《The Making of a More Violent World》 Bait_Ch01 His head jerked upwards, and his eyes opened to a spinning, white ceiling as he woke up from an untimed nap. His chair shook, but his head was too much in a muck to question it. Soon, the grogginess dissipated, allowing him to turn his head to see whoever kept breathing loudly. That person was his wife, who remained passed out in the seat adjoined to his. A thin sheet covered her head. He wondered how she could breathe beneath the fabric, sleeping as deep as she did. He peered through the reinforced window, seeing that it was nighttime in whatever country they were flying above. He and his wife were on a commercial flight to the charming state of Colorado. A yawn escaped his breath as he took in the dully-lit LCD monitor built on the back of the headrest in front of him. It displayed "Time to Destination: 10:33," which hovered over shadowy texts; the screen burns from a past flight time. His knees cracked under his shifting weight as he stood upright. He stretched with a guttural groan, fists hitting the overhead compartments. Without checking to see if he woke anyone up, he brushed past his wife''s knees and made a trip to the toilet. He soon returned to his seat, once again leaning back into the ratty, old chair without so much as a grunt at the hardness that dug into his back. He pondered of what he had in store for the tools tucked away in his luggage; each thought none too insignificant to be unscrambled. He recalled the events earlier this morning of a relaxed and unhurried breakfast. After that, they had entered a waiting uber outside their gate. Then, he had pushed his wife to make haste once they lined up inside airport security. And finally, their rushed actions to and from the TSA checkpoint scanners. Perhaps, he did not want to miss their flight, so as his wife believed. A faint but quite clear ''Help'' picked up in his ears. At once, he ripped the sheet off his wife''s head, but she was still asleep. He dropped the damp and cooling fabric onto her lap with a dissatisfied grimace. His gray-blue eyes narrowed as he left his seat, determined to find the source of that noise. He didn''t need to convince himself otherwise because he was sure he heard it. He walked down the carpeted aisle, scanning the sleeping figures for whoever had spoken up. Then he saw her, or more specifically, her back. A woman was straddling a man''s lap. His manner remained unchanged, noticing they were having a make out session, if people still used that slang nowadays. The man underneath her was choking, presumably from receiving her working tongue deep within the tresses of his throat. But the seated man didn''t stop her. He didn''t think the guy could because he wore a sleep mask, which hid his expression, his sight, and most of all, his control in this kinky play. He couldn''t see the guy''s hands from where he was standing in the aisle, but he fantasized the blindfolded male''s hands tied, unable to touch her. He stared at them without any respect for their non-private in-flight session. Warmth brushed his upper lip with each heavier breath, and his member pressed in attention to his thighs. The couple was in an aisle seat, and anyone could be watching the free show! But as he looked past them to find other possible onlookers, there were only dozed-off passengers to the ends of the plane. Then, who was the one who cried for help? Suddenly, the woman climbed off of the still-blindfolded man. Her average height loomed over her seated lover as black hair fell from her shoulders in pitiful, thin waves. She spun, looking over the shoulders of the sleeping persons across the aisle. With one glance, a single eyebrow of his raised in disgust at the sight of her. He thought of the phone in his left pocket and imagined himself taking a still image of the white, sunken face flushed with blue. It seemed like she was wearing a second skin underneath, barely concealing the actual monster inside. Her eyes were devoid of active movement; the pupils firmly set like a corpse''s. Her lips were pulled forward an inch, perhaps so that mouth could sink further inward to chosen prey. