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⠀ HAN⠀SAEYEON、https://t.co/k5ENZlmMyw
⠀ A.K.A⠀https://t.co/nJA0LXFAsC
˚₊·♥︎⁀➷⠀member of the korean—english criminal organization, “the black serpents”. younger sister to the right-hand, han saeyeong. known for her ability to kill using only a butterfly knife.
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“we protect one another, smart-arse,” she mutters sharply, moving a bloodstained hand to clasp his own as the medics get to work. she knows he might break her hand from how tight he squeezes from the pain, but better a broken hand than than an untreated bullet wound.
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“i’m supposed to be the one protecting you,” he laughs weakly, the sound roughened by the taste of blood lingering in his mouth. he barely reacts when the anaesthetic is pressed into the skin near the wound, &.
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“even with a gunshot wound, you’re thinking about the business,” she sighs in exasperation, getting him onto a spare bed so that he can be treated, pressing down on the wound carefully to apply pressure while nurses ready the stitches and anesthetic.
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“you being there wouldn’t have changed much,” he grits out, the words breaking into a sharp hiss when the men supporting him jostle him too roughly. pain ripples through him in heavy waves, each breath forced.
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“you fucking idiot,” she whispers, looking down at the blood soaking her clothes. “this is why i told you to let me go with you.”
several men swoop in to assist, helping her guide him to the medical wing.
“they’re not getting away with this,” she seethes,
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“was discussin’ business,” the words drag themselves out between gritted teeth, strained and rough with pain. he sways where he stands, unsteady, leaning subtly into her presence as though anchoring himself there.
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she is the first to notice, surging forward to catch him in her arms to stabilize him, already calling for the others to come to their aid.
“fucking hell,” she mutters with a sharp breath, turning her attention back to the wounded man, “who did this to you?”
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he stumbles through the front door, breath laboured. blood seeps relentlessly between his fingers where his hand presses desperately against the gunshot wound in his stomach, staining fabric and skin alike as he struggles to stay upright.
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“unless,” she muses thoughtfully, pointing to an underground pathway going through the layout of the manor. “it’s going through undetected because we have a rat in our midst.”
fingers drum quietly upon the wooden table, analyzing every print of the map.
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“some things aren’t adding up,” he responds, shuffling through the papers and maps, squinting down at the messy scribbles. “there’s got to be a tunnel somewhere for them to be able to smuggle the weapons through our turf undetected.”
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“you haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” she asks, briefly turning back to him as she closes a drawer, her charcoal eyes holding the faintest bit of sympathy as she meets his gaze.
“why’s that?”
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jolts awake immediately, blinking away his sleep rapidly. “ah … ”
his hand drifts toward the mug, fingers curling around its warmth as he lifts it to his lips for a measured sip. “ … thank you.”
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placing a mug of coffee on his desk as she passes into his office.
“wake up,” she utters, voice calm but firm as she stores away a few documents. “my brother may be less kind than i am if he finds you snoring over your work.”
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