Chapter Text
A circle of eight, accusations flinging. The body, with an ornate knife dug in up to the hilt in its throat, is not present, but it might as well be; everybody present has the body etched in their minds. The look of horror on its face, the blood splatter against its pale skin—it’s unforgettable stuff.
Seungmin eyes the others warily. All this suspicion, all this investigation, all this accusation, and they’re not any closer to the truth.
And then Felix steps forward, shushing everybody else without a word. He raises a trembling hand, and, with an unsteady voice, confesses, “I-it was me. I killed him.”
Seungmin enjoys people-watching, always has. Doing it here, in a small, secluded town, is equal parts frustrating and enjoyable. Frustrating because there are naturally fewer people to observe, but enjoyable because they behave so differently from people in a city. There’s no rush, no haste—life is slower here. Seungmin thinks he enjoys it.
Uncharacteristically, there have been at least two sleek, expensive cars driving by, with windows tinted so dark that Seungmin has no hope of making out who or what is inside. His head swivels to follow them as the owner of the local café refills his coffee.
“They’ll be heading for the manor, no doubt,” he notes, refreshing Seungmin’s coffee.
“Manor?” he asks distractedly. This doesn’t seem a particularly wealthy area—in fact, it’s quite remote. There’s a single sheriff in this town, a smattering of shops.
The café owner cocks his head, as if Seungmin has asked a ridiculous question. “You ever heard of Lee Minho?” he asks, and Seungmin hums in acknowledgement.
Lee Minho. Eccentric billionaire who had inherited his fortune. His father had died under suspicious circumstances three years prior and Minho had retreated into seclusion. Seungmin supposes he still gains income from different financial investments, but he’s virtually a recluse—or so Seungmin thought. It seems he has house guests for the weekend, with the expensive cars driving for his manor.
“I thought he was a shut-in,” Seungmin muses, and the owner shrugs.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But that road only goes to the manor, nothing else out there.”
They’re interrupted by a snapping of fingers, then a sharp whistle. “Hey, buddy,” comes an impatient voice.
Seungmin turns, faced with another of the sleek black cars with two men standing outside of it. They’re both handsome, though in different ways. The rude one, the one who’d whistled and snapped for the attention of the café owner, is perhaps classically handsome. Well-built, or perhaps well-bred, or perhaps with enough money to afford the best plastic surgeon in the country. His nose is straight and his lips are full; his hair is straight black and shiny and there’s not a single blemish on his face. Despite this, his expression is twisted and sour, and Seungmin feels he’s seen him before.
The other man is smaller, which is not aided by the way he seems scrunched in on himself. His features are delicate, his hair long and dyed silver, reaching his shoulders. He’s wearing foundation which is at least a shade or two too light for his complexion, and it seems it’s been smeared over a constellation of freckles that Seungmin actually finds quite charming. Is it in an attempt to hide them? It’s a shame. But he leaves a big impression, and Seungmin is certain that he’s never seen this one before.
The snooty one’s name dawns on him as he watches him throw a couple bills at the café owner, demanding coffee like he’s a servant. Earl—a mononym, and one which is certainly enough for a character this large. His real name is something basic and forgettable; if Seungmin recalls, he’d chosen the name Earl for its English meaning of nobility, of high birth—something which Mr. Earl is decidedly not.
He’s wealthy enough, regardless. His fortune is in his pharmaceutical company, which has recently come out with a ground-breaking anti-anxiety medication.
And Earl’s eyes, rolling all around as he waits for the owner to return with his coffee, fall on Seungmin. “Well, no shit,” he says in astonishment, and immediately crowds up to Seungmin to wring his hand. “Kim Seungmin, aren’t you? Detective Kim Seungmin?”
Part of Seungmin wants to insist that he’s got the wrong guy, but he sees the man behind Earl avoid his eye and hang his head, and he has an itching need to figure out what’s going on there. He’s a detective, he loves a good mystery—sue him.
“That’s me,” he replies serenely. “Earl, isn’t it? And…?” He gazes past Earl to who must be his partner, his boyfriend, but Seungmin doesn’t make a habit to keep up with every Insta influencer boyfriend that a billionaire might have.
“Felix,” he introduces himself softly, still shrunk in on himself. He’s staring at Seungmin hard, in something vaguely approaching horror, or anxiety—perhaps he could use those revolutionary drugs his boyfriend had developed.
It’s another mononym, anyway, Felix—rich people. Seungmin might know who he is if he paid any attention to social media. Felix has that kind of influencer look, he thinks. Or maybe he has an OnlyFans—that could be it, too.