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He was sure no one else had a photo of what he was seeing, but whether to take the picture or not was a short-lived dilemma. He would be turned off if he saw that image pop up while scrolling through his curated photo albums. And so his phone stayed tucked away without use. He was neutral when the woman walked towards the rear of the plane. He did not remember what happened afterward. _________________ He and his wife returned to their stately home, luggage in tow. They thanked the babysitter for taking care of their baby daughter while they were away. After a brief conversation with the babysitter, they waved her off at their front door. He took a moment to see how the baby was doing in the mother''s arms. He smiled at the sleeping baby girl and left the both of them to get a cup of water. At the kitchen sink, he turned on the tap and filled himself a mug of lukewarm water. He faced the window above the sink and watched the sunset drag away the evening light, allowing the darkness to settle in the rays'' place. Still, his mug was aglow from the kitchen''s overhead light. He raised the mug to take a sip but stopped before it reached his lips, lowering it to the exact tilt it was when he noticed it. A side of the glossy white mug was painted with the shadow of someone else. He cocked his head at the obsidian, thick being that silently stood in his kitchen doorway. Its filled-out body was built like the door his kitchen was supposed to have. With boulders for legs, mountains for arms, and sand dunes for pecs, its shape was human enough that it was almost believable. However, its color was darker than black, but what its shade covered did not appear to be skin. Ethereal, solid, sublime; all are adjectives that explain much, yet he could not sort this being in a perfect category of his mind''s choosing. It was gone. What he saw could have been a trick of the light, but no one truly believes that saying. Perhaps, he had a waking fever dream as the more convincible explanation. Or that what he saw was a trace of his desires released into the trails of his sight. He took another sip of the too tepid water, refilling the cup to half-empty. _________________ The wife startled awake, her arms holding fast to her crying baby. She cooed, "It''s okay, you''re okay." She remembered she had sat down with the baby, and her husband came over, his body weight leaning against the baby, to kiss her. She blushed at the memory, regretting that she had pushed him away when his hands tugged at her body. "Not in front of the baby, dear," she had whispered. She recalled watching him leave without a word to their bedroom. The door to the master bedroom opened as she stepped inside. She saw her husband lying in their bed, his face underneath an open book. She crept closer to her husband with hurried steps and sat on her side of the bed. She slinked closer within reach of him, the urge to kiss him too great. She was feeling hungry for a taste of him, sexually. And she recognized a heated longing within her cavernous belly to be filled up like when she was with child. Her face leaned over his head, watching as the book slipped off her husband''s face on gravity''s part. But she saw his eyes were wide awake. ...Hus...ban... she tried to speak, words distorting within herself, not coming out. An ax swung, hacking her head into two. Bait_Ch02 ¡°Yes, police, I just saw a young man leave my neighbor¡¯s house with a baby in his hands ¡­ What do you mean that¡¯s normal? It¡¯s two in the morning, and some strange man is driving off with someone¡¯s baby! ¡­ If that man is the father, then where is the mother? This is a kidnapping! ¡­ Yes, I rang the doorbell, no one answered.¡±
He yawned, still keeping his hands on the wheel like a good driver should. He held a softer gaze due to the unshed tears that brimmed in his eyes. Even as he surveilled the road from side-to-side for potential obstacles, not a single drop spilled onto his prominent cheekbones. His car cruised along the recently paved road, allowing the wheels to gently roll over hills of the darkest black asphalt. He soon pulled up to his street address and was greeted with a commotion of flashing blue and red lights from the several cop cars that were parked haphazardly along the wide street. He couldn¡¯t stop in the middle of the road as if he were a spectator to the turmoil. And so, he drove on, passing parked police cars without a fuss. A house was singled out by a cop car, which sat on the front lawn, menacingly. Flattened grass trails were left in the wake of the intruding vehicle there. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, allowing blue and red to bounce off his bulging hand veins.