A Love An Ocean Deep

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/28143246.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Ghost9 (Korea Band)
Relationship: Son Junhyung/Kim Suhyun | Shin, Choi Junseong/Pasidh
Vataniyapramote | Prince
Character: Son Junhyung, Hwang Dongjun, Kim Suhyun | Shin, Lee Kangsun,
Choi Junseong, Pasidh Vataniyapramote | Prince, Lee Woojin, Lee
Taeseung, Lee Jinwoo
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Interplanetary Travel, Bounty
Hunters, Outer Space, Science Fiction, Love at First Sight, Major
character death - Freeform, Gun Violence, It gets quite political like all
good sci-fi should, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Esteem Issues, Aliens, Action
Stats: Published: 2020-12-18 Words: 22873

A Love An Ocean Deep

by TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard

Summary

Love is only as deep as you let it be.

Junhyung’s voice came over the intercom and the crackling hiss of it stirred Dongjun out of his
restless sleep. He sat up, winced, and then rubbed the stiffness out of his shoulder. God, he hadn’t
slept well at all. “Junhyung, repeat that.”

“I said we’re finally here after nine thousand lightyears,” Junhyung said. The ship shuddered
harshly as it slowed down.

Dongjun half-crawled half-rolled off of his bunk, tattooed skin and lean muscles flexing as he
scooped up a plain white shirt from off the floor. There was a tiny mirror on the opposite wall and
he took a moment to look into it. A narrow nose, heart-shaped lips, eyes that always seemed a little
sad no matter how hard he was smiling... He slipped the shirt on over his head and, as if on auto-
pilot, pulled on his black leather jacket and matching shoes. Years on the ship had taught him
which way to lean and step to keep himself upright as the vehicle rocked from side to side in the
air. For the finishing touches on his outfit, he tugged a black beanie down over his uncombed hair
and then reached for the case under his bunk. With a few clicks, the case opened and his
disassembled sniper rifle lay before him.
Junhyung came over the intercom again. “There’s actually quite a bit of a line for the docks.
Traffic’s shit. Hope we can find a parking space… This gala must be big news.”

“I’d bloody well like to think so,” Dongjun commented. He was still groggy and heavy-lidded with
sleep, but he knew his weapon inside and out and could put it together in the dark if he needed to…
and there were times he’d needed to. “From what I found out, this is more than just a party. It’s sort
of a business meeting as well. Leaders and shareholders from, like, three planets over are coming.”

Junhyung whistled, impressed. “Politics, man.”

“Glad we don’t get involved.” Dongjun finished assembling his rifle and strapped it over his back
before exiting his cabin. At least this planet was open carry. He wouldn’t look out of place at all.

Junhyung’s ship was old and cramped, but he took good care of it and it had served the group well
over the past few cycles. There was also a thick, fish-like scent that clung to everything but this
wasn’t necessarily Junhyung’s fault.

The ship shuddered again as it drifted lower and lower into the planet’s atmosphere, being buffeted
by wind. It’s engines quieted to a mild roar.

“The place is pretty, though,” Junhyung continued. “Take a look outside when you get the
chance.”

By then, Dongjun had reached the ship’s main living area, a wide open space that still managed to
feel tight when all three of them were in it. Boxes of supplies were stacked up along the wall near
the door, two small computers hummed in a corner, a TV hung on the wall, a fully-stocked gun
rack, a ratty old couch and, most importantly, a wine fridge. There wasn’t space for much else.
“Evenin’, Junseong,” Dongjun mumbled as he walked into the room.

Junseong was seated on the floor, hood pulled low over his face. He was huddled over something
spread out in front of him. “Evening,” he parroted without looking up. He was so quiet. There were
times when it was easy for Dongjun to forget he was even in the room.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen a big city,” Dongjun said as he approached the bank of
portholes along the starboard side and peered through one of them. The city below them was
beautiful, but it was something he barely noticed as he scanned the place for threats. His trained
sniper eyes were always on the lookout for danger. Almost without meaning to, he asked himself
questions: Weren’t those ships flying a little too low? Aren’t the streets a little narrow for this
volume of traffic? The crowds seemed quite heavy and unregulated. Were there no transport tubes?
He definitely wasn’t in the mood for being jostled around. “Oi, Junseong,” he called out as the ship
veered hard to starboard, preparing to dock. There was an answering grunt behind him. “What can
you tell me about this city?”

