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“I didn’t know I was expecting visitors today.” Christopher Reed leans against his doorframe and looks unimpressed at the deputy director of the Hunter’s Association. He’s not expecting any visitors because there aren’t supposed to be any visitors. Not today. He even sent away most of his staff, keeping only those vital to keeping the day-to-day work of the mansion.
“Long time no see, Deputy Director, Madame Selner,” he waves a hand lazily. He’s dressed in his pajamas from yesterday- hastily thrown on- and a pair of crocs that he uses around the house. It’s hardly his fault he’s not dressed for company. God knows he doesn’t want company, so if they’re offended at this clothing choice then all the better.
“We have urgent business to discuss. Could you have everyone leave us?” The middle aged man says.
Chris shrugs. He doesn’t bother telling them that everyone has already left, not when he’d need to provide a reason for that afterwards.
Well, he’d have to lie, and he doesn’t feel like doing so this early in the morning. But just to be safe, he waves a maid over and whispers, “Do not let anyone near my room until those two have left.” He’s pissed as it is having to leave his actually expected visitor alone, and he might actually set something on fire if either of them- or anyone, really- barges into his room unannounced.
“Understood, sir,” she says equally quietly.
“What business brings you two to this distant abode of mine? If you’re here about the S-ranked gate that’s appeared somewhere in the East, let me make myself clear: I am not going,” Chris begins with a bit of agitation in his voice- the East is Scavengers’ territory. He won’t go anywhere near it; he’s not allowed to, not after he torched an entire mountain the last time Thomas and he sparred.
“I’m not here to discuss the gate, Mister Chris. We have an even bigger problem at hand,” Madame Selner says calmly. Her gaze drags curiously to the door where the maid disappeared to.
It surprises Chris sometimes, that even with scores of S-ranked Hunters indebted to her and practically the entire FBI at her command, she’d still address him by “Mister.” But what she says peaks his interest more than what she calls him. “A bigger problem than an S-ranked gate?” He raises an eyebrow. Now this he wants to hear.
“Mister Chris, you may be killed in the near future,” Selner says solemnly, her gaze steady as she gazes into his mana charged eyes.
She’s dead serious, and he can’t help but snarl, “Madame Selner, I’m eternally grateful for what you’ve done for me. However we’re not so close that we can joke around like this.” He feels his temper almost simmering just beneath the surface of his skin.
“Just who is supposed to kill whom?” he asks, his mana rising. The temperature of the room rises uncomfortably. The deputy starts sweating nervously, but Madame Selner is not fazed in the least.
“Recently, I had a dream about you,” she begins.
“Look here,” he interrupts, beyond caring if he’s rude. What’s rude is interrupting his day off with so much “by your leave” and then asking for everyone to be sent out as if it’s their own household.
“In the dream, you were surrounded by a group of men who…”
“You flew all the way out here to tell me this nonsense because of your dream ?” Chris gapes. “I know what you did before you Awakened- that you were a psychic, but I am a national level Hunter . Nobody can kill me.” Chris says resolutely, slamming his teacup on the saucer. It cracks. Pity. He actually paid a good deal of money to have this set hand crafted and flown in from England.
“In my dream,” she continues placidly, as if she was certain that Chris would not hurt her. She’s as right as she is wrong. He can snap her in two, but even his political cout isn’t as heavy as hers. He could kill her, but then he’d be banned from the United States permanently, and that isn’t something he’s willing to risk.
“Alright, alright,” he says holding up a hand, resigned but no less annoyed. “Then who exactly am I supposed to ask for help from to stop my imminent death?” He asks sarcastically.
“There might be someone who could help,” Norma Selner says contemplatively.
“Hunter Sung Jin-Woo. He may be able to protect you.”
Chris feels his brain stall at the unexpected answer. The heat of the room stops then sheepishly retreats. He tries not to glance at the door- to let his mind drift off elsewhere - but judging by the knowing look Madame Selner gives him (and the slight twitch of her lips)... maybe she’s actually psychic after all.
“Sung Jin-Woo, huh?” He says, suddenly feeling a bit awkward and out of place as the Deputy Director slips him a piece of paper with Jin-Woo’s phone number on it. He hasn’t felt this awkward since he was a kid; he thinks of his room, and the awkwardness triples.
He doesn’t say anything while he herds the two of them out, and it’s only when the door slams behind them does he actually open the paper.
This number is the correct one. And just how did the American Hunter’s Association have a Korean S-rank’s personal phone number? He crushes the paper in his hand and burns it to ash.
He won’t need to call Sung Jin-Woo. Not when he’s sleeping right down the hall.
As unlikely as it is for them to meet, they find each other from a series of unfortunate events.
They meet when Chris takes a trip to Seoul, Korea. It’s the tail end of his vacation, just off his spar with Thomas, and just about everyone from his guild to the association is desperate to put an ocean between the two of them.