¡°Hippity hoppity, I am leaving the crime scene-ery,¡± a poorly construed rhyme he murmured when his car reached the other end of the street. His car came to a rolling stop before the hinged barrier that enclosed the gated community. Without further ado, the car inched forward into range of the scanner that would automatically react to the keycard inside his glove box. But as the gates moved to open, they stopped halfway. Although, the malfunctioned gates would not open further with his keycard, he did have a two-ton vehicle that could force its way through. But that kind of haste would spell unwanted attention to himself from the officers in the vicinity. Against that risk, he grabbed the leather duffle bag from the seat next to him, while his other hand popped the door open. He stepped outside, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He swung the bag¡¯s strap over his head, readying himself before he would proceed to slip through the gates on foot. The whine of sirens blared to attention from just behind him. The back of his ironed dress shirt was a canvas for unwanted color; from the glare of white emitted from another car¡¯s high beams, to the splotches of blue and red that danced over his now inanimate body. ¡°Hands up where I can see them,¡± the police car¡¯s PA system blasted, followed by a crinkle of static that trailed off at the end of the officer¡¯s command. There was an unmistakable pop of a car door opening. ¡°Turn around,¡± a male officer shouted. He cautiously faced the officer, his eyes meeting the gun¡¯s attached flashlight beam. It was the vision many have seen before. The final act, or the ending performance that closes the curtain of liberty over their eyes, as someone wanted, as someone who is marked for life. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± the male officer was quieter this time, though his warning carried the same intent. A second officer roughly took both his wrists and stuffed him cuffs. The cop tightened the cuffs unapologetically around his thick wrists, ¡°You have the right to remain silent. Anything you ¡­¡± He shut his own ears at that. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
He sat on the cold metal bar, barely able to twiddle his thumbs with his tied hands. Hours seemed to have passed since he was put in this holding cell. It was his first time inside a police station, and just like everyone else who was in his place, he would like out. The slight tilt of his head forward was the final push for several strands of his gelled hair to fall out of place. Those that brushed his forehead, casted streaks of unreadable shadows that split his upper face. Though the light from his strained eyes were not blanketed as he glowered at the wall. His eyes held no prey to hunt at the moment, yet still a majestic tiger within its glass cage nonetheless. Officers by the dozens worked in this building¡¯s floor. They paced back and forth, slamming cabinets and doors open or shut. The hum of fans rustled stacks of papers, atypical of any office setting. Foot steps can be heard approaching his cell amidst all the bustle. A bearded elderly man unlocked his cell door, ¡°Get up.¡± He moved to stand, taking tentative steps toward the opened gap. As he stepped under the fluorescent light, he slammed into the officer with all the might his shoulder could muster, and all the lesser momentum his restrained hands could allow. The old man staggered and tipped onto the floor, giving an ¡°oof¡± as he landed on his back. ¡­ Except this scene was a vision of what could have been. It never happened. It was nearly impossible make an escape from a modern fortress of justice teeming with officers without a solid plan and multiple backups ready. He had resigned to his fate of a life ruined. All he could hope for was the chance that the police would not charge him and let him go scot-free. The cop pulled him to a different room, bare, save for a table and two chairs. On the wall, there was a large, definitely not inconspicuous mirror overlooking the table. The only light source the room had to offer was the single dim bulb that hanged low by a black wire. ¡°Wait here,¡± the graying cop gruffly said as he closed the door from the outside. He sat on the edge of a pulled-out chair. He could feel an ominous aura coming from the mirror, but he paid no more mind to it, choosing to close his eyes while he waited. The door opened again, and someone walked in, their shoes squeaking along the way. He heard the slap of hands on the table. He returned the assault to his ears with a neutral gaze of his own as he opened his eyes to see a young man in a white dress shirt. ¡°I¡¯m giving you the easy choice of no consequence to me, but I can¡¯t guarantee the same for you. If you explain your crimes, I can go home. And yes, you heard that