There was silence, and then Junseong was suddenly at the window next to him. The boy peered
through the glass, but only for a moment before he seemed to lose interest. “Absolutely nothing.”

Dongjun frowned. “What? Why?” He had honestly thought Junseong was going to tell him
something after all of that build-up.

“This is my first time coming here. Does it look like I know anything about this place?”

Dongjun stared at him for a long moment.

“Oh, come on! That doesn’t count.” Junseong folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t go around
asking you what every specific human city is like.” With an offended sigh, he backed away from
the window and then plopped back down on the floor where he’d been sharpening his knives.

Dongjun turned back to the great view. Talking with Junseong could be difficult sometimes and
Dongjun couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to the kid’s species or simply his age. Dongjun
hadn’t met too many others of Junseong’s kind to determine if it was simply his personality or not.
Junhyung steered the ship closer and closer to the docks, a massive and gleaming floating building
with hundreds or even thousands of ships of all shapes and sizes parked along its numerous decks.
It was larger than any dock Dongjun had seen on any human-settled planet and the size of it made
him nervous. “It’s not what I expected, you know. The city, I mean.”

“What did you think it was going to be?” Junseong wondered.

“I don’t know… underwater, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m sure they have pools.”

Dongjun didn’t know if this statement was sarcastic or not so he didn’t respond.
The amphibious, mermaid-like Arari tended to settle on cooler, wetter planets or planets covered in
thick, lush rainforests. This planet, on the other hand, was covered in towering skyscrapers and
practically glowing with neon lights. This is what human-settled planets looked like. Junseong
must have come to this same conclusion because he cleared his throat to speak. “This planet is
close to major travel routes. Arari aren’t the only species that live here, but they do rule it now.”

This made Dongjun feel slightly better, but not enough. He turned away from the window to face
Junseong still sitting on the floor. “But can you really tell me nothing about this place? I mean,
you’ve got to know something about Arari customs.”

Junseong didn’t look up from his knives. “Compliment them all the time. They are vain as all get
out. Maybe wave something shiny in front of their face and hope they don’t bite your hand off
trying to take it from you.”

This information wasn’t too helpful because Dongjun knew this much simply from living with
Junseong. The Arari were a species that originated several sectors over but were able to spread
their influence this far due to their instinctual desire to collect . They were a fearsome people, if
only because they were territorial and quick to get violent in defense of their possessions. This
violence was commonplace among themselves, nothing to bat eyelashes over, but to other species,
such casual violence was seen as quite savage. Even the humans, who were historically known to
betray their kind to get more things paled in comparison to the unquenchable ambition of the Arari.
This is why many human-settled planets feared galactic war, as it would only be a few more
generations before the Arari spread far enough to come into conflict with human sectors.

Politics, man.

“Are you really that disconnected from your own heritage,” Dongjun said, “that you don’t know
anything more specific than that?”

Junseong said nothing, but based on his white-knuckled grip on the knife in his hand, Dongjun had
clearly struck a nerve. Dongjun sighed wearily and then crossed the remaining half of the room.
He stopped at the entrance of the hallway that led to the ship’s bridge and gave Junseong a glance
over his shoulder. The younger man clearly had Arari in his bloodline. Grandparents. And his
mother. He tried so very hard to hide it, but if you only took a second to look, you could see it in
the nearly transparent, frilly tips of his slim ears he always kept hidden beneath the hood of his
sweatshirt. You could see it in the faint orange glow of his eyes or the peculiar sharpness of his
teeth. You could hear it in the ease with which his tongue rolled over the r’s of the complicated
Arari language. There was also the several times Dongjun had gone to the bathroom in the middle
of the night only to discover Junseong asleep at the bottom of the bathtub full of water, air bubbles
breaking the surface in rhythm with his breathing (but the boy refused to show Dongjun his gills,
even after all these years.)

“I can feel you staring at me,” Junseong muttered.

Dongjun blinked, taken aback, and he would have apologized but the ship landed on the parking
deck with a violent shake and the engines abruptly cut out. Junhyung spoke over the intercom, “I
told you we should have taken the Interplanet. We could have come all the way up Spaceway
2100-G9, hyper-jumped to Oleander and then transferred to I-749.”

“Nothing wrong with the scenic route,” Dongjun shouted back. It had taken them nearly a week
and had them at their destination at the absolute last minute, but they had shit else to do. “Plus, fuel
is cheaper on the smaller planets… and as many times as we had to stop-”

“But the speed limit ,” Junhyung complained loudly. “I felt like we were crawling. We could have
been here three and a half days ago if I could speed.”