Unbidden, Earl pulls up a chair, scraping it loudly against the concrete and sitting on it backwards, pitching eagerly forward to Seungmin. “You solved that—that mystery on the train. And—trapped on the island? Oh, man! You should write books!”
Seungmin cocks a smirk. “Experiencing it in real life is excitement enough, I assure you.” He glances past Earl, past Felix to the sleek black car, and juts his chin towards it. “That’s the third car like that I’ve seen today. Are you going to Lee Minho’s manor?”
Earl guffaws, an incredulous noise, and punches Felix on the shoulder. “Fuckin’ Sherlock Holmes, isn’t he, Lixie?”
Seungmin expects quiet assent—Felix seems meek, and he supposes you’d have to be, to put up with a character like Earl. Instead, Felix stares at him hard, and responds, “Not so impressive. Common sense, right? We’re not inconspicuous.”
Earl looks annoyed by his answer, and when he flashes a glare over in his direction, Felix slumps self-consciously in his chair, his eyes lowered submissively.
Seungmin laughs, trying to force levity into a fraught conversation. “You’re right, of course. May I ask what you’re doing up at Lee Minho’s manor? I was under the assumption that he was more or less a recluse.”
Earl grins conspiratorially and leans towards Seungmin, as if he’s letting him in on a secret. “Rich people like to rub elbows with other rich people. Minho has been renovating the whole manor, and he invited a group of us up to see it. Although, between you and me, I think he has an ulterior motive.”
“Oh?” This piques Seungmin’s interest. Is there something… afoot?
Earl glances over at Felix, suddenly distracted. “Your freckles are showing through, Lix,” he says distastefully. “Go—powder your nose, or something.” And he waves a dismissive hand at Felix.
Felix, with watery eyes, obediently rises and strides into the café, maybe seeking a bathroom. Seungmin would like to say something, but the moment Earl is about to tell him key information doesn’t seem like the appropriate time.
“You know my fortune is in pharmaceuticals, right?” Earl asks, leaning back towards Seungmin. He’s focused again—Seungmin would bet anything he’d gotten rid of Felix on purpose. “Well, Minho’s invited my former partners-turned-rivals. You know Bang Chan and Seo Changbin, of course?”
Seungmin does—the young joint CEOs of the nation’s next-largest pharmaceutical company. They don’t have a miracle drug, like Earl’s anti-anxiety medication, but Seungmin has heard they’re well respected and make quality product. Reliable, maybe, is the word.
“It’s in Minho’s best interest for us to join back up. He’s been an investor in my company since those two bozos broke off and made their own—and he has stock in their company, as well. If we make nice and join back up, Minho stands to profit. A lot.”
Hm. Intriguing, yes, but not exactly a riveting mystery that Seungmin needs to be privy to. It’s just rich people being greedier and greedier, nothing new, nothing revolutionary or unexpected..
It had originally been just the one company, Earl’s. Then, there had been a rupture, a split, and Chan and Changbin had jumped ship, stolen quite a few of Earl’s products, and created their own pharmaceutical company. As far as Seungmin knows, not many details have been made public as to why, but both companies are flourishing just fine. It’s been about three years, Seungmin would wager, enough time for Earl to recover and the other two to get off the ground.
Felix returns, more too-pale makeup smeared hopelessly across his freckles. Earl grimaces at him slightly, muttering something about Look like a fucking wreck…
But then he’s turning back to Seungmin, an eager glint in his eye. “Listen, it’s sort of open invite this weekend. You in? Minho has quite an impressive collection of art and artifacts.”
Meek Felix, who seems to roll over at the slightest push-back from Earl, speaks up. “It’s not open invite,” he says firmly, almost glaring at Seungmin. “Besides, I doubt a world-class detective would want to spend the weekend with a bunch of snotty billion—”
Smack.
Seungmin almost can’t believe it, the casual way Earl reaches over and smacks Felix across the face, like he… like he has nothing to fear. No repercussions whatsoever. And when you’re as rich as he is, probably you don’t. Already, several café patrons are turning away, pretending like they saw nothing.
This is a dangerous man, Seungmin realizes. Any man with enough money to do as he pleases is dangerous, but Earl makes it worse by being particularly nasty and vicious. Felix is hunched to the side, clutching his cheek, slapped into silence.
Seungmin has no interest in billionaires. He has no interest in company mergers, or the fraught pharmaceutical industry. He really doesn’t want to have to spend longer engaged in conversation with Earl, who is deeply unpleasant.
But Felix, meek and submissive Felix, seems determined to not let Seungmin the world-class detective tag along for their weekend. It’s suspicious, inherently.
