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jebewonmorelike · 18 days ago

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✰⋆⁺ Steal Your Heart ⁺⋆✰

*ੈ Part Four: The Emperor ♡ Shen Ricky

♡ Steal Your Heart Masterlist

♡ Read this Introductory Post and the Masterlist for details!

♡ Read Part One, Part Two (Gyuvin), Part Three (Jiwoong), & Part Four (Yujin) Here!

˚☽˚｡⋆ Steal Your Heart: An Interactive Fanfiction Game

... Collect Points to Determine Your Love Interest and Special Ending!!

⁺⋆✰ wc: 10k (i'm literally so sorry, but IN MY DEFENSE. i made you read 0 words all year, so i think you can handle this. you've rested, you've relaxed. you've got this. and it's really goooood)

⁺⋆✰ reader-insert pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader is the 10th member of AU ZB1, but the group is referred to only as an "idol" group. no mentions or descriptions of gender of reader.

⁺⋆✰ chapter warnings: crime (reader was wrongfully convicted of a crime), swearing, depictions of alcohol/club/speakeasy scene, suggestion of a drinking problem, ricky thinks he's drugged but he is not, ricky fault-in-our-stars a cigarette, mild violence, angst, a couple mild suggestive jokes... and lots of fun and insanity! all ages welcome; pg-13+ themes.

⁺⋆✰ summary: for series summary click here. (y/n) attempts to convince ricky to join the phantom thieves to increase their funds for medical supplies by taking a little trip to luxury club jeune et riche. plus: hao requests a bedtime story and a choice between late night shenanigans. inspired by the jrpg persona 5.

⁺⋆✰ please download the scoresheet for the game here!

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

Long time, no see, Player! Get your scoresheet ready-- we're diving back into the fifth part of our game. Are you ready to see how your Chapter Choice from Part Four plays out? You probably need a little refresher so I'll remind you briefly where we are: Yujinnie just had his awakening in the Metaverse and the Phantom Thieves have decided to recruit Ricky (known (Y/N)-hate BOOOO!) into the fold bc they need his money for medicine and supplies. **also fixed error in last chapter: forgot to put +1 Hanbin Point at the end of Hanbin's choice between him and Matt. So if you didn't add +1 Hanbin point and chose Binnie for that, pls add +1 point to your scoresheet! Remember to tally your points! Let's see what our Emperor arcana has in store...

THURSDAY JUNE 22ND -- AFTERNOON

All of Gyuvin’s “research” he’d been presenting to the media for the past year finally pays off as the Phantom Thieves sit on their laptops, sifting through the real life evidence you could match to President Kim’s and Manager Sang’s Metaverse confessions.

“Oh sh*t,” Yujin whispers, leaning in closer to his screen. “Guys, I think I found something!”

Rushing over to Yujin’s screen, the rest of you fight for a good view of the document. As you read the scan of TCM’s monthly finance statement from May, Yujin points to two entries.

“Right here, marked ‘Shareholder Contribution’: a payment to the company from Ricky hyung for 34 million won on May 15th,” Yujin says before moving to an entry a few slots below it. “And here: a payment from the company to an account named ‘Choi Byung-chul’ for 34 million won on May 17th.”

“A transfer of the exact same amount as Ricky donated just a couple days later?” Gyuvin poses, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d say it’s suspicious.”

“They’re both signed off by CFO Lee though,” Yujin says with a shrug.

“But who is... Choi Byung-chul?” Jiwoong asks, frowning as he reads the name from the screen.

You’re already on it, searching the name on Naver. You scroll down through the results, finding some retired athlete and a bunch of social media profiles belonging to old men. You’re about to give up, when you spot an idol profile website in the middle of all the results.

You gasp audibly at your discovery. It’s a biography profile for President Kim. And hidden in the “Interesting Facts” section is one incredibly interesting sentence:

Some fans have suspected Kim Hyunwoo’s real birth name is Byung-chul due to an alleged leak of his birth certificate in 2011, though Hyunwoo has denied this.

“Yujin-ah,” you say with a proud grin. “Pick any restaurant you want. Dinner’s on me Saturday night.”

“Huh!?” The youngest asks excitedly. “Why?”

“Because that semester of college has already created a genius,” you say, roughing up his floppy hair. Yujin grins, putting his head down on his arms folded across the desk to hide the shy blush on his cheeks.

“Hey,” Gyuvin pouts. “I’m the one who got the document in the first place.”

You glare at him. He’s always too tall to accurately read the room. Still, you walk over to him and reach up on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair as well. “You certainly are. And I am forever in your debt.”

“Aw, come on. I want dinner too,” he grumbles.

You turn around, finding Jiwoong looking a bit disappointed in his lack of contribution. You fight the urge to giggle at the sight. “And thank you for all your help, Woongie. We couldn’t do this without you.”

Jiwoong pouts, too. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You can’t help but laugh, walking over to him and pinching both of his cheeks. He laughs, shaking his head to escape your grasp.

“So...” You step back, looking at the rest of the Phantom Thieves. “What’s the plan?”

THURSDAY JUNE 22ND -- NIGHT

“Then if a little man appears who laughs, who has golden hair and who refuses to answer questions, you will know who he is. If this should happen, please comfort me. Send me word that he has come back,” you read the last words on the final page of The Little Prince, turning the book around to show Hao the illustration. You’d started reading the book to him last night, but he’d fallen asleep halfway through.

You close the book, setting it on Hao’s nightstand. Glancing at him, you can tell his tired eyes are watery.

Mini-Decision: Hao looks like he's about to cry. Will you Make Fun of Him or Comfort Him?

If you chose Make Fun of Him, read below:

“Are you--... Are you f*cking crying?” You ask, jaw dropped as you let out a laugh.

Hao’s brow furrows as he shakes his head quickly. “N-no... Of course not!”

“You totally are,” you say as Hao wipes his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “You’re crying over a children’s book!”

“What the f*ck, (Y/N)?” Hao spits, a pout forming on his lips. He, unfortunately, looks very cute.

“How does it feel? Hm?” You prompt, pouting back at him to make a point. “You make fun of me all the time. And now I can finally make fun of you again. Properly.”

Hao raises his hand and you’re sure he’s about to smack you, but, instead, he gently takes the book from your grasp. He looks at the cover, turning it over in his hands.

“I never even heard of this book until you said it was your favorite a couple years ago,” he remarks with a frown. “They asked us in that Buzzfeed interview.”

“Oh yeah, the normal one,” you reply, recalling that bizarre day of press. “And then after that, they made us read all those Thirst Tweets.”

Hao rolls his eyes. “The fans were saying a whole lot of dirty things about you and not nearly enough about me.”