right,¡± the rust-haired man nonchalantly voiced. He stared blankly at the other, licking his lips as if he was going to answer. ¡°You¡¯re here for a reason. Confess,¡± he remained standing with his palms faced down on the table. His face leaned forward, then cocking his head as if to say, ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Despite how sexy the officer was while interrogating him, he choose to keep quiet about that thought to himself. He wanted to playfully flirt with the rust-haired man, but not in this situation where being inappropriate might land him in the slammer for no other reason besides that. Instead, he shifted his head towards his side, seeing past his own reflection in the mirror. ¡°I could wait all day, but I don¡¯t want to do that,¡± his lips pressed together into a thin line. The beginnings of a permanent crease dug into his forehead. The stalemate continued with neither side budging in their resolve. Then, the door clicked open, and an officer called from the doorway, ¡°Detective Leon, I¡¯ll take it from here.¡± Leon''s face shifted into something unreadable as his hands finally raised off the table, ¡°Yeah, yeah, he¡¯s all yours.¡± He stepped out into the hallway. He was confused at this turn of events. Granted, he didn¡¯t know much about the justice system, but his case seemed weird. They let him off the interrogation easily, so maybe they would let him go? His heart pounded with unrestrained glee at the thought of his release.
A stark white door shut behind him with a heavy bang. Everything in this tiny windowless room screamed the makings of insanity; from the glossy walls that endlessly reflect the bulb¡¯s white light, to the fully metal toilet directly facing the cot. There was no indication of time passing the moment the door closed him off from the conventions of everyday life. Where they had put him couldn¡¯t be called a holding cell or prison. It could be the lowest circle of hell, and he¡¯d refuse to believe otherwise. Was this even legal? he thought to himself. His back slid down against the door. He curled his face to his knees and closed his eyes, but light still reached him. In a corner of the room, small figures of thick shadows wiggled into existence. But in this stark white and bright room, there could be no shadows. Bait_Ch03 He wanted to believe that the room he was confined in was bigger than it actually was. He smushed himself into a corner, only to see that the other corner across from him wasn''t far enough. He distinctly knew something was wrong because his head was heavy enough to feel it happening. His neck was slipping away from the position of least resistance. And he was slowly losing his breath and clarity, like he had just dive-bombed into a pool without closing his eyes at the rushing of water. They were going to let him out at anytime now. The door would open, he knew that. After all, a modern and lawful society wouldn¡¯t treat him this severe of a punishment even if he was a criminal. Otherwise, the general public would go crazy at the news of any unjust treatment to one of their own. But as time continued for everyone equally; it was especially harsh on him in this clock-less and windowless room. He was put away like a used toy into a storage unit, forgotten until someone decides to rummage through the place for unknown treasures. He painfully wanted to run up to the door, pounding like a madman. To confess all the sins the police wanted to hear from him. If only to move the process forward, expediting himself to prison, then so be it. However, there would be no going back on that decision. He cleaned up the murder scene in his bedroom, and removed the body. There shouldn¡¯t be any evidence for him to be done in. I¡¯m perfect, I¡¯m perfect ¡­ p¡¯fect ¡­ ¡®ect ¡­ m. Those words monotonously bubbled in his head, coming undone, making less and less sense as he continued holding his own together. Without warning, the door whined open. ¡°Come with me,¡± someone called out. He stood up without any hesitation and followed in step of the officer. They passed though halls, the same desk area where he first arrived, and then out through the main entrance. He wasn¡¯t being led out in cuffs like how a convicted criminal should be while transferring somewhere else. It was almost as if he was a normal citizen leaving the police station after filing a report. He sat in the backseat of a cop car, but where was this officer taking him? The cop wasn¡¯t too interested in making conversation and just drove silently into a familiar neighborhood. The officer opened the door, ¡°Get out.