“And what would we have done on an alien planet for that long?”

“I don’t know… sleep! Met some women. Or men. Or what have you. You know I’m down for
anything.”

Dongjun rolled his eyes. His gaze fell back on Junseong and those knives. There had to be at least
sixty of them. An unnecessary amount, in Dongjun’s opinion. But maybe the Arari blood was
stronger in Junseong than he cared to admit because knives were clearly the thing the boy had
chosen to collect and fixate on. Before he got admonished for staring again, Dongjun left the room,
turned down the hallway and pressed open the door to the bridge. The view out the massive front
windshield wasn’t too impressive. Just row after row of ships and the hazy blur of twilit clouds.

Junhyung heard the door open and turned to look up at him. He was handsome in an almost
unsettling way. Mischief always twinkled in his dark eyes and his smirks always made it seem like
he was up to no good. (He usually wasn’t.) It wasn’t until the pilot raised a hand to run it through
his thick hair that Dongjun realized that Junhyung, to put it bluntly, did look half-dead. Dongjun
scrunched up his face at the sight of the dark bags under Junhyung’s eyes. “You know how
dangerous it is to push yourself like that? Especially flying. You could have got me out of bed
hours ago. I would have flown,” he said. “It was probably my turn anyway.”

Junhyung shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. For real, man. I needed something to take my mind off
the last job.”

The last job.

Dongjun had been trying to forget it, too. A bad winter storm had struck on the planet they’d been
visiting, delaying them for days. Trapping them inside the ship. They’d ran out of fuel, had eaten
their way through their rations and would have frozen to death in the powered-down ship if it
weren’t for the extremely lucky timing of a passing garbage collection ship. On top of that, they
were so behind schedule on the delivery that their client only paid them a quarter of their asking
price. In other words, they barely got enough money to resupply. The job was hardly worth doing.
And definitely not worth the smudge on their reputation.

“Where’s Junseong?” Junhyung spoke up, snapping Dongjun out of his memories. “Is he excited to
be back on his home planet?”

As if summoned, Junseong appeared at the bridge’s narrow door. “Umm, I was born on the same
planet you were, Junhyung.”

At this, Dongjun snorted back a laugh. Junhyung just shrugged before his eyes fell on Dongjun.
“Are you really going to take your rifle to such a festive event?”

Dongjun blinked. “In case it rains.”

“Good, now I don’t feel as bad,” Junseong said, then lifted the heavy fabric of his oversize
sweatshirt to reveal his flat stomach and a trio of long knives sheathed at his hip.

“We’re all on the same page then,” Junhyung said, shifting in the pilot’s seat to reveal a small
plasma blaster tucked into the waistband of his pants.

Then again, the three of them couldn’t be too careful. Everywhere they went, they made enemies.
It was the sort of thing that happened when you were professional bounty hunters, assassinating
everyone from tyrannical presidents to corrupt bank managers to the dude down the street who
looked at my girl wrong . If the client could meet their pricing, they took on any job. And that’s
what brought them all the way out to this planet on the night of an extravagant gala. Some high-
ranking military officials in the Arari community had a personal score to settle while everyone else
danced the night away. This tidbit in and of itself had Junseong suspicious, since Arari most
certainly didn’t didn’t hesitate to get their hands bloody, but Dongjun was never one to pass up
easy credits.

The three of them disembarked from the ship and made the long journey along the parking deck
and properly into the floating station. Unlike on most other planets, security was pitifully lax and
no one blinked at the men’s obviously-forged paperwork. Even on an open carry planet, Dongjun’s
long-barreled rifle didn’t stand out half as much as he’d feared. Most of the Arari present were
clearly armed and the space station was filled with the musical sounds of the language.

“I’m surprised security’s not tighter,” Junhyung pointed out, the human tongue sounded heavy and
percussive in comparison to the alien tongue. He procured a hard candy from a bag in one of his
multiple pockets and crunched on it obnoxiously. “Shouldn’t they be checking weapons at every
door? If political leaders and CEOs were gathering like this anywhere else, you couldn’t get a gun
even remotely close.”

“You humans,” Junseong scoffed, “always assuming that just because someone’s carrying a
weapon that they intend to harm you with it.”

