A Suspicious Delivery
The deep voice of a man had caught her steps.
Reon realized she had entered a dead-end alley and reluctantly turned around.
At the shallow entrance of the alley stood the man who had just been called “author.”
He was not familiar, yet his face was unforgettable.
The man slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and stared at her intently. Even though the helmet cover made it seem as though he wore sunglasses, his eyes held color—clear and sharp.
Reon stood there in silence, and the man, with one eyebrow cocked, called her name again.
“Delivery?”
What should she do?
Should she answer him?
If she did, her gender would be revealed by her voice, and things would only become more complicated afterward.
Perhaps the best thing was to play dumb and slip through.
She made her decision in a short moment. Alternating her gaze between the shopping bag and the man, she asked.
“Are you the one who ordered the delivery?”
The man’s eyes curved into crescents when he heard her question.
“No. If you have a moment, could you buy me a pack of cigarettes?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re the delivery guy.”
With those words, the man pulled a wallet from the inner pocket of his coat and held out four yellow bills.
Money. Several thousand won notes. Reon lifted the shopping bag in her hand and answered in an awkward tone.
“I still have to deliver this.”
“Then deliver that first and buy just one pack. It’s on the second floor. Keep the change.”
“…The convenience store is right in front.”
“You can hand it to the clerk at the entrance of the second floor.”
The man who had approached held out the yellow bills in front of her eyes once more. He was clearly giving her no choice.
Reon seriously considered it for a fleeting moment.
Why was this man talking to her? Why was he handing her such a large amount and ordering her to run an errand? Was it a trap, or simply an innocent proposal? She needed to judge.
But the money waving in front of her eyes swayed her heart. She admitted it. She was a slave of capitalism.
“What should I buy?”
“Anything.”
“Anything, you say?”
The man nodded only.
Reon snatched the bills and walked past the man as if fleeing.
A simple delivery rider would never refuse such a proposal. Her strong refusal would only arouse his suspicion.
While heading toward the convenience store, she felt the gaze that watched her obliquely.
There was a good scent from the man who had approached. No, it was an extremely clean scent. As someone who was familiar with the smell of cigarettes, it was a scent she had not smelled in a very long time.
* * *
Reon bought a pack of cigarettes at the nearest convenience store and took the change.
It was only one pack, but the meaning it held for her was substantial.
First, she had piqued the man’s interest.
Second, she had obtained an excuse to go up to the second floor of the building.
And third…
She had been suspected before she even started.
Inside the helmet, Reon’s lips curled back. What was this uneasy feeling that something was twisted?
She had already confirmed the location where the host and the mistress were going, so should she stop here and return?
She stood in place and pondered with a troubled expression. But today, for some reason, her feet refused to move.
It was said that evil was monotonous and good was colorful, but Reon, who had not yet experienced the colorfulness of good, could not fully believe it.
Instead, the evil she had experienced was colorful, tenacious, and stirred endless curiosity.
After leaving the convenience store, she deliberately lingered for a moment near the place and headed toward the building the man had mentioned. The sinister cover of the cigarette pack in her hand caught her eye.
Her primary purpose was to gather information about the mistress’s secret life, but honestly, curiosity came first.
Who was this man that made her feet unable to part easily? She wanted to know why.
Behind the ginkgo tree connecting to the interior of the parking lot filled with luxury sedans, a dark building entrance came into view.
The five-story building oddly had no elevator and no windows to be found. Moreover, as she got closer to the building, a distinct cement smell—unique to new construction—wafted over, unlike the exterior.
She climbed the stairs with no sensor lights even on. No surveillance cameras were visible on the ascending stairs. Furthermore, this place did not feel luxurious or decadent, despite being frequented by wealthy people.
Only after climbing the three-story stairs did she finally open the door that appeared. This time, instead of expectations, the silent hallway and dark empty rooms greeted her.
What was different was the presence of the security guards. They did not make a sound, but they were definitely there. Wearing black suits like uniforms, with in-ear devices, and hair neatly combed with pomade, they stood like robots, guarding the area.
Because of that, all eyes focused on her, who had suddenly appeared. The man closest to her stared at her suspiciously, helmet on, then placed his hand in his back pocket and approached.
Why was the atmosphere so ominous?
“How did you get here?”
She had wanted to look inside, but it was impossible here. But if she turned back after coming this far, it would only stir greater suspicion.
Reon deliberately held up the cigarette and walked straight toward him.
“I’m the delivery. You ordered an errand earlier when someone came in here. A man in a bright suit with a very handsome face.”
The security guard furrowed his brows when he heard the voice and blocked her way. He clearly had no intention of letting her in, flicking only his fingers in front of her helmet.
“Take off your helmet.”
The voice was full of suspicion.
“Hey, I have to get there quickly. I can just give this to you. The clerk said there would be someone on the second floor.”
“You want me to see his face?”
Reon scanned her surroundings and recalled the man’s appearance, then shook her head.
“I can’t see it.”
“Take off your helmet.”
“I’m busy, though. Just pass it on. The man who came in a Rolls-Royce.”
“I already said, take it off. Identification is required.”
The security guard’s expression suggested he had figured something out. Reon had to hold back the rising irritation at the man’s authoritarian tone.
Had he deliberately called her to the second floor for this? He could easily verify the face without involving himself.
Somehow, the delivery errand had come with too much money.
Whether this was a trap or a simple warning, once suspicion had begun, she had to extract the truth. Only then could the subsequent events go smoothly.
“Ah, really. I’m about to die from being busy.”
Reon grumbled and, with a sullen expression, unclipped the helmet. When she removed the sweaty helmet, her bundled hair and the round forehead stuck with stray strands were revealed. Over the helmet-like brim, two sharp eyes rose.
Precisely, the man facing her, whose appearance was delicate yet mysteriously sharp enough to make any man weep, changed his expression.
Reon nervously brushed her wet hair aside and shook her head several times to shake off the sweat. Perhaps because of her young face revealed after removing the helmet, the man who had let out a short laugh reached out his hand.
It was foolish to lower one’s guard and feel relieved just because she was a woman.
“ID too?”
Reon held out the cigarette to the man in an irritated tone. Only then did the man, who had picked it up with a smirk, nod.
“It’s fine. But there are probably not many people who come in a Rolls-Royce.”
“I don’t know the details either. I thought the car that looked best among the parked ones was his.”
“Ah, I see?”
The man turned his gaze sideways and looked back. He exchanged signs as if recognizing the person she had mentioned.
A kind of ‘bring her.’
She covertly observed their movements. The man checking his call phone with a gruff expression stood in the corner, not the emergency exit nearby.
---