¡± He stepped out of the vehicle, his back to the car as it sped away. He could see in this brightly lit street, from the houses armed with light fixtures that point directly into their neighbors¡¯ properties, that the door to his house was busted open. Held upright by one of its hinges; but some people would call it broken, nonetheless. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He let himself in. The foyer and the decorations were just as he had left them. He made a beeline to the bedroom. As expected, the body was missing, right where he had taken it away. His unpacked suitcase was missing as well, but that wasn¡¯t from his own doing. He was disappointed because he specifically came back to this house twice just to retrieve it. He searched through the closet for a bag and folded several of his clothes neatly inside. With the clothes on his back and more clothes in his backpack, there were no more belongings of his left to take. He walked down the stairs but paused mid-step. Water was running somewhere in the house, followed by the squeak of fancy shoes on tiled floors. Perhaps, the ghost of his wife was cooking dinner at one in the morning. He reached the foyer without taking one look behind him. ¡°Are you just going to leave without kissing me goodbye?¡± a smooth, rich voice called out. He stilled, not expecting a confrontation. He turned around, ¡°Bye honey, I¡¯m leaving for work. Make sure dinner is ready when I get back.¡± An athletic man with gelled black hair chuckled, ¡°I take it you¡¯re not staying around to chat?¡± ¡°No need. I¡¯m going,¡± he wanted to get out of there. ¡°I was going to tell you that I¡¯m the reason you don¡¯t have a record with the police. I¡¯m going to be taking your thanks right now,¡± the unnamed man perked up while expecting a reply. ¡°Nobody these days care for unnecessary lip service,¡± he shook his head. ¡°I, indeed wanted to hear your gratitude, but I guess, I¡¯d rather much take your time: 24/7 of it for the rest of your life,¡± the man stated without so much of a stutter. ¡°You¡¯re really weird, you know that?¡± he huffed out. ¡°I¡¯m one of a kind, special, handsome. Oh, and I work with an organization that deals with monsters like the one you killed. But that last part isn¡¯t important. See my good looks? I can see you begging to be friends with me because of that. But we can be work buddies for now.¡± ¡°¡­¡± he didn¡¯t know what to say at that. The admittedly handsome man continued, ¡°You¡¯re cascading a mysterious aura belonging to a villain with a backstory, and you have personalities flipping like a dimmer switch that a child got their hands on. It has to be you. Oh, and you¡¯re super attractive. That last part is the most important to us making a team.¡± ¡°I already feel like I don¡¯t get to say ''no'' to this.¡± After all, he concluded that it was strange how the police let him go. They had already seen the contents of the suitcase, and most likely suspected him of his missing wife and baby. ¡°Alright I¡¯ll do it.¡± ¡°Great!" the man clapped. "I¡¯m Shin Gangaji. Nice to work with you, Hansen Yohan,¡± he offered his blemish-free hand. ¡°What sort of parents named you ¡®puppy?¡¯¡± he complained but shook his hand to that. They were smiling at each other, but Hansen knew it wouldn¡¯t work out to how his captor wanted him. While investigating these monsters, that is when the opportunity of an "unfortunate accident," would befall, and he would leave this puppy dead in the ditch. And once again, he''d be untraceable as he would be starting anew with a family somewhere in the world. Bait_Ch04 Hansen flopped on top of the seedy bed that the rundown inn they were staying in had all but provided for. The mysterious man he tagged along with, also known as his kidnapper Shin, tackled him, awhile squeezing the breath out of him. ¡°Get off me, dude!¡± Hansen struggled to tell him off, his mouth full of the invisible dust mites that were sure to be there. ¡°You looked like you had fun jumping on the bed. I did the same,¡± Shin chuckled while rubbing his nose on the side of Hansen¡¯s neck. ¡°Excusing your sus moves with childish antics at the same time. Unbelievable,¡± Hansen grumbled at his captor. The room they rented for the night was damaged and full of neglect by the careless visitors who stayed before them. There wasn¡¯t a toilet or sink, but that was expected, given that they were charged twenty dollars; all paid upfront with cash, no credit, and no questions asked. Strangely to the both of them, they didn¡¯t mind this sort of temporary living situation. Shin smiled, ¡°This is exciting. I¡¯ve never been on a road trip with someone. This is like a vacation for broke couples on their honeymoon.