for him to chortle at. No more smarmy grins or foolhardy promises of the future. The one now looks bleak — terribly so — and he can do nothing of the sort to provide himself with solace, even the temporary sort. It does not come at the bottom of the whisky glass he stares so listlessly at in the middle of some bougie bar the most top of upper society would scoff at. It is easier here; when hardly a soul knows your face or cares to.

But those that do have a way of finding him, and ( perhaps ) solace could be laid out before him if he played his cards right. Of course, he hardly expected it would come from Nam Soojung. Not on the bottom of his list, however — despite her friendship with a man he swore enemy. He gives her a sidelong glance, skeptical smirk coming after.

He would deny her observation had he been more sober, but there is a tinge of hubris always lingering beneath the surface of Yohan's skin. "How did you know? Couldn't imagine diluting the taste with other things," and yet a claw of sarcasm hooks itself into his words. He is not so terribly sure what his own words imply any longer. For the time being, he would take the stroke to his ego; in the most superficial sense, that is. It is all he can hope to seek in a time like this. "But you think I can't pick up my own tab, Soojung?"

Eventually, he swivels around on the bar stool, eyes narrowly avoiding hers before she catches something darker in them. "I'll buy yours," he toys with his bottom lip between two fingers, gaze darting across the floor. He would much rather spend all of what was left of his father's money. "Will that help you leave me alone?"

In between the empty spaces, she sees him.

It’s not nearly as sentimental as it seems. He is, after all, the only figure at the bar, the seats parallel to him vacant on purpose. The way his back is arched reminds her of a wounded animal, spine bent with the weight of survival.  It’s a reminder of him at the wake; all that bark and that bite and that break. She remembers thinking that there is nothing romantic about that particular grief. The type that’s self-inflicted, a two-way knife.

And now he’s here alone. He’d kill her if she said it, but she feels fucking bad. Where they come from, they gut feelings out of you like the insides of fruit and polish the empty until it gleams. Then they look at you funny when you bleed anyway. Making machines out of men: an imperfect process. She would know; her dad had never managed it with her.

Back to the boy:

There’s probably a wealth of literature out there about how you’re not supposed to confront ticking time bombs, but to be honest she’s not big on the whole reading thing. So she goes off pure instinct: open hands, open face as she slides onto the seat on his right with ease, the ice in her glass tinkling from the maneuver. Let the change in atmosphere settle into the silence. Half of her feels whatever is just before regret — and the friends she’d left behind at their private table would swiftly agree — but she’s not in the mood for second guessing. Never been the type. So, okay, think: here she is next to a crouching tiger, and all she’s got for armor is her mom’s old Gaultier.

Light work.

“Let me guess — whiskey neat?” Airy tone to match a similarly carefree expression; from her point of view the glass is drunk clean, so really it’s a shot in the dark. “You kind of seem like the type. That or like, a martini. Bond style.” And then a big old smile, to set the mood. “Whatever it is, want another one? My treat.”

RED LIGHT — @silenthowls

[silenthowls]

PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP.

“hello, this is officer park donghyun of seoul metropolitan police. we’ve been trying to reach you regarding the noh hyungseo case. the case has recently been reopened as some new evidence has come to light. we would like to invite you into the station for a voluntary interview to clarify a few details from your previous statement. please contact me at your earliest convenience so we may book in a time. you can reach me directly at this number. we are aiming to conduct this interview sometime next week. thank you for your cooperation. we hope you have a good day.”

There is hardly any expectation from Yohan once he returns from work to his quiet home. He desires nothing more than a peaceful puff of a set of Cuban cigars gifted to him by a prolific client. What is he to do when that light continues blinking in his peripheral for the entirety of his relaxing lounge in his favorite chair? Ignore it?

A sigh flows from him into the untainted air, and he turns his head toward the maid busied with meticulously dusting the fireplace mantelpiece. "Eunji, would you mind fetching the laundry? It seems it wasn't done before I got home." The request is made in a relatively steady and innocuous tone, despite the look in his eyes indicating more of an order than a request. He needs to be alone for this; he had something of a hunch. It twists in his stomach and burns.

He approaches the answering machine and clicks the button on top. You have two missed messages, the robotic voice drones out before an irritating beep. The message plays.

"Fuck..." Yohan takes a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck." He rubs his temple with his palm, then the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He inhales, exhales. It does only so much to quell the anger coursing through him. To have to do this again, he is unsure if he will ever be ready. His fingers clenche around the unlit cigar until it snaps in half.

Would you like to delete the message? "Yes."

[silenthowls]

why were you at the midas resort at the time of his death?