With difficulty, Seungmin draws his eyes to meet Earl’s, composed and indifferent, as if he hadn’t just casually slapped his boyfriend hard across the face with a café full of witnesses.
“I’d love to come,” he decides with steely resolution. “If you think Minho would be amenable.”
Felix is sullen in the car, maybe stunned. There’s a driver behind another tinted window, and Seungmin sits up against it, facing Earl and Felix. Earl has an arm slung over Felix’s shoulder, as if nothing at all has happened; there’s a slight discoloration to Felix’s cheekbone, visible through his layers of foundation, the beginnings of a bruise.
Despite the chilling, sullen atmosphere, Earl keeps up a steady stream of conversation, questioning Seungmin relentlessly about cases he’s worked, what he’s doing in the area.
“Honestly,” he says, trying to keep his eye from drawing to Felix and almost failing, “I’m on vacation. My life is hectic, I like to go to quiet places to unwind.”
Earl’s mouth spreads into a grin. “Unlucky weekend, then.”
“It seems so.”
They drive for longer than Seungmin anticipated, a solid couple of hours driving at a steady pace—Lee Minho, it seems, really likes his privacy. He supposes he’ll keep an eye on the goings on of the rival pharmaceutical companies, but his primary goal is to learn more about Felix. His situation is an odd one, and Seungmin doesn’t pretend to be an expert on situations of domestic abuse, but there has to be a reason Felix doesn’t simply leave Earl. He’s attractive, under the cakey makeup, and Seungmin is sure he has enough Instagram followers to sustain himself.
Out of curiosity, he googles the name, despite the sparse cell service. Sure enough, Felix does have an Instagram—huge surprise there—with over 23 million followers. He’s pretty active, it seems, posting pictures mostly on vacation. Felix’s life is probably a vacation, Seungmin muses. He scrolls and notes that the pictures with Earl crop up about three and a half years ago—Felix, then, ought to know Chan and Changbin, Earl’s former business partners.
It takes him a while to scroll that far, because Felix posts a lot, at least every other day. There are brand deals and partnerships. He has to have plenty of money, so there’s no need to stay with Earl for that. What gives?
Curiously, there’s a span of about a month where Felix hasn’t posted from about three months ago. Seungmin only notices because he innocently clicks on a photo where Felix’s hair seems to have grown and his hair is newly dyed. The captions reads: sorry for the unannounced hiatus, lovelies!! <33 took some well-deserved time for myself hehe :3
His voice in his captions seems starkly different to this, the sullen, reticent man staring vacantly out the window with a poppy bruise flowering on his cheek. People put up a front on social media, Seungmin is certain, and certainly Felix’s life isn’t the luxurious beach villas and boozy lake days he seems to post. But he wonders if his followers have any inkling how… profoundly unhappy he must be.
He’s mulling this over and staring at an old, unedited photo of Felix’s freckles in full bloom when their car pulls up in a large drive. Peering out the dark windows, the utter size of the manor is what impresses Seungmin.
The grounds are well tended and massive—he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a hedge maze somewhere, although he can’t glimpse one now. The staircase leading up to the front door is appropriately massive and elegant, and there’s a man waiting out front—hip cocked, arms crossed, tongue impatiently situated in the pocket of his cheek.
Vaguely, though he’s changed a bit since Seungmin has seen a photo, he can recognize this as Lee Minho. His hair is dyed a rich, dark purple and his clothes are deceptively casual. Somehow, Seungmin feels certain the ensemble altogether costs more than his monthly rent. It’s just loose-fitting cotton pants, sensible sandals, and a T-shirt cuffed up his biceps, but on Minho, it gives the image of unimaginable wealth and comfort.
“Earl,” he greets as the man ducks out of the car first, making no attempt to curl the R on the foreign name. He pronounces it like full Korean, and somehow, Seungmin feels certain that that fact frustrates Earl: Eol.
“Thanks for the invite, Minho,” he responds, and Felix ducks out, as well.
“Yongbok,” Minho greets in the same tone, and Felix whines.
“It’s Felix, hyung, really…”
Seungmin ducks out, and Minho cocks his head. “And… who’s this?”
Earl cocks a grin. “Would you believe there was a world-class detective just hanging out in the next town over? Kim Seungmin, surely you’ve heard of him?”
Minho presses his lips together momentarily, then seems to collect himself, his mouth spreading in an interested little smile. “Who would have thought?” Minho asks, bemused, sticking a hand out to Seungmin. “Well, Detective Kim Seungmin, you’re welcome, if unexpected.”
“I apologize for the intrusion,” Seungmin says gracefully, as Minho wrings his hand. “I was told it was an open invite.”