¡± ¡°Was the last part needed to be said?¡± Hansen twisted his neck to glare at Shin. It was his final effort to show his discontent because his initial struggle against the bigger man had barely budged Shin¡¯s body. For the past few days, they traveled south. Hansen followed Shin as his assistant, he believed? Many questions went through his mind, being the introspective and quiet person he is. He wondered who had chosen him to work with Shin? What qualifications he had that Shin¡¯s employers required in this line of work? What work even he was supposed to do? He was confident he could pick up new abilities if needed, but from the lack of communication from Shin, that man didn¡¯t seem troubled to rely on Hansen for anything. He didn¡¯t want to ask Shin because that guy would either talk in circles or sneak in a sus comment at every chance to annoy him. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. He had been observing Shin without any air of modesty, just blatantly staring at this man for his habits and ticks. It was all because this man didn¡¯t give him anything to do otherwise. His eyes were full of expectations, but the man only smiled at him every time. Not once did Shin tell him to stop with his staring. He was stuck with a guy who was similar to him and rarely spoke. Little about himself, and even less about what Hansen could do. As if Shin could read his thoughts, Shin rummaged the inside of his jacket, ¡°Tomorrow we¡¯ll be tailing a guy named Ed Troy,¡± he placed a string tie envelope next to Hansen¡¯s head on the bed. ¡°Read up on his deets and tell me what you think about him.¡± Hansen skimmed through the pages inside. The suspect seemed to be a high-profile man with a strong position in his hometown; not only that, Ed also comes from a strong lineage and has recently tied the knot with someone from another affluential family. ¡°So, why are we going after this guy?¡± Hansen brought up upon sliding the pages back into the envelope. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious, he¡¯s suspected by one of our guys to be one of those converted monsters. We¡¯re here to make sure it¡¯s one of them before we can destroy it,¡± Shin patted him on the shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be best for the job. We¡¯re two guys who are not from around these southern parts.¡± Shin pushed himself up and sat on the only chair at the foot of the dingy mattress. ¡°I¡¯m used to this type of work. I don¡¯t know about you. Try not to blow our cover.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t. You said you needed me,¡± Hansen rolled over to see Shin¡¯s reaction. Shin was nodding off with his arm crossed. The chair he sat on rocked, not because it was a rocking chair, but because of the poorly made legs that were factory assembled. Hansen sighed into the bed. He was relieved that he finally had some clue of their mission after days of following Shin like a lost puppy. Shin hadn¡¯t revealed much, but that much was enough to ease Hansen¡¯s restlessness. After all, everything Hansen does is with a goal, even if it collided with someone else¡¯s. Hansen stared at Shin to make sure that man was asleep. But even if Shin was in deep sleep, that wouldn¡¯t matter. A few nights ago, Hansen tried escaping out of a similar inn, but Shin somehow had woken up just before he could unlock the door. Hansen gripped his hands as if something was missing between his fingers. He stared at the window just eye-level to the bed. It was another night of his confinement. Bait_Ch05 This side of town had a quaint charm from the washed reds, grays, and blues that alternated within the cobblestone pavement and the short buildings. Townsfolk walked from building to building for their daily necessities. Cars slowed for the people jaywalking from any direction. The atmosphere was far livelier than what Shin and Hansen had experienced during their stay at the inn on the town¡¯s border. A number of specialized and cozy shops are situated side-by-side in this residential neighborhood. This town doesn¡¯t have a place for super-centers to compete against small businesses here. It was past 8 am, and they came to a french-style cafe to have breakfast. The outdoor setup was lovely from the many bistro tables bestrewed on the boundary between the cafe and the sidewalk. Shin was reading a newspaper while sipping on an americano served in a heavy mug. His ham and cheese croissant sandwich was left half-eaten on his cooling plate. On the other hand, Hansen had almost devoured a slice of quiche that was slightly greasy than he had hoped. Hansen needed a hot tea to wash away the stickiness inside his throat. It seemed like many of the townsfolk had the same idea of getting breakfast in this spot. There were only couples that sat outside. Among them was the suspect Ed Troy who was dining with his wife. From what Hansen read, the suspect eats at this cafe every Tuesday and Thursday unless Ed had something important in his schedule. ¡°So, are we just going to watch him all day?