T A E H Y U N G

Navigating the sea of politicians and their extravagantly dressed companions, I moved stealthily through the pre-inauguration ceremony, blending into the background as a disguised waiter. The silver tray in my left hand bore glasses of champagne, concealing a far more dangerous intent.

My mission, shrouded in the clandestine whispers of political intrigue, held a peculiar twist. The order to eliminate the president-elect came not from a rival faction or external threat but from within the winning political party itself. The shocking revelation from my boss underscored the complexity of the task at hand.

As I discreetly approached the target, the weight of the mission settled on my shoulders. The air hummed with celebration and anticipation, unaware of the clandestine motives that lurked beneath the facade of the pre-inauguration festivities. The delicate dance of politics was about to take a sinister turn, and I, disguised as a mere waiter, held the key to an unprecedented act of betrayal within the echelons of power.

The revelation of the Vice President's involvement in the sinister plot added a layer of complexity to the already convoluted mission. As I discreetly moved through the celebratory crowd, my eyes caught the Vice President-to-be staring at the president from a distance, the implications of their betrayal casting a sinister shadow over the political landscape.

In a world where even the highest echelons of power harbored dark secrets, the realization of the Vice President's desire for the president's demise sent a shiver down my spine.

"Hey there!"

With my tray now empty, the urgency of completing the mission gnawed at me. However, a woman's voice called me from around a corner, disrupting my focus. Her suspicious smile beckoned me, presenting a dilemma. I weighed the risks of straying from the mission against the potential consequences of appearing too focused on the task at hand. The balance between blending in and fulfilling my deadly objective became a delicate dance in this intricate web of political intrigue.

Caught in the unexpected turn of events, I followed her into the women's washroom, my mind swirling with questions. The abrupt pull on my left hand and the subsequent door lock left me grappling with the uncertainty of her intentions.

As she meticulously checked each stall, the bizarre thought crossed my mind: Does she want to engage in a clandestine rendezvous with a waiter? The absurdity of the situation mingled with the seriousness of my mission.

"I-what is going on?" I intentionally stuttered, feigning confusion, my eyes darting around the restroom as if seeking answers in its mundane features.

She closed the distance with a smirk, her directive cutting through the awkward atmosphere. "Drop that," she ordered, pointing to the tray I clutched in my hands. The trajectory of the mission took an unexpected detour, and the restroom became an unlikely stage for a clandestine encounter that promised to unravel more things than I had bargained for.

The unexpected encounter took a steamy turn as she forcefully relieved me of the tray, letting it crash to the floor. Confusion still lingered in my expression as she, undeterred, began negotiating with a wad of cash.

"I-I why?" I stammered, seeking some semblance of understanding. Ignoring my question, she tucked the cash into my pocket, pushing me against the restroom door.

Her proximity heightened the tension, and her whispered promise of more cash hung in the air. My internal debate intensified, torn between the urgency of my mission and the tempting allure of instant wealth.

"You look so hot biting your lip like that," she remarked, her touch becoming more intimate. The lines between duty and desire blurred as she planted a peck on my jaw, setting in motion a sequence of events that threatened to unravel the carefully crafted mission I had embarked upon.

Caught in the tumultuous crossroads of duty and desire, I yielded to the intoxicating allure of the moment. Spinning her around, I pinned her against the door, a tempest of conflicting emotions raging within me.

With one hand firmly on the door, I seized her jaw, our eyes locking in a charged exchange. The magnetic pull intensified, our lips drawing closer as I bit mine in anticipation. The proximity between us ignited a palpable tension, her chest pressing against mine.

Just as the threshold of temptation beckoned, a vibrating disturbance emanated from my pants pocket. The intrusion jolted me back to the reality of my mission, prompting a swift release from the captivating embrace.

As the allure of the moment faded, she, too, noticed the source of the disruption. A burner phone, harbinger of the clandestine world I inhabited, revealed itself in her hand-a stark reminder that, even in the throes of passion, the mission's demands remained an ever-present specter.

The abrupt transition from the intense encounter to a chilling act of violence left the air heavy with the weight of the unforeseen. The question about the burner phone lingered in her eyes, demanding an explanation.

"What is this phone?" she inquired, her gaze fixed on me. Recognizing the impending necessity of decisive action, I sighed, bracing myself for the grim task at hand. Swiftly, I twisted her hands and, with a calculated move, subdued her, ensuring her silenced screams wouldn't disturb the clandestine scene.

The burner phone slipped from my grip, landing on the cold floor with an ominous thud. Without a second thought, I ended her life, the crack of her neck punctuating the silence that followed. The room bore witness to the macabre aftermath of a mission carried out in the shadows.

Picking up the burner, I observed the caller's name-my little girl. "My little death trap, why aren't you asleep yet?" I spoke into the phone, the incongruity of the endearing term compared against the grim tableau of the political intrigue and violence that surrounded me.

The comparison of the dark, lethal world I navigated and the innocence in my daughter's voice painted a surreal tableau. Her small voice echoed through the phone, carrying a hint of fear.

"There's a monster in my room," she whispered. I instinctively lowered my voice, responding, "Do you remember what I told you about monsters?"

"That humans are scarier," she replied, a testament to the unconventional bedtime stories I shared with her.

"Good. Monsters will be scared of you when they see you," I assured her, weaving a protective narrative that blurred the lines between reality and fiction.

"Daddy, can I kill the monster?" she innocently inquired, her trust in my words unwavering.

"Of course, you can! My poisonous cactus," I affirmed, the endearing term offering a glimpse into the peculiar dictionary we shared-a fragile bridge connecting the ruthless shadows of my mission with the warmth of paternal affection.

"Then I'll kill it with my spear!"

The comparison of my daughter's innocent chatter about mythical monsters and my gruesome reality presented a surreal contrast. As she asserted her intention to confront the imagined threat with a makeshift spear, I attempted to navigate the delicate balance between parental reassurance and the covert mission at hand.

"Ermm-ticking bomb, Daddy is busy right now. Kill the monster and go to sleep. I'll be home before morning, I love you," I swiftly concluded the call, concealing the complexities of my world from her innocent understanding.

Upon detecting an intruder, I maneuvered the dead woman's body into a stall, concealing the evidence of the grim encounter. Taking position behind the door, I braced myself for the unexpected visitor.

Unlocking and opening the door with precision, I swiftly incapacitated the new arrival with a calculated strike. The restroom became a clandestine battlefield, each move executed with a fluidity born out of necessity in a world where shadows concealed as much as they revealed..

The unplanned act of violence cast a grim shadow over the originally calculated mission. With a surge of anger, I seized the intruder, her struggles becoming futile as I applied a lethal grip around her neck. The air turned dense with tension, the struggle for life playing out silently.

After a few harrowing moments, her resistance ceased, and the life drained from her. Standing amidst the aftermath, frustration welled within me-this deviation from the meticulously laid plan was an unwelcome twist in the narrative.

Ruffling my hair in exasperation, I grappled with the unforeseen consequences, knowing that each unanticipated move brought me further into the labyrinth of an intricate web of deception, leaving me to navigate the darkness with the weight of unintended actions.

This was not part of the plan.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

started: July 9
Ended: September 19