“Says a member of the most violent and war-hungry species in the galaxy,” Junhyung shot back.

“That’s the thing,” the half-blooded Arari said. “If an Arari really means you harm, they’ll use
their bare hands. Not something cowardly like a firearm.”

There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver up Dongjun’s spine, which was
odd because he was usually hard to make uncomfortable. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah?
Like why our client chose tonight of all bloody nights to meet with us.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Junhyung said sarcastically. “If I wanted to plan my nemesis’s death, it
would be while he’s getting drunk at a block party. Do it right and it could look like a drunken
accident.”

Dongjun accepted this logic and led the way towards the dock’s grand elevator that would take
them the rest of the way to the planet’s surface. Standing shoulder to shoulder with multiple Arari
in the elevator, he felt suddenly diminutive and insignificant in his human skin. He tugged on the
sleeve of Junseong’s sweatshirt to get his attention. “You really can’t give me any tips on dealing
with Arari? I don’t want to piss off the guy who is about to pay us.”

“I really don’t think you have to worry about accidentally offending someone.”
“You’re not screwing with me, yeah? We don’t deal with your kind a lot.” It wasn’t until the
sentence was out of his mouth that he realized how badly he’d worded it. Quickly, he glanced
around the large elevator but no one seemed to be paying them any particular mind. Most Arari
thought it beneath them to learn human languages but that didn’t mean no one was eavesdropping.

“Let’s not talk about the job until we actually get the job,” Junseong stated.

Good point.

When the elevator reached the surface, the trio were swept up in the tide of swiftly moving Arari
and followed the crowd north up a few major streets. After a couple blocks, Junhyung plugged in
the coordinates their client had sent into his watch and they followed the GPS’s recommended
route. They detoured around crowded areas as best they could, at Dongjun’s urging.

After a good hour and a half of walking (traffic was too bad to even consider a cab), they made it to
the dome-shaped building marked as their destination. Though calling it a building was an
understatement. It was more of a palace. The place was already packed for the event, even though
the gala didn’t officially start until this planet’s equivalent of midnight. Arari were dressed in their
absolute gaudiest. The few humans and fox-like Vrakken in the crowd may have been in their
finest suits and dresses, but what they wore looked like dish rags next to the Arari. No one could
do shiny like those guys.

Dongjun grew anxious again. He wasn’t used to seeing so many people gathered under one roof.
Then again, he’d spent the past four or five years traveling almost entirely alone. The last crew
he’d joined hadn’t lasted very long. He’d only been working with Junhyung about a cycle and a
half. He’d been working with Junseong even less than that. Anyone else they saw was either
paying them or fleeing from them.

In other words, it was hard to make friends.

Finally, they managed to get inside the main building. The thunderous echo of a thousand voices
bounced off the tall stone walls. The towering windows were polished to an almost mirror shine.
The floors were made of such finely-cut crystal that they appeared completely clear beneath their
shoes. The sensation was similar to floating in the air. Dongjun kept expecting his next step to send
him plummeting downward through some crack he couldn’t see. In each room they passed
through, massive, gilded columns held up rounded ceilings painted like ancient cathedrals.
Dongjun had to wince. Everywhere he looked, something was glittering or literally glowing and
the hodgepodge of decorative styles all came together into a tacky, kitschy mess. At least in his
eyes. As they walked, however, Dongjun could see the amazement in Junseong’s stare. An
amazement he was trying so very hard (but failing quite obviously) to hide.

Wave something shiny in front of their face.

Junhyung led the way up flight after flight of stairs, then down a few corridors, glancing at the
GPS on his watch at each corner. The higher up they went, the thinner the crowd became until,
around the fourth or fifth floor, it was only their trio of footsteps. The floor was so clear they could
see everyone partying below. The three of them rounded a corner and came into a wide, sweeping
chamber. It was the emptiest chamber in the entire palace but, in the center, was a large and
cylindrical construct. Like a small, indoor tower. The massive door at its base was guarded by a
squadron of men too plainly dressed to be Arari.

One of the guards looked up at their approach and stepped forward, the casual hand on his hip
wasn’t so casual, as it put his hand near the grip of his old-fashioned sword.

“I’ll talk to him,” the half-blooded Arari volunteered and picked up his pace to meet the guard
halfway.

“You don’t need to. He’s hu-” Dongjun called after him, but Junhyung elbowed him in the ribs.