“Probably wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore,” you say with a laugh.

“Definitely,” Hao corrects, shaking his head. “I definitely don’t, now that we’re having a comeback without you.”

“Wow,” you scoff. “Almost thought we were gonna have a nice moment for the first time this whole year.”

“Mm, I considered it,” he replies with a shrug. “But you just made fun of me in an incredibly vulnerable moment, so I’m thinking we’re gonna rain check that to never. Now get your fat ass off my bed.”

“Right. Okay,” you agree saltily. Maybe you didn’t make any new ground with Hao, but it was totally worth it.

Your bond with Hao has grown stronger. +0 Hao Point. Please add +0 Hao Point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose Comfort Him, read below:

Somehow you find it in you to suppress the urge to mock Hao ruthlessly, even though you know he wouldn’t do the same for you.

“It’s kind of scary,” Hao says, a tear rolling down his cheek. “All I keep trying to do is get back to my roses. What if--... What if I disappear too?”

“Well... There’s nothing to worry about now, really,” you answer tentatively. “The company’s preparing a comeback for you guys so—.”

“Oh, you know full f*cking well that we’re doomed before we even start,” Hao huffs annoyedly, sleeve coming up to wipe his eyes. “I just can’t figure out why they’re doing this. President Kim said he’d get me out. That I was worth saving. I don’t understand why he’d push a group comeback all of a sudden…”

Hidden underneath his insufferable self grandiosity, you’d be remiss not to notice Hao’s doubt of President Kim. Even before your incident, you’d never heard Hao express his doubt of Total Control. You wonder how long he’s had these thoughts.

“I don’t understand either,” you reply honestly. Hao’s eyes dart to meet yours in surprise, like he’d forgotten that you were there.

“You’re just pissed you’re not involved,” he says, brow furrowing annoyedly at you.

You shake your head, confessing truthfully, “I’m not.”

“F*ck off,” Hao replies with a sardonic laugh.

“I’m not,” you repeat earnestly. “Of course, it makes me really sad. But even more than that, I’m relieved. That you all have even a semblance of a shot to get back everything you deserve. All I’ve wanted this whole time was to finally stop hurting you.”

Hao just blinks back at you for a few moments, clearly conflicted by what you’ve just said. Finally, he rolls his eyes and kicks you with his foot. “Go to bed. You have a long day of doing everything I want you to tomorrow and I won’t be accepting any slacking off.”

Your bond with Hao has grown stronger. +1 Hao Point. Please add +1 Hao point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

“Well good night, Little Prince,” you say, hopping off of Hao’s bed. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the businessmen bite.”

You quickly dart your hands to his stomach, fingers touching the exposed skin before tickling him mercilessly. He yelps in shock, arms flying up to pry your hand off of him.

“STOP IT!” Hao shouts, unable to contain his laughter. “(Y/N) STOP! F*CKING STOP!”

You sprint to the door, throwing it open and calling over your shoulder, “GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE B*TCH!”

THURSDAY JUNE 22ND -- LATE NIGHT

Even though you should probably be getting ready for bed so you could be energized for the mission tomorrow, you’re feeling a little too anxious to sleep just yet. You open Kakao Talk, finding only two of your friends are online...

Mini-Decision: Will you choose to spend some time with Gunwook or Taerae?

If you chose Gunwook, read below:

You’d started playing Genshin Impact last September. At the time, you’d all still thought that Gunwook not coming out of his room was a phase. It wasn’t.

Though you’d originally kind of hated the game, you realized the first couple months after your arrest that you were growing desperate for any interaction with your former friends that you could get. Gunwook had sent multiple messages in the groupchat (that you’d been kicked out of) begging for someone to play with him. Perhaps you were both lonely in the prisons of your own making.

So you started playing, eventually leveling yourself up enough to unlock the multiplayer mode. You sent him a request and he ignored it for a couple days, sending out one last desperate plea to the other members. No one responded.

And that’s how you broke the ice again with the recluse. Sort of. The only thing he’ll entertain your virtual presence for is Genshin. But that’s enough for you, for now.

“F*CK YEAH!” Gunwook exclaims now as you finally defeat the boss you’d been grinding at. He readjusts the arms of his glasses under his headset as you relish in your victory, trying your best to remember not to let any sound out of your mouth. “That was all you at the end there, (Y/N). You’re getting kind of good.”

Thanks, you type into the chat box.

“Took you long enough,” he ribs, that wide, gummy grin lighting up the darkness of his room. “You’ve been playing for months and I’m pretty sure that’s all you have to show for it.”

D*ckhead, you send in reply. He laughs really hard at that and it warms your snowy heart. I’ve basically learned everything I know from you, so I think you’re really the one to blame for the poor progress.

“Oh, so you’re implying I’m a bad teacher,” Gunwook considers, nodding his head. “What if you’re just a bad student?”

Two truths can exist simultaneously, you type after a moment. He adjusts his glasses again, this time pushing his mop of hair out of his eyes. You always forget how youthful his face is, like a teddy bear. Which makes you think of something...

I think I deserve a prize for that win actually, you send quickly.

“Ah yes, why am I not surprised by that line of thinking from you?” He says with a knowing smirk. “What did you have in mind?”

A hug, you send finally after a long moment of hesitation. A really, really big Wookie hug that makes everything okay again.

Gunwook appears to stop breathing, impossibly still as he reads what you wrote. You knew you were taking a risk, but you don’t regret it. He looks down at his lap in anxious contemplation.

Doesn’t have to be now, you send with a sad smile. Just some day.

He presses his lips together as he digests your patient encouragement. It’s not enough to break down his fear and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s just good to let someone know that you miss them.

“Let’s get back to the game.”

Your bond with Gunwook has grown stronger. +1 Gunwook Point. Please add +1 Gunwook point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose Taerae, read below:

“Stay 내 눈물이 마를 때까지...”

The sound of perfect vocal tone and the smell of delicious tteokbokki in the air makes you sigh with contentment. What a beautiful summer night on a fairy-light adorned city street. It’s how you feel every time you round the corner to Kim Taerae’s pocha and tonight is no exception.

“Stay, my dear, stay, my dear,” Taerae sings, nearing the end of the song as he strums his guitar thoughtfully. There’s one older couple standing a few feet in front of him, admiring his talents. Oh, how the mighty fall...

The gentleman hands Taerae some money as he and his partner walk in the opposite direction down the street. You take the opportunity to sneak up behind Taerae as he counts the money, quickly grabbing his shoulders when he least expects it.

Of course, you’re treated to the incredible main-vocalist shriek that you were hoping for. You grin evilly as he clutches his chest, glaring up at you.