“Ah, there’s plenty of room,” Earl says dismissively. “Look at this place. Goddamn, Minho.”
Felix’s bruise is noticeable, but Minho makes no mention of it, not even the offer of an ice pack. Further proof that Earl can do as he damn well pleases. Something is fishy here, and Seungmin is determined to find out just what it is that stinks so bad.
“He’s right about that,” Minho says with a graceful smile. “The more, the merrier.”
The entrance hall is every bit as grand as the front. There are marble floors, a massive chandelier, and a sweeping staircase spiraling up to a second floor.
“We’ll concern ourselves with room assignments later,” Minho says dismissively. “Everyone else is by the pool already.” They follow Minho into the next room, a dining room of sorts, and there’s a man standing with his chin in his fingers, scrutinizing an artwork.
“Is this is a real Degas?” he asks, looking over his shoulder to Minho.
“Not everyone, it seems,” Minho says wryly, glancing at his guests. “And yes, of course, Jeongin, I’d hardly display a fake Degas.”
The painting is of a ballerina, hunched over her knees as she sits in what seems to be a waiting room. To her side, a woman clad in all black—her mother, perhaps. Somehow, though Seungmin is no art critic, the anxiety she feels as she waits is palpable—Seungmin feels it constrict his own throat.
“Jeongin works for Chan and Changbin,” Minho says, pointedly avoiding Earl’s eyes. “A researcher, aren’t you, Jeonginnie?”
“That’s right,” he says, tearing away from the painting and squaring his shoulders. He’s dressed less expensively, in jean shorts and an oversized T-shirt. “Just a lowly researcher, but they were kind enough to invite me on this weekend away.” His eyes linger on Felix a moment—understandable, between his beauty and the conspicuous bruise blossoming on his cheek—then land on Earl. “Ah,” he notes. “Our… competition.”
“Now, now,” Minho says, playfully stepping between them. “This is a friendly weekend, okay? No animosity.”
“I’m sure you’ve no ulterior motive, Minho,” Earl says, quirking an eyebrow.
“Absolutely none,” he says with a warm smile, patting Earl on the shoulder. There’s a touch of irony there that Seungmin isn’t sure he can trace, but then Minho is clearing his throat and nodding for the door. “Pool’s this way.”
When he had said pool, Seungmin had pictured a normal, suburban, backyard pool. That was his first mistake—the pool is massive, sprawling. Olympic-size, maybe, though not the standard rectangle. There’s a waterfall, an ankle-height lounge area, and more chairs than their small party could hope to fill.
First and foremost, in a bathing suit that shows off far more leg than seems respectable, there’s a lanky, tall man, shielding his eyes from his sun despite his sunglasses. Again, Seungmin feels certain that his sunglasses cost more than his car.
“Oh, Earl!” he cries, wrapping around him in what seems like overkill in front of his boyfriend, though Felix doesn’t even flinch. “You made it, I’m so glad!”
“Oh, how could I miss you, Hyunjin?” he returns with a reckless grin, gripping onto Hyunjin’s waist in a way that seems far from platonic.
Hyunjin is undeniably gorgeous, all tan, lean skin, and a lot of it. He’s in just his bathing suit, shorts that must be no more than a three inch inseam. Despite this, it doesn’t seem he’s gotten wet at all, preferring to stand at the edge and watch.
They exchange cheek kisses—how refined of them, Seungmin thinks wryly—and Hyunjin at last turns to Felix. “Felix, you look well,” he says, a brazen lie.
Felix manages a weak smile. “You’re glowing, Hyunjin.”
“And Jeongin, you returned to me,” Hyunjin says excitedly, reaching forward to clasp his hands in his own. Seungmin doesn’t miss the way Jeongin flushes bright red and stammers his way through an awkward response; poor guy. It isn’t every day you get the attention of someone as gorgeous as Hyunjin on you.
Hyunjin turns to Seungmin. “And…? Minho? Who’s this?”
“Kim Seungmin,” he introduces himself, because he’s perfectly capable, extending a hand.
Hyunjin is politely bemused. “Ah, forgive me. Do you work in fashion, or…?” At this assumption, his eyes go up and down Seungmin’s outfit, as if he refuses to believe such a thing.
“A world-class detective, if you can believe it,” Earl says with a wicked grin. “Imagine stumbling into him in that nothing town.”
Hyunjin’s smile suddenly seems politely forced. “Imagine,” he repeats, smiling blankly at Seungmin.
There are two more men fully utilizing the pool. They shove each other jokingly, then one pins the other to the wall and leers at him teasingly.
Minho clears his throat. “Can we make it to nightfall before you two ravish each other?” he asks, and the two look up.