He expels a long sigh before giving his answer. Fortunately, he corroborated with Yunhee the night before; helped the both of them come up with a reasonable answer as a last moment of desperation. Both of them were so run down from the events of the past week that they saw no further use in telling the complete truth. Both terrified of the consequences, emotionally drained. "It sounds a bit silly the more I think about it. Bae Yunhee asked me to come there as a chaperone for her and Hyungseo. I don't think he knew about it, though, and I tried to not interfere with their stuff too much. She asked me for advice on him a lot... and wasn't sure if their parents would approve of them being alone together on a trip like this, so I figured I would be their alibi. I wanted to help out since I wanted them to have a good relationship," his shoulders shrugged. "I used it as a time to relax."

[silenthowls]

did you notice anyone acting suspiciously after noh hyungseo was reported missing?

Yohan sighs, leaning forward in his seat. "Yes, a few people from our school," his eyes roll as he thinks of it, incredulous laugh bubbling from him. "I think it's kinda fucked that some people just have had no reaction to him being dead, y'know?" Now, this, he had no reason to fabricate. It is clear in his eyes that these are his sincere, real feelings, no matter if it is a matter of emotional opinion or not. "Song Sunyoung... It's almost like she was relieved or happy that he died. Kwon Taeri was the same. They seem pretty tight, too. Saw them chatting about it like it was just a matter of business." And he knows it is. Everything in this world has always been cold and callous. Could he benefit from being closer to human? "And Jung Yoojin, too. She's as smug as usual. I know they didn't like the guy, but it's a little much... to act like it's just no big deal. Makes me think... they wanted it to happen."

[silenthowls]

have you, at any point, been discouraged from speaking with the police or sharing information?

If the detectives hooked him up to a heart monitor, they would understand how this question trips him up. His heart pounds, filling his ears with a quickened drumbeat. The pain in his ribs jab at him again, reminding him of what would be best. It's better if you protect the integrity of the club and your own status. Who are you to suddenly be so upstanding and moral? You never were before. His father's voice is his own now, blurred together until he finds the words to be true. Of course, his classmates were also ones to push back on his need to speak the truth, but their opinions were never of any consequence to him — only Jin Dongha's. "No, but who wants to talk to the police?" He pauses, thinks about the sting against his cheek. Internally, he shudders. "No offense..."

[silenthowls]

Now that I've gathered some thoughts and done some brainstorming with a few people, I'm going to be making a more cohesive timeline and put my plot ideas from my initial post here so everything is all organized. Later, I will be making a specific page for events summarizing Yohan's reactions and interactions during them for posterity ~ I'll also do smth similar to this when the next part of the event hits as well.

⸻ THE ALIBI

Yohan was, admittedly, not thinking of giving too many people an out for this one. Unless you were Bae Yunhee, that is. The narrative is that Yohan overheard their plans to go to the resort for a getaway; his own presence there being a reluctant chaperone and alibi for their sake. Just in case their parents disapproved of their sudden private tryst and needed an out for being alone together. The rest of the story is that he, for the most part, kept to himself, wandering around the building quietly like a man intent on meditating — which is actually true to the real events of that day prior to the dinner party.

⸻ TIMELINE

DEC 20TH : Yohan was out on an arranged date when the news broke, and proceeded to make several phone calls. Needless to say, he rushed back to campus the minute after he hears it, trying not to throw himself into a panic. That night is his first sleepless one — he stays up all night.

DEC 21ST : The funeral comes fast; so fast that Yohan still hardly has much time to register what's happened. It is clear he is in distress. During this day, he is quiet, trembling as he attempts to keep himself together in the presence of others. He mentions after, off-hand, that maybe he should speak to the police.

DEC 22ND : By now, it is beyond clear Yohan has hardly gotten much sleep in the past two days, nor eaten from the way his stomach bubbles in protest. However, he is in intent on attending each day of the funeral. His parents attend with him this time to console Hyungseo's. Unfortunately, this is also the day Yohan happens to lose his mind and has his outburst, spurred on by the hostility that already rests in the air. He is dragged away and piled into his parent's car. They take him home shortly after where he continues his meltdown and subsequently punches a hole in the wall of his room. His father gives him the beating of the lifetime to knock some sense into him, and discipline him for embarrassing them in front of everyone. "You may be too old to send back, but we can sure as hell disown you. Did you forget how lucky you are?"

DEC 23RD : Yohan shows up to the final day, too; more rested, but keeping to himself this time. There is a bandage over his knuckles now and a far off look in his eye, light wincing as he walks. It is quite obvious he is seething, though. The same day, he visits the memorial for the first time and places the pocket watch he intended to gift Hyungseo after his victory among the other things. He decides it's time to throw himself head first into self-destructive behaviors.

DEC 24TH : Another memorial visit to assess what's been left for Hyungseo. Another day of thinking of taking up smoking. Another day of plotting revenge on everyone who has wronged him and Hyungseo.