“Don’t f*cking do that!” He scolds, smacking your leg. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You shake your head, feigning offense.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was talking to the Prime Minister of Innocence,” Taerae says with a snort. You frown, actually offended now. “Oh stop. You’re the one who attacked me in the middle of the night.”

You roll your eyes pointedly at his dramatics.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks suddenly, one eyebrow piquing suspiciously. “You want tteokbokki again? That’s a lot of junk food for one week.”

You kick him lightly with your foot as you pull out your phone, your screenreader vocalizing, “I came to hear you sing.”

Taerae laughs. “Sure you did. What do you really want?”

You sigh, typing, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Taerae’s lips part at this. Back when you were trainees, you had the worst sleeping health ever. Taerae was your roommate and he’d frequently wake up in the middle of the night to you pacing or having an anxiety attack or crying from exhaustion. One night, he just started singing lullabies and didn’t stop until you’d laid back down and fallen asleep. Eventually with some counseling and improving your daily habits, your sleep pattern mostly returned to normal. But the few times you’d had trouble after that, Taerae would always sing you back to sleep no matter what time it was. Sometimes he’d fall asleep next to you too.

“And walking around the city at night is gonna help you?” Taerae asks, trying to pretend he doesn’t understand. “Go home. Lie down. Close your eyes. I’m gonna start packing up anyway.”

“Just one more song?” Your screenreader asks as you smile at him as cute as is physically possible. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Go,” he orders again, standing up and walking over to his tteokbokki cart-- starting to pack up his supplies for the night. You sigh disappointedly, walking back down the street the way you came. But before you can get too far, you hear a voice start to sing the same melody it sang five years ago...

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms...”

Your bond with Taerae has grown stronger. +1 Taerae Point. Please add +1 Taerae point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

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FRIDAY 6/23 -- LATE NIGHT

Ricky takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he can actually inhale. Just like he always does. Lounging on the purple, velvet vintage couch, a live band plays jazz music as about fifty of the highest elites in East Asia chat and drink around him.

There’s an idol he used to fancy a few years ago talking his ear off next to him. He hasn’t heard a single word they’ve said. But he can’t help it. Every time he tries to focus on something, his mind takes him to a different time.

A time when you were the one talking his ear off every Friday night at the newly opened Club Jeune et Riche. Funny how things change...

Now you can’t even talk.

And even if you could, you’d have to make up for a lot of shit before he’d lend an ear. And that was impossible.

He runs a hand across the purple velvet fabric of the couch, starting to smile to himself at the color before quickly setting himself straight. He makes a mental note to get the couch reupholstered before next week.

“Are you even listening to me?” A voice asks as Ricky stands up and walks over to the bar.

“Martini. Dry. Make it a double,” he says to the bartender flippantly.

“Sure thing, Sajang-nim,” the bartender replies, quickly fixing the drink and sliding it over to Ricky. Ricky nods in thanks.

He takes a sip from the glass with not so much as a wince. It burns, but it doesn’t phase him anymore. He remembers how every drink used to burn when you all were younger. How you used to pour a whole bottle of Grey Goose down his throat after a particularly stressful work week. He always wanted to quit halfway through, but the disappointment in your eyes would be too much for him to bear.

He suddenly wonders if it had always been your desire to destroy him, whether that be by ruining his career or giving him alcohol poisoning.

You made all of his best memories. And you were the worst thing that ever happened to him.

So why does he catch himself wishing you’ll show up at his club again every Friday night?

“You can do this,” you mutter to yourself, standing in the dim light of a street lamp across from Ricky’s club: Jeune et Riche. It had been awhile since you’d dared to venture to Cheongdam, what with your rapidly decreasing savings account and tattered reputation.

Jeune et Riche is packed with beautiful, wealthy people tonight, per usual-- you even recognize a few idols and actors lined up outside, waiting to be let in by the black-tie bouncers at the door. You hadn’t forgotten about the tight security at Ricky’s posh club. How could you, when you were the reason it had been tightened in the first place?

It was a funny story actually. Back before Ricky hated your guts, you used to party every possible Friday night with him and Jiwoong-- occasionally accompanied by other members when they were free or willing, but it was mostly a three-person shindig. When Ricky bought Jeune et Riche last May before the incident, you were still all so busy with your idol schedules that he realized he could only manage to open the club one day a week. He chose Friday as a tribute to you and Jiwoong’s tradition.

Opening night of Jeune et Riche, you’d gotten so sloshed that you accidentally spilled an entire bottle of Grey Goose on a very angry chaebol son that vowed to come back to the club next week and “bring back-up”.

Your tall, blonde friend stood in front of you, effectively shielding you as the guy grew more threatening until a couple bouncers finally dragged him out. It’s safe to say Ricky’s security budget tripled because of your drunken mistake. At least he only had to pay them one night a week...

You look at the clipboards the bouncers are holding, knowing full-well your real name isn’t on the list of approved guests. No matter. Tonight, you’re getting into the club as:

Time to see how your Chapter Choice from Part Four plays out, Player! As a refresher, Choice 1 was to go to Ricky's club as Yourself and Choice 2 was to go to Ricky's club in disguise as American art collector Rebecca Song.

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “YOURSELF”:

Tonight, you’re getting into the club as yourself. Because you’re breaking in.

After you got off of probation duty yesterday, you’d taken a little ride over to Jeune et Riche to survey the grounds. You put on a beanie and discarded your reflective vest in the backseat of your car. Phone in hand, you snooped around the building as unsuspiciously as possible-- hiding from the only security guard on duty in the early evening.

Though it took a bit of searching, you’d found a window panel at the back that could easily be removed. You poked your head in, finding that the window was tucked behind the giant, winding staircase that leads to the second floor. It’s a convenient location that might provide you enough coverage to get in unnoticed so you can search for Ricky.

You’d just need to hope that security would be at the front of the building at the time of your little heist. Lucky for you, Gyuvin had given you the perfect idea to guarantee just that.

You make your way towards the lines of people waiting for entry into the (second) most sought after nightlife destination in Cheongdam, wearing your most elegant, couture outfit in order to blend in with the crowds. You settle towards the end of the line, placing the drone Yujin had bought Gyuvin for Christmas last year on the sidewalk in front of you.

The drone begins to rise off the ground, higher and higher into the sky. You hope and pray Gyuvin knows what he’s doing for once in his life.

Backing away from the end of the line and high-tailing it around the corner of the building, you hear confused security guards start to yell behind you. The distraction is working. You spot the broken window panel just as two guards start walking your way. You duck behind the wall as they breeze by you.

“Can’t believe we’ve never had a drone incident before,” one guy says with a huff.

“I know,” the other responds with a chuckle. “What idiots came up with this? Don’t they know we can track the owner from the drone’s hard drive?”