He can’t imagine Europe wanting Thomas to destroy their historically preserved everything, so he’s the one who books a flight out of the country. He doesn’t even have to pay for it; the Association hands him their private jet and waves him off within a day. He shrugs and chugs a latte on his way out.
If there’s one thing he’s weak for, it’s caffeine in its various forms, so he decides to go on a tour to try out all of Korea’s world famous artisan coffees. It’s not as if he has anything better to do after all, and coffee is innocuous enough that even the Korean Hunters Association won’t get on his case about it. He’s coming as a tourist, so he’ll be going as a tourist as well- ignoring the walking bomb threat that’s practically stamped on his passport.
It’s not bad, he thinks, enjoying the aroma of his cup of drip coffee. He swirls it some more; the cafe itself is nice, a small indie place tucked away on the second floor of some derelict building. There are only a couple other people there, and they don’t care that he’s a Hunter. They’re like him, just there to enjoy a good cup of joe.
Or at least, they didn’t care until a gate spawned down the street, and the screaming started.
“Someone call the Hunter’s Association!” a tween from the table shrieks. Her voice grates on his ears and gives him a headache, and he grimaces.
He gets up with a sigh, thinking that even when he’s off work, his work comes to find him. (In Korea ? It’s just his luck, isn’t it?) But this isn’t his country. Isn’t his business. He takes a glance at the size of the gate. Oh, he can eat that for breakfast. No big deal- some tank in shiny armor will probably be rushing in to deal with this in an hour tops, and he can just move onto the next stop in his tour.
He brushes off his pants and asks for a take out cup from the dazed barista when said tween boldly grabs him by the arm. Chris raises an arm. The girl has guts, he’ll give her that. But it takes conscious effort on his part not to roast the skin of her hand to a nice crisp.
“You- You’re National Level Hunter Christopher Reed,” she says reverently, as if expecting him to do something about that baby dungeon downstairs. He reminds himself that he’s most likely going to break her wrist if he shoves her away. Reminds himself that this is a civilian child who’s almost on the verge of tears before him. Then, he calms down. He opens his mouth to tell her to buzz off, when a different hand reaches to pry the kid’s hand away from him before she loses it.
He frowns and looks across from him to see a presence that even his senses missed. Mana bright violet eyes look back at him curiously.
There’s your S-rank, he wants to tell her. He knows a fellow S rank when he sees one, and he’s even more surprised that she doesn’t recognize him. That guy is dangerous; an assassin hiding amongst sheep, but he isn’t so insecure in his own power as to get nervous.
Curiously, the S ranker doesn’t move to take care of the gate either, but he looks at Chris with far too much interest to be polite.
He smiles. “Should we take this somewhere else?” He’s itching for a spar, and they’re going to need a bigger gate than that if it’s to fit two S ranks.
The stranger smiles back, amusement written plainly on his face, and nods.
One spar turns into ten, and they demolish more gates than he can count. Good thing Jin-Woo has a miniature monopoly on them and a tidy guild of three. The press doesn’t pick up on their visits, and the Association on the Korean side doesn’t care- or at least, looks the other way.
He has his phone number before he knows it, shared over post dungeon drinks. (Who knew that Koreans liked to mix their alcohols or that their fried chicken goes so well with beer? This is great. He needs to get more of this stuff when he gets back.)
And if their visits end up in a hotel somewhere, well… no one has to know, right? What he does on his own time is none of the Association’s business, and he can tell Thomas to shove it if he tries to butt in. (Not to mention Jin-Woo is stronger than them both, loathe as he is to admit it. He can’t hide the way his very mana shivers the first time he sees the man yank the dungeon boss’ soul out of its still warm body. Dangerous, he thinks- then grins.)
When it’s all said and done, Jin-Woo slips a soldier into his shadow the same time he leans in for a kiss before Chris leaves for the airport.
“See you soon,” Chris says with a smirk, not missing the way his shadow wavers.
Jin-Woo chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Not soon enough. Tell me when you land,” he says.
Oh he’ll tell him alright.
“Did I wake you up?” Chris asks gently, a smirk on his face when he opens the bedroom door to find Jin-Woo exactly as he left him.
“Not at all,” Jin-Woo snarls, frustration coloring his voice. He tugs at the ties over his wrists; Chris knows he can break free any time if he really wants to, but that’s not part of the game they play. Jin-Woo turns his head towards Chris’ general direction, his sight taken from him with the thick black cloth tied across his eyes.
“Sorry to leave you waiting,” he chuckles, drinking in the sight of Jin-Woo tied against his headboard. He sheds his clothing easily and slowly crawls back to bed. “Now where were we?” he asks, his mana flaring with hunger as he looks at the bruises yet to fade from Jin-Woo’s neck.
“Did they want something?” Jin-Woo asks, distracted by the hands that start roaming over his chest.
“Nothing important,” Chris hums and leans over. “Nothing that can’t wait.”
