The Tiger King (Chaelisa)

87| Tell Me (No) Lies Pt.2

(trigger warning: graphic depictions of violence)

Hidden in the corner behind the door as she fiddled with the walkie-talkie Chanyeol gave her, Jennie hoped and hoped that no camera or microphone could pick up what she was doing exactly. She had turned on the shower and let the water run to try and mask sounds, but decided stepping into the shower fully clothed would arouse more suspicion than hiding behind a door.

Either way, if Hani looked over surveillance she was going to have questions, but Jennie would do what she did best: lie and make excuses.

"Checking in. Over." Jennie muttered, pushing away the ever-present twinge of guilt as she nervously rubbed her tattoo. Chanyeol had said he'd be on the look out for a message from her, implying he kept his radio on all the time so she hoped he'd be able to reply quick.

He had given her the walkie-talkie to keep their conversations as secret as possible. Jennie had been able to stash away the device in her pocket: it was quite small, no bigger than her palm, even with the short antenna. For a moment when in bed with Jisoo, she had forgotten all about it, had barely felt it digging into her thigh.

Afterwards—when she was hurrying away like a murderer fleeing from a crime scene—did she remember how close Jisoo would have been to discovering the gadget and potentially forcing Jennie to lie to her face to cover up her secret plan.

If Jisoo or Rosé knew, they wouldn't let me do this. If Hani knew, she'd kill me.

A burst of static snapped Jennie out of her brooding, letting her know Chanyeol had received her transmission. She waited, tapping her foot and listening to the sound of running water. 

Hani was going to get a high water bill.

"Jen, I'm here," Chanyeol said several agonisingly long moments later, his voice garbled with static. "Sorry, had to go to the roof, I'm at HQ right now. What is it?"

"Did you get the names?" Jennie said anxiously. "We should get started right away."

"Yes I got them. I crunched the list overnight—"

"Don't you ever sleep?" Jennie wondered, taken aback.

"Crime doesn't sleep. Now, the names: Im Yoon-ah, Choi Soo-young and Kim Ki-bum. Those are the journalists that fit our criteria."

"That's a small number," Jennie frowned.

"All the more easy to choose. We need to be careful who we give your story to. They have to be knowledgeable and specific to our case—"

"I know, I remember."

Chanyeol had lectured Jennie on choosing the right candidates to handle this delicate exposé the night before when they talked on the roof. He offered to weed out the possible options and narrow down the pool to the journalists that were credible, grounded, worked tirelessly to defend the voiceless and expose corruption, worked for reputable news sites, were veterans of the industry and had robust legal protection because as Chanyeol said, Jinyoung will strike back and they needed to be prepared.

"Are you still planning to include the Dasoni in the exposé?" Chanyeol asked.

"I'm more convinced than ever that I should," Jennie said immediately. Her fingers brushed against the crackling piece of paper containing the cult's address in her pocket, wincing upon contact as though it burned. She had slid it out from Rosé's hiding place in the pillowcase in the dead of night and hoped that Rosé wouldn't go look for it.

"Do...do the other girls know? You should...you ought to talk. Once authorities get a hold of you, you have an uncertain future ahead of you. We can't rule out deportation for your situation. You might never see them again," Chanyeol said hesitantly, probably anticipating the answer, probably knowing Jennie hadn't changed her mind since last night and wasn't going to.