F*ck. You’d have to worry about that later.

As soon as the coast is clear, you sprint to the window panel and start moving it aside. It’s a bit heavier than you expected and, for the first time tonight, you’re really missing your team of Phantom Thieves. Distracting security guards and breaking into buildings isn’t nearly as fun without a team of endearing imbeciles next to you.

The panel finally moves aside enough for you to climb inside. You land on two feet on ornate carpet behind the large staircase. You dust yourself off a bit, fixing your hair before stepping out into the open. You’re shocked at just how elegant everything is.

It’s suave and fashionable and dazzling, just as you’d tried to convince Ricky to design it when he’d first given you a tour of the building last May. You couldn’t believe when he rejected this idea that you felt suited him so well, especially in favor of keeping it “comfy” and “casual” at the time.

Ricky had never particularly liked comfy or casual anything. Why he’d said that originally was beyond your comprehension.

You walk towards the main bar of Jeune et Riche, hundreds of people packed in a vintage Hollywood style lounge. It’s dark, much more like a typical club environment and the music playing is an alluring mixture of house and brass instrumental. You keep your head down, as you walk the perimeter in search of Ricky but he’s nowhere to be found.

You make a haste exit, rerouting to where you remember the VIP lounge being. One door is propper ajar, though red velvet ropes block you from stepping inside. You observe from the entrance instead, since the room is smaller and a bit more well-lit. It’s themed like an up-scale speak-easy and jazz music blares from a live band in white tux jackets. Several celebrities and young public officials stand out to you, the VIP lounge populated by important and beautiful people. The kind of people you don’t fit in with anymore. The kind that Ricky still feels at home amongst.

But he’s not in this room either.

“When I catch you Ricky,” you mumble to yourself. “Ricky, when I catch you...”

Turning around to search the building further, you bump face-first into the impossibly cool fabric of a black, satin dress shirt. The tip of your nose vibrates as the owner of the shirt says, “Oh, do continue. I’m quite curious as to what it is you’re going to do when you catch me.”

You step backwards, eyes meeting steely-blue contacts that don’t do the malicious amusement of the platinum blonde standing in front of you nearly enough justice. He’s in a suit so dark it looks like a void, a red rose in the jacket pocket the only thing lighting up the sea of black. You imagine his eyes are either of these colors behind the contacts.

“Oh, hey Ricky,” you greet quickly, trying not to break a sweat as you feign nonchalance. You’re suddenly glad you didn’t overestimate your acting chops and come in disguise. “Fancy seeing you here! You--... you come here often?”

Your heart drops as he raises his eyebrows quickly at you, one pointer finger gesturing to the ceiling. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Yeah, for sure,” you agree with a sheepish wince as Ricky takes your forearm in his big, slender hand and guides you to the spiraling stairwell. You trudge up each step silently, heat radiating from the spot where Ricky is holding you too tight. At the top of the stairs, he unlocks a pair of large, arched doors and ushers you inside, quickly locking them again behind him.

Much to your surprise, Ricky has brought you into his art studio. And even more surprising, the room is completely empty aside from clean, white canvas tarps covering every surface inch.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask, eyeing him warily.

“A security guy said a drone had been flying around the perimeter for a bit. They traced the signal back to TCM, so I figured one of you was wreaking havoc on my establishment,” Ricky explains curtly. “I walked around for a bit downstairs and then I smelled purple, so I knew it was you.”

Your left eyebrow piques in confusion. “... What did you just say?”

“I smelled purple so I knew it was--...” Ricky’s mouth closes immediately. “I--... I’ve always thought you smelled like the color--... Oh, forget it.”

“Ooookay,” you agree awkwardly, as Ricky fiddles with the rose in his pocket. You can’t tell if what he just said was meant to be an insult or an accidental compliment, so you just decide to let it slide. Maybe you’d never know what that was supposed to mean. “Hey, how’d you manage to get out of the Friday night meeting?”

He snorts. “Well, the company’s not gonna tell the biggest shareholder not to make his money, now are they?”

“Point taken,” you agree with a nod. “So, where’s all your work? Kinda thought your studio’d be a little more showy.”

“Sold it,” he answers.

“What!? All of it?” You protest with a frown. “What about the one with the cherry blossoms? You said I could have that one!”

“Like you could afford it,” he quips with a sneer.

“Such a f*cking jerk,” you mumble, shaking your head as you turn the other way.

“Oh, I’m the jerk?” Ricky retorts, amusement fading fast. “Last I remember, I’m not the one who murdered someone in cold blood.”

“Do you really think that? Do you really think that I’d ever do something like that?” You ask, head whipping around again. “F*ck Ricky, I know I’m no angel. But if you’re willing to believe after all our years of friendship that I’d ever be capable of that, then... Maybe we were never really friends.”

He looks down at his expensive Italian shoes. Shoes you bought him as a birthday present at Milan Fashion Week. He told you not to waste your money when he could buy them himself, but it wasn’t a waste because what else is there to do with money other than spend it on the people you love?

“Maybe not,” Ricky whispers. “Maybe I never really knew you behind the liquor.”

There could be truth in that, you think. Just not in the way he’s intending it.

“We used to have a pretty good time though,” you muse out loud. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel invincible the way I used to here with you. So f*cked up and everything was just...”

“Perfect,” Ricky finishes and for a second, you think he’s about to smile. “And now everything f*cking sucks. Because of you.”

You nod to yourself, before a thought crosses your mind. “Not everything.”

He laughs callously. “Oh yeah? Please, tell me how you’ve improved my life this year.”

“Well, you finally took my speakeasy theme suggestion,” you say with a shrug. “Seems to be a pretty big hit with the guests.”

Ricky rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s f*cking amazing, Ricky,” you assert, throwing your hands out in emphasis. He blinks at you slowly. “It’s exactly like how you always dreamed it would be. It fits who you are so perfectly! Elegant, mysterious, charming... I can’t believe you ever said you wanted to keep it ‘comfy and casual’! It literally SUCKED before-- compared to this.”

Ricky clears his throat suddenly, looking back down at his shoes. “Well, it wasn’t that bad before...”

“Yes, it was,” you insist, crossing your arms. “Maybe alcohol does rot the brain. Literally, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about how before I bought the place you said all you wanted was a ‘comfy and casual’ hangout spot for us to party!” Ricky blurts exasperatedly.

You stare at each other, unblinking for a moment as your lips part in shock. “You--... you bought the club for me?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets annoyedly, looking at anything but you. “I... I didn’t say that.”

“Ricky...” You say, eyes starting to water. He looks up at you, his gaze softening.

But it doesn’t last long as the inside of his cheek fits between his teeth. “I guess that doesn’t matter now though.”