He has had enough waiting, he thinks. No more waiting, not for the world.
Three hours later, Jin-Woo snorts when Chris finally tells him what the interruption was all about. He sits up in bed, the ties pooling around the end of the bed and a blindfold in his hands.
“So all I have to do is stay an extra night?” Jin-Woo asks, amused. “That can be easily arranged… if you have no complaints.”
“None at all,” Chris says smoothly, enjoying the sight of Jin-Woo lounging around shirtless. He wouldn’t mind a repeat of tonight. No sir.
“Are you going to let me get killed?” Chris asks sarcastically.
“Not if I can help it,” Jin-Woo shrugs, not saying much to rest his hoarse voice. “Too much trouble,” he teases.
“Oh? You wouldn’t miss me? Not at all?” Chris asks, all fake hurt and grins.
“Maybe a little,” Jin-Woo smirks.
“Well, I’ll just have to remind you why you’d miss me then,” Chris says and tackles him back into bed. Three hours and not even half an hour’s rest, Jin-Woo thinks with a laugh.
“Oh by the way, you’re the one finding out why a foreign agency has your personal phone number,” Chris mutters. Jin-Woo rolls his eyes even as he feels his heart rate speed up.
“I’ll do it later,” he says, feeling a bit breathless.
Contrary to popular belief, Jin-Woo doesn’t discount Selner’s words. He knows a true psychic when he sees one, and the woman is something if not supernatural.
It’s a dark and stormy night when he feels the disturbance in their surroundings. He doesn’t dare to sleep - doesn’t get much sleep even when his eyes close in exhaustion, not with Selner’s warning hanging in the air like a guillotine’s blade.
He’s the first to sense the foreign presence; Chris is still blissfully snoring away next to him. Monster mana, he thinks grimly. Strong ones. There’s an uneasy silence cloaking the entire mansion. Even the animals are silent; the crickets have gone quiet. The thunder stops its rumble, and that sets Jin-Woo’s senses on edge.
He shakes Chris awake, his eyes never leaving the door.
“Chris,” he says quietly. “ Chris .” He gets up and slips on a bathrobe.
Chris takes one look at the look on his face and sobers up. That’s Hunter Sung Jin-Woo on the prowl, not his on-and-off fling. He shrugs on his shirt and puts on his crocs.
There’s a leftover glass of wine on the table from last night, and he drops it on the ground. The glass shatters, but no one comes running. Ominous. The security should have at least come running… unless they’re unable to.They share a look.
They make their way down to the hall, legions of shadows creeping after them.
“Who’s there?” he asks into empty space. Before his eyes, a blonde man appears from the shadows.
“You won’t be able to save anything if you keep fighting while trying to help the humans, Fragment of Brilliant Light,” the man says absently.
Monster tongue, Chris thinks in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Shh… I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the man up there, connected to you,” he says sinisterly. Two other monsters appear from the shadows.
“I’m afraid no one’s there to hear you at the moment. Could you repeat that for me… Monarch of Iron Body? I won’t be able to save what now?” Jin-Woo slips out of Chris’ shadows and looks down at the humanoid monster.
“Ashborne,” The man hisses, his face twisting into an ugly snarl. The other two Monarchs take a step back. Chris sees the one in fur recoiling and thinks, coward.
“Igris, Beru,” Jin-Woo murmurs, the same time he awakens the shadow in Adam White’s shadow. Time to kick some monster ass.
“While I am glad that you are alive, Chris...” Selner begins with a smile on her lips. It’s his second time seeing her in a week, and he’s still grumpy enough about having his vacation disturbed to only grunt in her general direction.
“Would you mind explaining this,” she continues calmly, gesturing at the field of ash and crumbling concrete where a mansion stood less than twenty-four hours ago. She eyes the man standing next to Chris with something like surprise and amusement. “I see you managed to get in touch with Hunter Sung Jin-Woo in a timely manner.”
“Madam Selner,” Jin-Woo says politely, but there’s a rather fetching blush on his face that goes all the way up to his ears when he answers. He fights the urge to tug Chris’ ugly bathrobe just that bit tighter, feeling incredibly awkward and caught off footed. There’s a knowing look in the psychic’s eyes, but it doesn’t take supernatural abilities to come to a logical conclusion.
Chris huffs. What is there to explain, really? Selner only looks amused at their expense.
“You’re staying for this,” he pokes at Jin-Woo, who looks mortified enough to slip back into Chris’ shadow. He’s not dealing with the Hunters Association on his own.
“Maybe if you’ll let me find my clothes first,” Jin-Woo says pointedly, “Or at least, what’s left of them.” Even he looks put out, thinking of the nosy questions he’d have to field from both his mom and Jin-Ah if he comes home in Chris’ clothes.
Chris sighs and puts a hand on his temple, thinking of that headache he still has to deal with. For god’s sake, he’s still on vacation , dammit.