¡± Hansen spoke softly. They sat at a table far enough from earshot of the suspect, but Hansen wanted to be careful. ¡°We¡¯re going to see if he makes any unusual moves. Our team had his typical schedule mapped out with the help of his ex-secretary and cams,¡± Shin held onto his drink. ¡°I told you if we¡¯re following him all day, he will definitely recognize us at some point. It¡¯s already strange that two guys are having breakfast like this,¡± Hansen placed his fork and knife beside his empty plate. ¡°People are indeed staring at us, but mostly, I believe people are astounded by your charm,¡± Shin closed his eyes and smiled into his mug. He slowly sipped in a pose that was photograph worthy. Contrary to his words, the passerby¡¯s walked slower after witnessing the elegant man just having his coffee. Hansen didn¡¯t bother giving that man more attention. He glanced at Ed Troy again. Several customers from the cafe had asked for Ed¡¯s picture. A few wanted the wife in the shot too. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! According to the suspect¡¯s information, Ed Troy was known in this town as a philanthropist who invested money to build out the neighborhoods. He also provided jobs within the tourism business he owns. He increased his influence and made this town a hotspot for getaways and trips. He was a young man in his twenties, and although married, many women still hit on him. Yes, that last part was true as far as Hansen could tell. ¡ª The stalking mission moved location to a nearby park. Hansen and Shin sat together on one of the many benches overlooking a large fountain. The water pumping up into the air made loud sounds unnatural to a waterfall. Shin looked at Hansen expectedly, ¡°Do you have a coin that I can toss into the fountain?¡± ¡°You¡¯re my boss, you¡¯re supposed to be the one with the money. Wait, we¡¯re on a mission, why are you trying to have fun? This isn¡¯t actually a date.¡± Hansen twitched. Shin shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t have any change.¡± ¡ª ¡°Reservation for Jake Kim,¡± Shin spoke politely to the buttoned-up man awaiting guests. ¡°Let me see ¡­ Ah yes, right this way Mr. Kim,¡± the staff member nodded. Hansen raised an eyebrow at ¡®Jake,¡¯ but the other man ignored him and followed the staff member. Shin pulled Hansen¡¯s chair out for him and seated himself after. Hansen noticed immediately that Ed Troy and his wife were already dining on the opposite side of the restaurant. They were served white wine and a course meal. Hansen enjoyed every bite and drank his glass that was constantly refilled by the attentive waitstaff. However, much of his drink ended up spilling onto the white-clothed table. ¡°I said it before and I¡¯ll say it again, this is a sham, a ruse! You pretend we¡¯re on a mission just so you can have a date with me, and then end it with a wine and dine,¡± Hansen joked. ¡°That¡¯s enough drinking for you,¡± Shin reached for Hansen¡¯s glass. ¡°As much as I am amused with this side of you, I prefer your more furtive and vulnerable side.¡± ¡°I am not vulnerable,¡± Hansen breathed out. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you,¡± Shin cut into the mashed potatoes with his knife. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been watching you too,¡± Hansen brushed off. ¡° ¡­ I know,¡± Shin smiled after a pensive pause. Hansen suddenly remembered where he was at. He glanced at where the suspect and his wife dined, meeting the eyes of Ed Troy. The philanthropist said a word to his wife and stood up. He made his way over to Hansen¡¯s and Shin¡¯s table without breaking eye contact with Hansen. Ed Troy would reach their table in less than a minute, but Hansen was slightly buzzed, so he kept thinking. Hansen wanted to look back at Shin to warn him with his eyes. However, he was stuck. All Hansen could focus on was the murmurs within the restaurant getting louder as the approaching man made a beeline to their table. Bait_Ch06 Hansen stretched his left leg from underneath the table to tap at Shin¡¯s shin, discreetly. ¡°Drinking really brings out the flirt part of your ego,¡± Shin pulled Yohan¡¯s glass towards himself, which only made Yohan¡¯s grip tighten. ¡°Not the time, bud¡± Yohan hissed. He side-eyed urgently at the man fast approaching their table. ¡°Gentlemen, how are we all doing tonight? Their target, Ed introduced himself. ¡°Oh, I presume that I am not interrupting your date night?