You swallow hard. “Because now you wish you never met me. Now you hate me.”

“Yeah,” he affirms, looking you up and down for the first time since he’d caught you-- brow furrowed in introspective hesitation. “But it’s...”

You wait patiently for him to sort through his thoughts. And you’re glad you do.

“Seeing you alone, face to face,” Ricky says, eyes filled with sadness. “It’s become clear again that it’s more complicated than I try to pretend it is.”

Your bond with Ricky has grown stronger. +1 Ricky Point. Please add +1 Ricky point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “REBECCA SONG”:

Tonight, you’re getting into the club as Rebecca Song: esteemed, American art-collector. It would be the role of a lifetime and you’d been prepping vigorously for the past 48 hours in order to perfect your performance. Jiwoong had found a slinky, black Versace evening dress that some random hook-up had left in his hotel room once (ew, but at least you didn’t have to spend money on an outfit).

Gyuvin had snuck into the stylists’ storage space while at the company on Thursday and found a long, sophisticated blonde wig from one of the episodes of your old variety show you’d filmed a couple years ago. Taerae had played a character named “Tammy”. It’s better if it’s not explained any further than that.

Yujin had enlisted a very confused but elated Hanbin to teach you to “slay” harder. You’d mastered werking and serving since your debut, but you have to admit that slaying had never come particularly easy to you. Hanbin fixed your issue in a little over an hour, with lots of accompanying laughter and blackmail photo-taking from your maknae.

You’d even enlisted the help of Gunwook to make a realistic, credible website for heiress, art-collector Rebecca Song. He’d looked at you strangely through his webcam, one eyebrow raised in suspicion as he stared at the document of information you needed him to include. Right as you thought he’d been about to refuse, you wired him 150,000 won through Kakao Pay. He got to work right away after that and the result was... convincing enough for Ricky.

The final touch was a very official-sounding text message from Rebecca’s representatives, which you sent from a fake American number around dinner time this evening. Though he’d been skeptical at first, the link to the website Gunwook made is enough to convince your genius-of-art but not genius-of-smart ex-friend. You request an invite to Jeune et Riche for tonight.

Hook, line and sinker. ‘I hope she looks forward to meeting with me.' Classic Shen Ricky.

And now, you make your way to the VIP line outside of Ricky’s club. You have to admit, it feels pretty good to be considered a VIP again. Even if you have to pretend to be a completely different person to receive the special treatment.

Much to your surprise, Ricky is waiting outside-- pacing nervously back and forth nervously as he wrings his hands together. When he spots you in the red velvet roped line, Ricky jogs over to you immediately.

He nods his head respectfully, a hand outstretched for you to shake. “It’s a pleasure to make my acquaintance, I’m sure of it. I’m Ricky.”

Your hands are covered in long, elegant satin gloves; your eyes shielded by fashionable sunglasses and a haute couture wide-brimmed hat. “Charmed,” you reply, a glimmer of hope lightening your spirit at the believability of your American accent. “Miss Rebecca Song, of the American Song elite dynasty.”

“Wow,” Ricky says, looking you over from head to toe. He appears to be delighted by your appearance. “You’re absolutely breath-taking. I mean, seriously. This must be how others feel when they meet me.”

You look at Ricky, fighting every urge in your body to smack him silly. He does kind of have a point, though. From the icy, blonde hair, to the sleek, all black formal attire... You realize you’ve accidentally dressed up as the female version of Ricky.

It would only make sense that he’s attracted to you like this. You’ve caught him flirting in the mirror with himself more times than you can count.

This was not what you had intended. But if it would help the chances of a successful operation, you might as well just roll with it.

Ricky keeps your hand tucked delicately in his as he leads you through the entrance of Jeune et Riche and into the VIP lounge. His presence is met with happy uproar, men in suits standing up to clink their glasses with his and guests of all genders ogling him with desire.

Amid the chaos, Ricky laces his arm through yours to keep you steady next to him. He escorts you to the bar-- a black-tie bartender shimmying over faster than lightning to assist his employer. “What will you be having to drink, Sajang-nim?”

“I’ll have an old-fashioned,” Ricky responds before looking to you. “Miss Song?”

“I--.”

“Actually, could I make a recommendation?” Ricky asks with a smile and, honestly, you’re a bit distracted by that smile. You haven’t seen it in such a long time. You nod. “We’ve just added a cocktail that’s become quite popular with guests already. It’s called the French 76.”

“French Seventy... Six?” You ask, assuming he misspoke.

Ricky laughs. “Yes, it’s a new spin on the French 75. Instead of gin, it’s made with vodka.”

You freeze. “Vodka?”

“Yes, it’s really very good,” Ricky encourages. “You can’t go wrong with Grey Goose.”

Grey Goose. You haven’t had Grey Goose since...

You look up at him cautiously, searching his eyes for any sign that Ricky’s already recognized you and is putting you to the test. But your search comes up empty. He’s just really excited about the new cocktail.

It would be suspicious if you refused. So you nod quickly, forcing a small smile on your lips, “Sounds divine.”

Ricky’s arm laces with yours again as you ascend the spiral staircase up to his studio. Slaying on level ground had become fairly easy, but Hanbin hadn’t mentioned anything about slayage at an incline. Short form: you were thankful for Ricky’s uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

How lucky could one (fictional) girl be?

Pulling a keycard out of his wallet, Ricky unlocks the arched doors that lead to his studio. He holds the right door open for you as you step inside.

You’d actually never been inside Ricky’s art studio before. It was a space that had always been strictly off limits to you and the other members, so to finally be seeing it like this made you feel a bit…

Guilty.

The room is large but surprisingly humble in decor, the floors and walls all covered in white cotton sheets. There’s splatters of paint scattered throughout the well-lit studio-- easels with finished work displayed on them gathered at the center of the space, too far away to see them properly.

But as you step closer to the painting in front of you, you gasp as you recognize the subject depicted in them immediately...

It’s you.

“These are my exclusive pieces from my canceled gallery. It was titled Ambivalence,” Ricky says quietly. “It means to have conflicting or opposing emotions at the same time toward one subject.”

You swallow, trying to regain your composure as you move to the next painting and then the next and the next. They’re all of you. Different degrees of hatred seeping into each depiction of your likeness; purple and red the main color motif throughout the gallery pieces. Some of them feature other members of your group alongside you.

Some of them are just you.

“Who--...” You stammer, trying to swallow down the lump that’s forming in your throat. “Who is the subject?”

Ricky stiffens. “Someone I used to know.”

“Used to know!?” You exclaim indignantly. Clearing your throat, you bluff, “I mean... I’ve seen many artists who... paint one subject over and over, motivated by intense emotion. The colors and technique you use suggest that this is still a fresh wound.”