“Here.” Junghyung offered Dongjun a handful of the hard candies he’d been snacking on since the
parking deck. “Let’s watch him embarrass himself. We’ve got the best seat in the house.”

This was going to be good.

As Junseong and the guard neared each other, Junseong began to speak in the Arari tongue. The
guard looked surprised, glanced over his shoulder in mild confusion and then turned back to face
Junseong with a frown. The half-Arari, bless his heart, didn’t quite notice and pressed on, the sing-
song consonants of the language rushing together as his nervousness took over. He finally stopped
to catch his breath and an awkward silence settled over them.

“You the guys the Prince hired?” The guard said in a human language. He made a big show about
looking them up and down. Assessing them.
The look on Junseong’s face when he turned all the way around to look at them made Junhyung
laugh and then nearly choke on his candy. Dongjun, at least, stepped forward to remedy the
situation. He put a hand on Junseong’s shoulder. “Our apologies, mate. We travel a lot. Don’t really
see a lot of other people. He didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offense taken. Come this way,” the guard said, and he stepped towards the door. Dongjun
noticed how he didn’t turn his back completely to them, didn’t leave himself vulnerable like he
thought he was about to get jumped.

Perhaps their reputation had spread farther than Dongjun assumed.

The guard said, “I’m Kangsung. My crew was hired to guard the Prince tonight.”

That was the second time their client had been called a prince. “So this really is a palace?” Dongjun
had to ask.

“God no,” Kangsung huffed. “This is just the mayor’s summer home.”

Junhyung made some kind of impressed noise in the back of his throat that quickly dissolved into a
second almost-choking fit. This time, at least, he shoved the bag of candy back into his pocket. A
third time wouldn’t be a charm, he figured, especially since neither of his teammates had even
slapped him on the back or asked if he was fine.

They reached the large door and the remaining line of armed guards. Only then did Kangsung turn
entirely away from them to mutter orders to the men in his command. Junseong took this moment
to lean close to Dongjun. “The Arari have no royalty,” he whispered. “Leadership is decided only
through martial skill, not bloodline. Prince must be some kind of nickname.”

“So you do know Arari customs,” Dongjun said, too loudly for Junseong’s tastes.

Dongjun never quite understood why the kid seemed to be so ashamed of his heritage. Sure, the
Arari were a little terrifying and human history books were dominated by horror stories, but the
Arari themselves he personally found absolutely fascinating. Well, maybe Junseong’s hiding of his
birthright wouldn’t stand out so much if he wasn’t so terrible at hiding things. When they were
visiting other planets or out on a job, maybe Dongjun could understand the secrecy. Arari weren’t
exactly welcomed in human civilizations in more centralized sectors… but on the ship? When it
was just the three of them? There was no reason for him to do so but Junseong still hid his ears, hid
his gills, hid his accent, hid the glow of his eyes behind contacts. In the early months of the three of
them hunting bounties together, Junseong’s behavior had made Dongjun wonder if he slept in a
cabin next to an Arari traitor or perhaps even some kind of government spy.

But hey, maybe some people were just cautious.

Kangsung finished what business he had with his men and turned to face the trio. “The Prince is
one of the honored guests of tonight’s events and is expected to give a speech.” He glanced down
at his watch, then grabbed hold of the door handle and gave it a heave. “So this can’t exactly last
too long. We expected you to be here,” he gave them a dirty look, “more promptly. This is long
after our agreed upon time.”

“Should have taken the Interplanet,” Junhyung exhaled softly, then brushed past Dongjun to walk
through the large door first. Dongjun ignored the comment and gave Junseong a reassuring nudge
before he walked forward next.

After going up a wide, spiraling staircase, they found themselves at the very top of the dome-
shaped building, surrounded by windows. The rest of the so-called ‘summer home’ somehow
didn’t compare to the over-the-top impossibility of this bedroom. The ceiling and walls, much like
the floors elsewhere, was made of clear crystal, giving them a near-panoramic view of the
glittering city. Yet such a breathtaking view was partially blocked by the sheer number of things in
the room. Artistic statues, large musical instruments that Dongjun couldn’t even name, countless
paintings in gold leaf frames, swaths of patterned cloth hanging on the backs of far too many
chairs. There was just too much of everything, and Dongjun wondered how their individual beauty
was supposed to be appreciated if they were all thrown together like this.

“Gracious,” Junhyung commented from next to him, eyes trained on the massive chandelier above
them.

