#(but he might have killed Kim's mom for the indiscretion)

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Chan waits three days before he approaches Kim. Determines that three days is enough to mourn the loss of the man he called father. He's right, of course, or Kim tells himself that it's enough.

His feelings on the matter are... complicated.

Kim hasn't seen Chan at all since the funeral, actually. Maybe the three days were for his own benefit. Chan served Korn for a long time, after all. Since before Kim was born. A loyal guard to the end.

Still, he isn't surprised when Chan slots into his space, closer than any other guard would dare, but still with a respectable distance between them. Kim braces himself for attack. He thinks Chan does, as well, recognizes the tightness in his shoulders from their days on the training mat. Days that seem so far gone, now, from another life.

"My condolences for your loss," Chan says, his voice even, betraying nothing.

Kim nods his thanks. He still isn't sure what kind of loss he feels - the loss of a father, or the loss of a burden he's born for far too long, since far too young. Both, perhaps.

Chan draws himself up, and Kim does, too. Here it comes.

"Your father revealed most of his... schemes, before his death, but not all. If you still want answers-"

"I don't." Kim's voice is sharper than any blade. He sets his face with the haughty mask he always wears at home - doesn't know when it slipped, whether it was before Chan walked into his father's office, or after. He makes his voice strong. "I am Khimhant Theerapanyakul. My father is dead. Whatever secrets died with him- none of it matters anymore."

Chan's expression never once wavers. He bows his head, dismisses himself with an even, "Khun Kim," and Kim doesn't allow himself to falter as he watches Chan's retreating back.

He doesn't want an answer to this last question, afraid of what it might be. Better to let himself live in blissful ignorance, and a child's fantasy of what might have been, than have it torn away by cold certainty.