“Hm,” Ricky hums, looking down at the floor as he considers your words. “Perhaps I’ve been too obvious in my approach. I should throw these away and try again...”

“NO!” You shout, grabbing his arm and keeping him from shredding up his work on the spot (which you know is a regular pattern of his). Ricky’s gaze falls to your gloved hand wrapped around his arm. “No, I find them worthy of my collection... because of their rawness.”

Ricky turns back to the painting in front of you. “I see.”

“Could you explain to me what the two colors represent?” You ask, urging him to spill a little more to you.

He nods slowly, pointing at the canvas with his pinky finger to the fiery red washes across your face. “The red, of course, represents anger. Resentment. Hatred. Loathing. For what they did. And how they hurt me.”

“Right. Of course.” Your cheeks burn red just like the painting at the intensity of Ricky’s distaste for you. He moves his finger to the rich, purple washes on the painting.

“The purple hues... “ Ricky trails off, coughing lightly as if he’s embarrassed by something. “The subject wears a fragrance that smells like the color purple to me. So I always associate purple with them.”

You raise your eyebrows at this. Ricky had never mentioned associating you with the color purple before.

“I think that the purple represents the subject themself,” he says, nodding definitively to himself. “And, the truth is, I’ve always truly adored the color purple.”

The sudden confession makes you dizzy. Lightheaded, you stumble into a very surprised Ricky’s arms.

“Oh, Miss Song,” he says, holding you close. “I’ve touched you with the tortured depths of my soul. You’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you? This wouldn’t be the first time this has happened...”

Ricky is close to you. Too close.

“How funny,” he says slowly, in a way that suggests he’s noticed something very unfunny. “You smell like purple, too.”

You jerk backwards, trying to get out of his range of scent but you stumble on the hem of your dress-- falling backwards into an easel...

Your wig snags on the corner of the easel, falling off your head as your sunglasses clatter to the floor. Ricky is alarmingly silent as you wince at the ground.

“Guess you can give it up,” he says, your eyes meeting finally. “The aversion to the Grey Goose makes a lot of sense now.”

“I knew you really hated me, but,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know it was enough to fuel a whole gallery of paintings.”

“It could probably fuel a few more galleries, honestly,” he replies with a shrug. “But, like I said, it’s more... complicated than that.”

Your bond with Ricky has grown stronger. +2 Ricky Points. Please add +2 Ricky points to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

You nod slowly. “Is the... complication... the reason you haven’t kicked me out yet?”

“No. I’m actually kind of flattered that you’d go to such lengths to spend some time with me,” he answers with a sad smile. “Something must be really wrong. So spill.”

“I--... I need your help,” you confess after a moment with a heavy sigh. “I really, really need your help with something.

Ricky swallows hard, eyes widening slightly at your request. “Why me? Can’t you ask Gyuvin or Hanbin hyung or--?”

“No, I can’t,” you interject quickly. “I need your help, Ricky. And I... I can’t really offer much more of an explanation than that until you see the situation for yourself.”

Your tallest, blondest friend looks at you for a long time. Then he laughs, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips. “I always knew you’d come begging for my help some day. I honestly can’t believe it took this long.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you do that,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “You’ve always gotta turn everything into one big Ricky d*ck-suck.”

Ricky coughs awkwardly at your sudden familiarity. “So, what’s the ‘situation that I have to see for myself’? I should probably assess it before deciding whether or not to provide assistance.”

You take your phone out of the Gucci purse slung over your shoulder and check the time. 11:57 P.M. The boys would be done at the company soon. “We can go now, if you want? I’ll drive.”

“You want me to get in a car with you behind the wheel? Seriously?” Ricky asks, staring at you like you have two heads. “Your driving isn’t exactly award-winning.”

“Don’t you fucking say another word,” you say, kneeling in front of him as you grab his tie in one hand and cover his mouth with the other. He stares at you, shocked by the assertiveness and close proximity-- his ears turning red even as you loosen your grip.

“Let’s go,” Ricky says quietly when you remove your hand from over his mouth, standing up and brushing off his black suit pants.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

You’ll never admit it to Ricky, but you’re extra, extra careful as you drive him to the Total Control building. You were always a good driver, but you really didn’t need any more flack from him. Ricky calmed down after the first few minutes and a slightly comfortable, slight uncomfortable silence has settled over you.

That is until you realize something major.

“HOLY SHIT, MY VOICE!” You yell, the sudden blast of sound causing Ricky to jump in his seat and clutch his chest. “You never said anything about my voice!”

“Oh, right,” he replies, rubbing his collarbone anxiously. “Honestly, Hao showed me a PowerPoint presentation he made a few months ago claiming you’d been faking it this whole time. He was pretty convincing so I sort of just went with it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Hao,” you say through gritted teeth. “But it’s not true. My voice came back on Monday, actually. I’m--... I’m trying to keep it on the down low.”

“Are you asking me to keep your secret?” Ricky asks as he stares at the side of your face. “You can’t possibly think the chances of that are very good.”

“Not yet,” you agree, pulling into a parking spot on the street behind the company building. You scan the back entrance for the other boys, but they’re nowhere to be found. “But I’m willing to bet they’ll improve drastically in a few minutes.”

“Didn’t remember you being so hopelessly optimistic,” Ricky remarks with a frown.

From the back entrance of the building, Jiwoong suddenly emerges. He looks around and you flash your lights to let him know you’re there.

“C’mon,” you command, stepping out of the car and walking toward Jiwoong as Ricky follows far too leisurely behind. “Would a little urgency kill you?”

“I’d prefer not to take any chances,” Ricky answers with a smirk.

When you reach the door, Jiwoong ushers you both inside. He removes the black face mask he’s wearing, putting a hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “Hey man. How are you?”

“You are not getting invited back to Jeune et Riche,” Ricky replies coldly. “So don’t even think about it. Do you know how much I had to shell out to get the paparazzi to delete those pictures of you making out with the President’s son?”

“President Kim doesn’t have a son,” you reply with a frown.

Ricky chews his cheek, correcting, “The President of Korea.”

Jiwoong presses his lips together in embarrassment. “Good to see you too.”

“What are we doing here?” Ricky asks, looking around the dusty basement of TCM. “I’m allergic to poor air quality.”

“Isn’t everyone allergic to--?” Jiwoong starts to ask needlessly before you cut him off.

“We’re going up,” you say, walking over to the open elevator and stepping inside-- Jiwoong on your heels.

“Who is this ‘we’ you speak of?” Ricky asks, following you onto the elevator and then shoving you back out into the hallway. “You are legally barred from stepping foot on any foot occupied by TCM property or personnel. There’s no way you have the money to pay the fine for that.”