Other than the three of them, there were only two people in the room. One stood in the center of
the room, facing the top of the stairs as if he’d been waiting for them. The other sat in one of the
too many chairs, unmoving.

The sight of them made Junseong stop in his tracks and suck in a sharp breath. How on earth could
he mistake Kangsung as Arari? Perhaps he was otherworldly-looking, but he wasn’t beautiful . Not
like the man in the chair. He had to be the Prince, Junseong figured. The Arari had no royalty but a
crown wouldn’t seem foreign on his brow. The dark-haired Prince was watching them curiously,
eyes dancing over them and evaluating them. Absently, his fingers toyed with his thick bottom lip.
His sharp jawline looked like it could cut the crystal floor he tapped his foot impatiently on. There
was no telling how long they kept him waiting and Junseong wanted to turn and leave the room
immediately out of shame but there was just something about the Prince that kept him looking.
Something odd. Something instinctive.

“Finally,” the man who was not the Prince snapped. “We’d almost given up on you showing up.
We were about to say screw it to the whole thing and head on to the gala. I was just about to start
picking out his clothes when I heard that human’s awful, honking voice from downstairs. I’m
assuming you’re the bounty hunters but how can you be? Wow, okay. Look at those scrawny
arms.” He narrowed his eyes in Dongjun’s direction.

“Oi, I don’t need muscle mass to pull a trigger,” Dongjun defended himself, then he remembered
they were in front of their client and dropped the volume of his voice. “But you look great. Your
hair is quite impeccable.” Compliment them all the time. They are vain as all get out.

As expected, the Arari immediately went from looking angry to looking flattered. His cheeks
flushed with color. “Oh, I didn’t do anything special. It’s just a little chapstick!”

“Taeseung.” It was the Prince that had spoken. Even that one word sounded like an entire song.

The man named Taeseung sighed wearily. “Okay, okay.” To have complained about Dongjun’s
muscle mass, he wasn’t all that much larger. In fact, he seemed even more fragile-looking, but
there was a casual savagery to the angle of his eyebrows that Dongjun didn’t like. Like he was used
to not being impressed by anything or anyone. Like he lived to cause problems on purpose. In fact,
right then, Taeseung looked at the three bounty hunters before him with barely concealed
contempt, determined that Junseong was the most intelligent-looking of them and stepped closer to
him. “No time for pleasantries. On to the business we discussed earlier. Here’s your target.” He
tapped a few buttons on his watch before pulling up a holographic image.

“A Vrakken?” Dongjun asked, eyebrow raised and voice shooting up an octave in confusion. He
couldn’t get a good look at the photo from this angle, but it was very easy to spot the animal-like
ears and the long, slender nose. If Arari were like fish, then Vrakken were like foxes. “You want us
to kill a Vrakken?”

Taeseung ignored him, his eyes trained on Junseong as if he were the only one of them that
mattered. “His name’s Suhyun. From a well-to-do family with a few start-up businesses under his
belt. Showed up here just shy of an Earth year ago, throwing his credits around willy-nilly and
buying up property. He’s definitely attracted a lot of… attention .”

“But why does this make him a worthy target?” Dongjun asked, eyes flitting over the rest of the
information hovering beneath the photo.

“He’s tainting the Arari name,” Taeseung said flatly, as if this were obvious, scientific fact. “We
rule this planet now. We command this sector. By allowing him to continue like this, we show the
rest of the galaxy that we see others as equal species. That we can be approached. That we have
gone soft and are placated by credits rather than blood.” He was getting himself rather worked up,
his face red and his voice nasty and dark. Dongjun took a step back out of precaution. “Economists
have predicted that if he keeps buying out companies at the rate he’s going, he’ll have enough
control of this planet’s income to start being able to…” He seemed to struggle with the words.
“...make decisions. Be on councils. Have power . The Vrakken population has already skyrocketed
in recent months and we can’t have that.”

Politics, man.

“So we kill him now,” Junhyung predicted, “before he buys you out of house and home and the
Vrakken encroach on your territory.”

Taeseung turned to him, pondered his statement, then accepted it. He turned his bright eyes back
on Junseong. “He will obviously be here tonight for the gala. But he returns to his home planet for
vacation in the morning.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Dongjun wondered. He was still hung up on the idea of hunting down
a Vrakken. They seemed too much like harmless animals to him. Vrakken usually were peace-
loving creatures, the definition of good and kind, or at least that’s what the stereotypes led
Dongjun to believe. “If he’s leaving the planet, you can make moves to reclaim your property
while he’s gone.”