Immediately, there are storm clouds on their faces. “Earl,” says one, glowering at him. Felix seems fidgety, suddenly, and Seungmin arches an eyebrow.
“No fighting this weekend,” Minho says, getting between them again. “We’re here because my manor is finally fully completed, and for no other reason. Please, leave the childish squabbles at the door.”
“Childish,” Earl scoffs, seeming annoyed.
“This is Kim Seungmin, detective,” Minho introduces, a courtesy. “Seungmin, the bottom is Changbin, the top is Chan. They switch sometimes.”
It’s a startling introduction, to say the least, but it would seem Chan is pinning Changbin to the edge of the pool—fair enough.
“Ignore Minho,” Chan says, smiling at Seungmin. “His seclusion has driven him mad. Welcome, anyway.”
“Hey, ease off,” Earl says, slinging an arm around Felix again. “I’m the one who found the guy.”
Seungmin doesn’t like becoming something to be fought over, and he smiles uneasily. “Plenty of me to go around, I swear.”
He wouldn’t have guessed that the joint CEOs of one of the world’s biggest pharmaceutical companies would also be… boyfriends? lovers? He supposes it’s kept under lock and key, until they’re in private places like this.
“Well,” he addends, “it’s lovely to meet all of you.” He turns to Minho. “Is there a place I could perhaps freshen up?”
“Seems it’s time for room assignments, after all,” he says with an amused grin. “So, Earl and Felix, Chan and Changbin… Hyunjin and Jeongin?”
“Yes, please,” Hyunjin says, curled seductively around Jeongin, who looks like he’s contemplating drowning himself in the pool, his face cherry red.
Seungmin considers. If they’re pairing off, surely that doesn’t leave him and Minho…?
“Everyone else relax, feel free to call for a drink,” Minho announces. “I’ll find a room for our detective.”
There’s still a slight tension between Earl, Chan, and Changbin, but apparently not so bad that Minho feels he can’t leave them alone. He pads back to the house, leading Seungmin. They return to the entrance and glide up the stairs.
“Is this how you usually stumble into your cases, then?” Minho asks, conversational. “Coincidentally?”
Seungmin is startled, taking a step back. “Case? I know there’s the tension with the two companies, but surely you don’t anticipate a problem?”
Minho snorts. “Please. They’re all bark, no bite. I was making conversation. Awfully convenient you were loitering around that little nothing town…”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Seungmin responds serenely, smiling at Minho. It seems Minho doesn’t quite know what to make of him, and changes topic.
“Well, if you need a bathing suit, we have extras. Any basic amenities should be in your bathroom—toothpaste, body lotion, shampoo… but, please, if you need anything else, feel free to find me, or call a servant. Any questions, please don’t hesitate.”
“I do have a question, actually,” Seungmin says, as Minho grabs the door knob, second room on the right. “A couple, as a matter of fact.”
“Shoot,” he says innocently, opening the door with his hip.
It’s luxurious, a ridiculously large bed for Seungmin to sleep in alone, along with a TV, a dresser, other basic amenities. The bathroom has a jacuzzi tub and a rain shower, but Seungmin refuses to be dazzled yet.
“It’s been three years you’ve been living as a recluse,” Seungmin says. “Why now? Why have people over now?”
Minho seems amused by the question. “Look at this place. It’s a shame to keep it all to myself. It’s time to entertain again, I think.”
Fine. Whatever. Good enough, Seungmin supposes. It isn’t quite air-tight, but it isn’t suspicious enough for Seungmin to go prodding at. “Okay. Then tell me this: are any of you going to acknowledge the bruise on Felix’s face, or wonder where it came from? Who it came from?”
For the first time, Minho’s polite mask drops, and Seungmin glimpses the monster beneath it. There’s pure, unbridled rage, uncontained, raw and exposed—but only for half a second. Then Minho composes himself under his mask of polite bemusement.
“Yongbok is so clumsy,” he insists with a dismissive wave. “Always tripping into door knobs and falling down staircases and whatnot. He’ll give himself permanent brain damage one of these days, I fear. Silly boy.” Minho clears his throat politely. “Dinner is at 7:00,” he informs, politely flat but final, inviting no further discussion. “Dress code is… casual. Do you have proper clothes?” he asks with genuine concern.
“I’ll manage,” Seungmin says, having no idea what rich people consider casual. Jeans? That feels slightly ridiculous. He does have his battered overnight bag that he’d had on hand when Earl had invited him; he’ll make do.
“See you then,” Minho says decisively, leaving him with a polite nod and the distinct feeling that he’s wandered into a much larger mystery than he might have anticipated.