At this point, he’s probably right, you think as you force your way back onto the elevator. Luckily, you and the rest of the Phantom Thieves had already devised a plan in case things go awry. You could count on them, couldn’t you?

You glance at Jiwoong, who is busy pressing every elevator button to every floor in the building and giggling like a little sh*t.

What’s another few hundred thousand won?

Though you have to go through a few extra floors, you eventually reach your destination: the business and finance department. You step off the elevator, pulling a face mask up to shield any of your identifying features.

“Where are the others?” You ask, looking around for Gyuvin and Yujn’s hiding spot.

“Others?” Ricky asks a little too loud. You and Jiwoong shush him mercilessly and he snarls in response.

“I dunno actually,” Jiwoong whispers as you round the corner. “Gyubinnie just said to trust him.”

“And you did!?” You whisper-scream back at him. Before he can defend himself, the door next to you suddenly opens and a large hand pulls you inside a room. Gyuvin shuts the door quietly behind Ricky as you all file in. You look around, realizing you’re in some sort of utility closet.

“Okay, with no due respect, what the f*ck is going on?” Ricky demands, quickly growing tired of this whole thing.

“So, this is gonna be hard to believe but--,” Jiwoong starts to explain before Yujin cuts him off.

“We’ve got three minutes left of our break,” Yujin says, checking his phone. “He’ll be fine. None of us got an explanation beforehand.”

“An explanation of what?” Ricky prods again to no avail, tongue poking at his cheek in frustration.

“He’s right,” you agree, nodding at the youngest. “There’s nothing we could say that would actually prepare him anyway. So let’s go.”

"COMMAND RECEIVED. NAVIGATING TO: THE METAVERSE: LEVEL 1 SAFE ROOM. ENJOY YOUR STAY."

Despite the MetaNav registering your command, the atmosphere fails to change. You wait for a moment and then another and another...

“I’m leaving,” Ricky announces suddenly to which Gyuvin responds by blocking the door. “Step out of the way. I did not sign up for nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Yujin argues. “Just hold on a second.”

“Unlike you four, I actually have a life to attend to,” Ricky says, starting to wrestle with Gyuvin to ge to the door handle. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be--.”

Ricky grabs the door handle, throwing it open to reveal a giant castle vault in place of the plethora of office desks. Piles of gold line the stone floors and rows and rows of small, locked depositories line the walls.

Ricky stares at the sight before him, gobsmacked as he takes it all in. “You--... You...”

“... ‘You deserve an apology’?” Gyuvin finishes for him, rubbing the spot on his rib cage where Ricky had shoved him. “I think that’s what you were trying to say.”

“You f*cking drugged me!?” Ricky shouts, fuming as his gaze fixes on you. “I thought you--... I really thought you needed me. But you were just playing a sick f*cking joke on me! I’m so f*cking stupid.”

You blink back at him, a bit stunned by the sadness in his voice.

“I thought I was going to get to trust you again.”

The bitter disappointment in Ricky’s eyes is enough to break your heart all over again. But you’d only have to endure the pain for a little while longer. Hopefully.

He walks to the center of the vault, picking up a small gold coin and flipping it over in his hand. Then he throws it at a vase, shattering it into innumerable pieces. “F*CK YOU!”

“Should we stop him?” Jiwoong asks, grimacing at the uncomfortable sight.

You shake your head. “No, he needs to--.”

Your sentence is cut short by the sound of a metallic clink hitting the stone floor. You walk over to the shattered vase, sifting through the debris to find a gold key. Picking it up, you turn around-- taking a closer look at the vases littered around the atrium of the vault. There’s a set of English letters inscribed on each one.

“Our initials!” You exclaim. “Each vase has one of our initials on it. This one must’ve been mine.”

“Where’s Ricky’s?” Gyuvin asks, immediately running over to begin searching.

“I found it!” Yujin calls, beckoning you all over.

Ricky looks at the vase confusedly. “This is a really weird trip.”

Jiwoong grabs a gold coin, waiting for your signal before smashing the vase-- a key clinking to the ground. You pick it up, examining the key and comparing it with yours when you suddenly hear a ‘hm’ from the other side of the vault. You turn to find Ricky looking at the rows of safes on the back wall.

“What’d you find, bud?” Jiwoong asks cautiously.

“Our initials,” Ricky answers after a moment. “They’re on these safe boxes, too. You know, I really would’ve thought I’d be hallucinating less of you all.”

“Ricky, you’re amazing!” You exclaim, running over to him and forcing up his hand to high-five you.

“I know and I’m not surprised you’d think that,” Ricky agrees-- shaking his head. “But no amount of flattery is going to--.”

You shove him out of the way, looking for Ricky’s initials as he sulks in the corner.

“Got it!” Gyuvin says, tapping on the copper safe. You hand Ricky’s key to him, but as Gyuvin presses it into the lock...

BRRRRRRAAAAAAANG. BRRRRRAAAAAANG.

“Sh*t,” you exhale as a piercing alarm sounds, pointing to a hidden conclave to the right of the wall of safes. “Hurry, in here!”

Four shadow guards march into the vault, equipped with glaives that seem much bigger and sharper than the ones previous guards held. Directly behind them, is a figure that you’ve seen before, dripping in gold-threaded silk...

Chief Financial Officer Lee.

President Kim’s ex-wife’s older brother, CFO Lee had been brought onto the company quite recently after the collapse of TCM’s stocks last year. The previous CFO quit in a hurry to save his reputation and President Kim needed an... easy... replacement. From what you read online, he does at least have a college degree. In graphic design.

Suddenly you realize that, in the race to the hiding spot, you forgot to take Ricky with you. Well... Maybe it would speed up the awakening process... Best case scenario...

“CFO Lee?” Ricky asks, closing his eyes really hard and then reopening them. “What--... what are you wearing?”

“Really? That’s his first question?” Yujin asks with a frown.

“Ricky-sshi, how good it is to see you,” CFO Lee bellows as he and the guards move closer. The Phantom Thieves assume the defense as you signal for them to hold their fire. “You were missed at the last shareholders’ meeting. And the one before that.”

Ricky’s brow furrows. “I had a thing.”

“Oh yes. You always have a thing,” CFO Lee says with a malicious smirk, approaching the wall of safes. CFO Lee twists the key still sitting in the lock, opening the safe with Ricky’s initials on it. From the conclave, you can see that inside the safe are dozens of parchment scrolls, each tied with red, velvet ribbon. He removes the largest scroll from this safe, untying the ribbon and handing it to Ricky. “You make it so easy for us to make our financial decisions without you.”