“It’s true he will be gone,” Taeseung answered, still focused on Junseong as if he was the one
who’d spoken. “But we’re sure he’ll be back with even more money and even more ambition. So
you kill him tonight at the gala.”

“Tonight?” Dongjun repeated lamely. He’d assumed they’d follow the target back to his home
planet. “We usually don’t work in so small a timeframe.” Normally, when they got a job, they had
days or even weeks to prepare, to follow their mark and learn their routine so the three of them
could spring a trap when their actions were least likely to be witnessed or interrupted. But to be
asked to kill their mark in a building full of hundreds and hundreds of people? Dongjun liked
impossible odds but this was a bit much.

“We knew you’d be skeptical,” Taeseung said, still gesturing to Junseong as if he were the only
one in the room. “So we have decided to offer you twice our previously agreed on amount.” He
stepped away, rose pink fabrics flourishing, and retrieved a case that sat on top of the lavish bed.
When he brought it to them, he spun in the combination lock and popped it open, revealing row
after row after row of gold, wafer-thin credits.

Junhyung let out an impressed whistle.

Junseong just about made grabby-hands.

Dongjun had to blink rapidly, both to assure himself he wasn’t seeing things and to fight the harsh
glare of the gold. It had been months since he’d seen so many credits at once. Their last few jobs
hadn’t gone so well.

“This is only half,” Taeseung announced. “You will get the rest at the end of the night if you are
successful.”

“Half?” Junhyung said and whistled again. Junseong, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the feeling
that he was being watched. He glanced up, only to make direct eye contact with the Prince.
Startled, he turned away, focusing all of his attention on the case full of credits.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Dongjun stated, “this building is massive. Do you know when
Suhyun will arrive or where he’s most likely to be?”

Taeseung shook his head then snapped the case shut with finality. “We know he has plans on
announcing some absurd donation amount to a human charity. How crass, right?” He laughed and
put a hand on Junseong’s arm as if prompting him to laugh as well. He didn’t.

It wasn’t until now that Dongjun became annoyed with the Arari’s obvious, deliberate attempt to
ignore him and he opened his mouth to say something rude about it when Junseong spoke for the
first time since entering the room. “Why not kill him yourself? Are you not Arari?” Junseong’s
voice came out more firmly than he’d said anything tonight. Perhaps too firmly, as a heavy silence
fell over the room and everyone stared at Taeseung, awaiting his reaction.

“But Suhyun is not Arari,” Taeseung offered eventually, far more calmly than Dongjun would
have expected after such an outburst. “He is Vrakken so our Arari code does not apply even if he
owns our land. We are not barbarians who kill indiscriminately.”
“So you say,” Junhyung had the guts to whisper.

There was no way Taeseung did not hear him, but he chose not to comment.

“Instead of killing him yourselves, you want us to do it,” Junseong reiterated.

“The Vrakken will die,” Taeseung said. He held out the case of credits. “You will do it.” It wasn’t
phrased as a question or a request. It was a demand.

“We will,” Dongjun said, stepping forward to take the case. It was heavier than he imagined it
would be, but it felt solid and secure in his hands.

“Alright then,” Taeseung continued. “You’re dismissed. I hope you all brought a change of clothes
because it looked like you lot got dressed in the dark.”

“Well, I think the cost of new clothes will be covered,” Junhyung said, pointing to the case. “We
just have to hope all the tailors nearby still have stock. We don’t have a lot of time left. The gala’s
probably gearing up officially now. We need to get a move on.” This last part he said to Dongjun
and Junseong.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Dongjun said and held out his hand to Taeseung for
him to shake but the Arari ignored it. It was an odd standoff. Neither of them giving in. The silence
stretched awkwardly thin before Junhyung got a good grip on Dongjun’s sleeve and pulled him
away. The three of them made their way back down the high stairs with Dongjun struggling a bit
between the awkward shape of his rifle and the heaviness of the case.

“I don’t like this,” Junhyung said as they made their way down.

Dongjun stumbled on a stair. “Don’t like what?”

“I don’t know yet, but I don’t like it.”

As if they were expected, the large door opened as they got to the bottom of the stairs. “So how
was it?” Kangsung asked casually. “I would hope after traveling so far that you accepted the job?”
“Why do you want to know?” Junhyung asked at the same instant Dongjun said, “How much do
you know about us?”

