Beautiful Crime || DoTae

Chapter Seven

Tuesday, August 30th 2161, 13:53.

Cheongnam, South Korea.

"It's like... I can't tell what is truly me anymore, or what is him. It's like he's occupying part of my mind, trying to influence and twist me to become the man that I was under his watch."

Minhyung blinked at Taeyong, his mouth agape as the latter kept his eye fixed on the table beneath the desk in his office in Neo City. He spun a small knife between his fingers, hardly acknowledging that the slightest slip-up could leave him with an injury, though minor.

"You think that Lim Kangdae is living inside of your head?" asked Minhyung, and he raised his brow. "I'm sorry, Taeyong. It's not that I don't believe what you're saying, exactly... I just don't know what you mean."

"I know—I know it's ridiculous. I'm sorry for saying something so... strange. It must be the... uh... nicotine, or something. I've been smoking more than I usually do these past few days or so. I guess I'm just stressed out, so I'm saying nonsensical things."

"No, it isn't nonsensical. I can see how you'd feel that way, I think," said the younger man as he subconsciously scratched the back of his neck. "It's just that I don't know much about this kind of thing."

Taeyong nodded to himself, allowing the knife to slip from his grip and onto the desk, where it landed among a pile of creased and crumpled paper, alongside a folded paper cup. Upon recognising the mess from the corner of his eye, Taeyong shifted his attention to it and picked up a ball of paper. He threw it in the direction of the bin, only for it to fall onto the floor due to the sheer amount of waste already inside of the mesh container. Taeyong saw how Minhyung eyed the mess, his eyes narrow as he glanced back up to his brother.

"I heard from Jeno that you've been looking for that child. You know, the daughter of the Namjeong Clan Patriarch. It'll be pretty hard on you, right? I know you'll want to do all you can to find her."

A nod was all that Taeyong could muster. He used his fingers to slick back his hair, only to grip and pull at the strands without mercy. Minhyung stood up from where he was sitting, and he leaned over the table to reach the older man. He placed his hands on Taeyong's shoulders and looked him in the eye, prompting his older brother to loosen his grip on himself.

Minhyung's expression softened as Taeyong glanced up at him, his eye gleaming under the fluorescent bulb above his head. "I'm sorry, Taeyong, but... I need to say this. I can tell that you're struggling, and I can't be of help to you. I get it—I really do—you don't like therapy. You've been through it before, right?"

"It doesn't help. It might be comforting to some people, but to me... I don't want to relive it all more than I already do, Minhyung. If they take me away, if they try to 'fix' me with their little pills and machinery, I don't know if I'll be the same person that I am now when I return," said Taeyong, and he picked up a ballpoint pen and began to scribble in the corner of his collections form. "I don't want to go through that again. I escaped that emptiness on my own, and I won't return to that state."

"But... you're not coping."

Taeyong raised his brow. Minhyung's comment hit him like a ton of bricks, because it was exactly what he was thinking about himself. "It isn't about coping. I don't need to cope. Not while there's a child out there, probably terrified of what is going to happen to her. I'm sick and tired of people preying on the innocent."

"I don't get it, Taeyong. It isn't as though the rest of Noctis can't search for her themselves, you know. You're just as capable as they are, but right now, I worry that you're going to do something that you'll regret."