Ricky opens the scroll, reading carefully what’s written on it. After a moment, he shakes his head. “I--... I don’t understand. This is just a list of all the shareholder donations I made to the company this year.”

“A closer look, perhaps?” CFO Lee suggests with evil delight. “How about you read it aloud for us all to enjoy?”

“Bastard,” Gyuvin mumbles under his breath.

“Below is a list of every contribution made by top shareholder Shen Ricky to the receiving parties...” Ricky pauses, brow raising in shock. “Kim Hyunwoo and Lee Jungil? But--... But...”

“The King has had such a hard time managing his kingdom,” CFO Lee says, ripping the scroll from Ricky’s hand. “He can hardly afford his penthouse in Hannam-dong or the new BMW he had to buy after his... accident.”

“What!? No,” Ricky asserts, grabbing the scroll back from CFO Lee and reading it over again. “No, that can’t be true. I--... That money is supposed to keep the company afloat. It’s supposed to go toward all of our dorm expenses and debts until our contracts expire.”

“Oh, do not fret, Ricky-sshi,” CFO Lee replies, voice coated in venom. “Your contributions also helped us pay off the expenses of bribing the court for (Y/N)-sshi’s trial.”

“This--... this is just a hallucination... This isn’t real,” Ricky attempts to assure himself, but you can tell it isn’t really working. You press your lips together, waiting for him to come to his own realization. He looks down at the scroll. “But I--... How can I read this so clearly? Shouldn’t it be all jumbled and blurry? Or not make any sense?”

“How about we test this reality?” CFO Lee suggests, motioning to the guards. The four shadow guards charge at Ricky, prompting you to give the Phantom Thieves a signal to attack. You dart out behind the corner into the atrium of the vault, each directing your powers at a different guard. But for some reason, the guard Gyuvin targets does not take the damage and it instead reflects back at your best friend. Ice engulfs his large hand before shattering to the ground, leaving a wicked frostbite across every inch.

“Ai-ssh,” Gyuvin seethes in pain, but you’re too busy watching in horror as the guard left unharmed pierces the fabric of Ricky’s suit jacket at his shoulder, pinning him to the wall of safes.

You see the shift in Ricky’s eyes. The pure terror, the anguish, and finally the rage that this is real. He screams, sweat trickling down his face. It was a close call and, luckily, it was just close enough to break him...

I SEE YOU HAVE FINALLY AWOKEN. HOW LONG-AWAITED OUR FIRST MEETING IS. I AM GOEMON, FAMED ROBINHOOD OF JAPAN. THE PLEASURE IS ALL YOURS, OF THIS I HAVE NO DOUBTS. LET US NOW BE ONE AS WE TAKE BACK THE RICHES THEY’VE STOLEN AND GIVE THEM TO THOSE IN NEED.

Schrrip...

New Confidant Unlocked: Emperor *ੈ Shen Ricky

“I assume that never gets any easier to watch,” Jiwoong whispers to you, wincing in horror.

You shake your head solemnly. “Never.”

A slow, dark laugh draws your attention back to Ricky, still pinned against the wall of safes. He grabs the glaive by its handle and rips it out of the wall, shoving it through the guards’ shadowy head.

The guard disappears in a cloud of black smoke, revealing Ricky in a spotted cat mask. You help surround CFO Lee, smirking at Ricky as he takes control like a natural. He extends his hands artfully, almost like he’s about to paint across a canvas.

“Keynes, Hamilton, Li Ka-shing... Lee Jungil,” Ricky says, eyeing CFO Lee like he’s prey. “What do these men have in common?”

CFO Lee gulps. “We--... We’re all finance guys?”

Ricky smiles.

And you’re all dead men. ‧ ₊ ✫ ˚・

A blast of thick, black paint pours from Ricky’s fingers, coating CFO Lee entirely. He begins to cry for help as the paint leaks into his mouth and eyes. No one moves.

New Skill Unlocked: True Artist's Grace ᝰ.ᐟ

“You-’ll--... you’ll pay for this,” CFO sputters as paint drips down his throat, liquid body collapsing to the ground. “You’ll--... Pay...”

Only a black puddle of paint is left in front of you.

“Ricky,” you call, running over to him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he answers quietly, eyes devoid of emotion. He looks completely drained. “Can we just--... can we just leave this place? Whatever it is?”

You nod. “Yeah, I think it’s about time we head out. Back to the utility closet.”

When you finally finish explaining everything to Ricky, he stares straight ahead at the Han River as you sit parked at the overlook in your car.

“Why did you pick me?” He asks suddenly.

You tilt your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, surely there were better choices of members to get involved,” he reasons with a shrug. “Taerae, Hanbin-- Matthew gets here Sunday. They’ve all been far nicer to you in the past few months than I have. So why me?”

“Honestly?” You offer, bracing for his reaction. “We need medicine and supplies if we’re gonna do this. Luckily, you didn’t get hurt in there but... Last time, Yujin took a real beating. I was incredibly hesitant, but he suggested that we bring you on board because we don’t have the money to get it ourselves.”

Ricky chuckles to himself sadly. “I appreciate the lack of sugar-coating.”

“But I’m really, really glad we did choose you, because--.”

“I’ll do it,” Ricky cuts you off. “I’ll help you. So save the theatrics for someone who wants them.”

You look down at your lap awkwardly.

“In exchange for a favor,” he adds quickly. You look up to find him smirking at you.

“I don’t like that look,” you say, grimacing. “But fine. What do you want?”

“I’ve been feeling like my art has really suffered since last year. Between running the club and helping with my father’s business in China, I haven’t had time to return to the basics like I should,” he explains.

“Where is this going?” You ask, growing annoyed.

“Will you be my model tomorrow evening?” Ricky asks, charming eyes staring back at you. “I’ll be focusing on perfecting... the human form.”

“EW!” You squeal, smacking his shoulder. He winces a little too hard and you consider criticizing his theatrics. “You are so disgusting.”

He laughs genuinely now. “I was right: the look on your face is, in fact, priceless. I don’t actually need any favors from you. I’m in. But if you wanna come by my studio tomorrow evening and be a fully-clothed model for me, you’re more than welcome. I--... I’d really like to--...”

“I’d really like to catch up with you, too, Ricky,” you finish for him, whether it’s what he was going to say or not. And you mean it.

The only problem is...

You told Yujin that you’d treat him to dinner tomorrow night.

⁺⋆✰ Chapter Choice ✰⋆⁺

It's up to you, Player. Will you choose... Please note that only readers that are Yujin’s age/minors should choose Yujin, as this choice will have slight romantic elements. Thank you!

CHOICE 1: Dinner with Yujin

CHOICE 2: Paint with Ricky

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