DEC 25TH : His father, once again, is unhappy with his adopted son. He's caught wind of the police interview taking place the next day and decides to remind Yohan of his place. If he had any thought of exposing the entire thing, it's been forced out of him now. He's in no mood for Christmas dinner and leaves to do something more productive with his time.

DEC 26TH : The interrogation, interview; whatever you may call it. Yohan keeps to himself for the most part if he sees anyone at the station. He's decided. Everyone will pay for this somehow.

⸻ PLOT IDEAS

It is a couple days after Hyungseo is found. His funeral is taking place, and Yohan is none too calm about it. When his outburst comes, only MUSE A is the one who takes action and pulls him back before something bad happens. They are the one who loads him into the car that takes him to his parents' home where he is met with his own version of Hell. Not that they would ever know what they'd done.

SONG SUNYOUNG is determined to convince Yohan to cease in his determination to tell the entire truth. Whether it's done in a gentle manner or not is of no consequence. He doesn't seem like he's backing down the day the news is revealed, and he has it already set in his mind. Maybe it's time to set him straight. But, at least you aren't the only one trying to talk some sense into the man.

In this time, Yohan finds himself more willing to do things he wouldn't normally be inclined to do. In his search for distractions and in his attempt to put his mind off of completely going off the deep end, he finds solace in MUSE C for the time being. What's a little scandalous rendezvous between two people in a difficult time? Especially if it means he will chill out a bit and stop threatening to cause havoc? It might offer a temporary slice of stress relief along the way. And, no, it doesn't matter if they've always hated each other or will ruin their friendship with it.

MUSE D just doesn't get it. What was so great about Hyungseo anyway, and why is Yohan so damn hung up on someone like him? They are the first to express this out loud, deriding the man's method of mourning. It seems he's lost his mind, after all, so aren't their feelings justified? Anyway, it wouldn't be the first or last person who Yohan gets in a fight with during this week of turmoil. Physically or otherwise.

[silenthowls]

do you know of anyone who could possibly be involved in noh hyungseo’s death?

"Aside from himself?" He scoffs, incredulous. Jung Yoojin, Song Sunyoung. The entirety of the club, save a few. "Directly? No. And I mean, I blame myself, mostly… Like, I think about what I could have done so it wouldn't have happened. Feels like... it's all my fault sometimes." Oh, what a saint you are, Jin Yohan, a martyr, even. He pauses, unfolding his arms to press his face into his palms. "I'd rather believe it was an accident than... someone... did something to him." And, if true, he would never forgive himself — nor them.

[silenthowls]

is there anyone else you believe we should speak to?

"... Choi Hajoon and Kim Seunghan. They're his best friends. I'm sure they'd have better answers than I would about how he was acting around the time. Since they were always around him a lot." He exhales slowly, tilting his head back. "I think you should talk to," someone who will tell the truth and crack. No, maybe that's unlikely. "as many of the people that were there that you can. Someone must have seen what happened or knows something." And, yes, Yohan requires answers at all costs for his own benefit, but there is a devious part of him that would like to see as many of his classmates squirm as much as possible. It is only right.

[silenthowls]

were you aware of any threats or hostile behavior directed towards noh hyungseo?

"No. Never anything beyond the usual college kid drama, as far as I could tell. SNU also has a real... competitive vibe that everyone participates in, y'know? I always told him not to let it get to his head. Plus, everything's dramatic when you're a freshman." There is nothing but truth to the statement, and it is something he would have said to any who asked him outside of the situation. Sure, he could list the people he thought would have direct competition to Hyungseo's position, but he's sure it would bore the police to hear about petty gossip rather than clear threats to his life. Frankly, he never saw the others as a true threat to his safety. It was nothing he couldn't have handled himself, anyway... nevermind his direct accusations toward Jung Yoojin of sabotaging everyone. His brows furrow, concern etching a wrinkle between them. But did he miss something else this whole time? Did he underestimate the depravity of the new initiates?

[silenthowls]

do you have any theories about what might have happened to noh hyungseo?

"Not really, aside from the obvious... I kept wracking my brain the night he went missing, too, and... I guess, logically, accidental drowning is all I can think of." You tried all you could to stop it from happening, just as you tried so hard to halt the ritual? "So, I really just… don't know..." How fucking embarrassing. His voice cracks. He clenches his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously quite distressed thinking about what comes out of his mouth next. "He wouldn't have done something stupid like off himself, either." It couldn't be that, could it? Did he see himself losing and just couldn't handle it? Or plan it ahead of time. There's no way... He inhales, feeling his body tremble and his elbows press against his thighs. Fuck… The female detective places a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, her soft voice telling him how it's okay to feel these things, how great of a job he is doing. He meets eyes with her and flashes that charming grin of his, mutters an apologetic sincerity. He has half the mind to ask her if she's free later. As if it would do anything to help their case.