¡± Yohan bit his lip and flashed a million-dollar smile, ¡°We are doing well tonight, sir. My partner and I have had a lovely day in this town.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve noticed,¡± Ed let out a chuckle. ¡°After all, you fellows have been following me around all day.¡± Shin¡¯s eyebrow slightly twitched at that comment, yet he maintained his silence. And Yohan looked past Shin, rather focusing on the background clinking of silverware from the other diners. ¡°¡­ Which is why you two must have been reading my guide on the perfect date in Peonburg Town!¡± Ed laughed out loud. ¡°It¡¯s the new hottest release on my website, visitpeonburgtown.travel all about the places to visit in a single day. It starts with breakfast at Caf¨¦ Lucein; next is a stroll at Gaise Park for birdwatching; and you fellows are here to experience fine dining at Krasnaya.¡± ¡°We follow that page, sir,¡± Yohan nodded at the man. ¡°Then you must know what is the next activity on my guide,¡± Ed wiggled his eyebrows. Yohan was in his thoughts for a second, remembering what he shouted at Shin earlier, ¡°It¡¯s se-!¡± Shin cleared his throat interrupting Yohan, ¡°A late night showing, was it?¡± ¡°That is correct, my good man,¡± Ed clapped his hands together in delight. ¡°And my lovely wife and I just happened to be heading over there right now. We can make this a double date if you two are willing to mingle.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°We would be charmed to tag along,¡± Yohan agreed wholeheartedly. He looked over to where Ed and his wife were sitting, meeting the eyes of said wife. She let out a relaxed smile and waved at him with a dainty hand.
They settled on outdoor lounge chairs that were prepared for the showing tonight. String lights wrapped around the fall foliage, casting an orange glow, which complimented the yellow and orange leaves. In between the largest trees lies a giant white screen, empty of any pixels. Yohan got himself a plain popcorn without any salt all to himself, and of course, he didn¡¯t care to ask his partner if he wanted anything. The show was starting, and the scene began with bystanders blankly staring at a boy who had tripped and fallen into the river. It seemed the boy was seconds before drowning as his head had finally submerged. Alas, the main character came to his aid. The sound of cheers yipped from the bystanders once the hero raised the boy from the watery prison. ¡°You¡¯re actually paying attention to this cheesy ass movie,¡± Yohan whispered to Shin. ¡°I think it¡¯s interesting if you view this scene from the hero¡¯s perspective, that saving the boy hadn¡¯t impacted the movie at all. It¡¯s at most an everything thing to him since it¡¯s just a minor scene to be forgotten by everyone. But no one takes a second thought at the boy¡¯s perspective. How that one scene might mean the entire world to him, no matter what happens next in the movie. ¡°It¡¯s the opening, hero does what heroes do. The victim does what the victim does. Life moves on,¡± Yohan brushed Shin aside. The movie continued on, exploring the hero¡¯s dilemmas and adventures. The movie was gory and held too many cliches for it to be bearable to watch. Shin began once again at an entirely different scene, ¡°The boy is just another nameless character that the main character saved, all for his ego. After all, this is the main character¡¯s movie, not the boy¡¯s.¡± Yohan¡¯s fingertips reached the bottom of the dry popcorn bucket. That marks one less task Yohan had to worry about. Still, Yohan¡¯s attention had never left the couple sitting next to them. The wife stood up after a dramatic scene transitioned into one filled with mass murder. ¡°Follow her.¡± Shin¡¯s eyes never left the screen. ¡°Bruh, why don¡¯t you follow her? You know how creepy it is to suggest some strange man follow a woman anywhere?¡± Yohan exasperated. ¡°You had eyes for me all night, so you wouldn¡¯t know that she ¡­¡± Shin paused. ¡°Yes, she¡¯s been eyeing me since we were at the restaurant, but so have many married women; what¡¯s new?¡± ¡°Have fun,¡± Shin shrugged.