𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓐𝓼 𝓘𝓬𝓮 [𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊]

17

Heyow guys~😆

Mianhae~😵😆 for not updating
Been busy with school.
Anyway highway and all the other way
Enjoy reading

Edited a/n: No, i haven't actually edited it 🤣 so I'm sorry if this is goddamn confusing y'all

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Rosé Park pulled into the weed-choked driveway automatically checking for signs of intruders as she parked in the cul-de-sac to the right of the old house. This was the only part of the landscaping that was supposed to be untended and overgrown, to provide her just a bit more camouflage when she came home.
Not that she could call it, or anyplace, home. It was mid-April and by now the gardens should have started blooming. Instead, they were desolate-a fitting reflection of its owner, she thought grimly.

She switched off the elaborate, undetectable security system and stepped inside. Not that there was anything in the sparsely furnished house of particular value. She had a little attachment to things, and apart from her grandfather's huge desk she had little of any intrinsic worth.

She never could figure out why she'd bought her grandfather's desk in the first place. She'd just happened to catch sight of the public auction of her grandfather's possessions, and she'd gone on an unlikely impulse, when she was never, ever impulsive.
There would be no stray member of the family around to possibly identify her. Her parents were long dead. The proceeds I the estate were going to endow a chair in her grandfather's name at Oxford. One way to secure his legacy, since his offspring had failed him.

She'd be just as happy if someone broke in and carried the damn thing off, though it weighed a bloody ton. She didn't have the kind of job that required a desk, and she was very careful never to leave a paper trail.
No, she hadn't installed the security to protect the house. She simply wanted to ensure there were no unpleasant surprises waiting for her on the rare occasions she got down to Wiltshire. A really good operative could figure out how to bypass the system, but it would be impossible not to leave very visible proof someone had tampered with the place.

She was almost sorry the hadn't. Avoiding a lethal trap would be a welcome distraction, and if, after all these years, her luck failed her, then so be it.
In fact, things were definitely taking a turn for the worse. Kim Jongin was the first mission she'd ever failed to complete, and it was little wonder she was feeling like shit. Her professional pride was wounded, nothing more. The wrong person had died.

She'd done her best for her, given her tools and a map and a strong a hint as she dared. If she hadn't gotten away it wasn't her fault, just part of the grand-cock-up that the Kai assignment had become.

The house smelled stale an empty and faintly of mice. If she was going to sell the place she'd have to get a massive cleaning crew in to get rid of it's neglected air.
Putting it on the market was the smart thing to do. For some sentimental fool it would seem the perfect house-slate roof, diamond-pane windows and the kind of winding floor plan that attested to almost three hundred years of additions and improvements. Her wife had always complained that it was too old fashioned, and she hated to garden. She'd never taken her to the stripped down, ultramodern flat in London where she spent most of her time. It would have suited her perfectly and she'd never even known it existed.