Kangsung glanced from one to the other. “Well, we were told enough about you and your reason
for being here tonight to not shoot or stab you on sight.”

“Good enough answer for me,” Junhyung muttered.

Dongjun, on the other hand, wasn’t as accepting. Matters like this were supposed to be confidential
and discreet. The less people that knew, the less likely their target would find out about the hit and
then make moves to escape or protect themselves. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell other people
we’re here, mate.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Kangsung said with a shrug. “I mean, you guys did come right
on in through the front door. Anyone with eyes would know you’re here.”

Dongjun tensed. He would have taken a step forward if Junhyung hadn’t spoken up. “Well there
are plenty of people here that could be a target so I still think we’re in the clear, Dongjun.”

The tense moment continued, everyone’s voices low and dangerous. Junseong was about to speak
up to try to diffuse the situation when he realized someone was asking for his attention in Arari. He
whirled around, surprised to see Taeseung standing in the open doorway behind him. “Umm, did
you need something?” he asked in a human tongue, hoping beyond hope that the little bit of
heavily-practiced Arari he’d spoken to Kangsung earlier hadn’t given him away.

Unfortunately, Taeseung didn’t exactly notice the subtlety. He continued to speak in Arari. “Tell
your pig friends to do this job without you because the Prince wants to see you. Now.”

Junseong looked behind him. The rising argument had died down and now everyone was facing
them, eyebrows raised. Clearly, none of them understood the intricacies of the Arari tongue.
Junseong turned back to Taeseung and once again tried a human language. “Why would he want to
see me?”

“No questions. Just come,” Taeseung said, at least this time in a language the rest of them
understood.
With a sigh, Junseong looked at Dongjun. “The Prince has a special assignment for me,” he lied.
He had no clue what the Prince wanted. “Maybe it’s even a separate job?” He laughed it off,
nervousness building up in him.

There was a brief silence where he was sure his partners wouldn’t buy the lie, then Junhyung
laughed, too. “We’ve never done a job with just two of us… but,” he turned to Dongjun, “we can
handle it, right?”

“Sure thing,” Dongjun said, shifting the money case rather clumsily under one arm so that he could
give a thumbs up. “More credits the better. We can afford actual food now.”

After an awkward string of goodbyes, the two of them left. Watching them walk away on the
dreamlike crystal-clear floor, Junseong was certain that he would blink and be completely alone. In
the past few cycles, he’d rarely spent more than a few moments without Dongjun or Junhyung in
sight. He stared after them until they disappeared down the stairs.

“Didn’t I say the Prince wanted to see you now ?” Taeseung’s sudden growl made him jump.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Junseong muttered and then started back up the winding flight of stairs.
Every few steps, he glanced down to see Taeseung staring up in his direction, his expression
unreadable. What could the Prince possibly want? Had he done something wrong? Had his earlier
outburst upset the Prince?

When he reached the top of the stairs, he wasn’t expecting to see the Prince standing only a short
distance away. He was taller than he looked stretched out on the chair and Junseong took a
shocked step backwards. This close up, the iridescent scales on the Prince’s arms and neck shifted
in color from nearly-translucent to seafoam green to pearly pink to midnight blue and back again.
As he breathed, the gills on the sides of his throat opened and closed with the faintest, airy
movement.

Junseong didn’t know what to do. Did he meet the Prince’s eyes? Or would it be disrespectful to
look away? He decided to go with a happy medium and continued staring at the Prince’s gills.

“Why do you hide?” The Prince said in Arari. His voice was dangerous and enchanting, like a
whirlpool at sea.
Junseong could feel it drawing him in, taking him over, but in a human tongue, he began, “I don’t
know what you’re saying-”

“Don’t speak to me in such a lowly language. I know you are Arari. Unlike your human
companions, you do not reek.”

The half-Arari didn’t say anything. The last place he wanted to be was right here, without his
friends to hide behind. He didn’t feel like himself this far away from the others. Perhaps if he
remained mute, the Prince would send him on his way and he could leave this room and find them.

Of course, things wouldn’t be that easy. “Lower your hood,” the Prince said. He wasn’t angry, at
least not yet. Just impatient. He spoke with the brevity of a person who was used to never being
questioned. Junseong remembered that this man, despite his boyish face and young age, was a
general in this planet’s army, probably with thousands of Arari at his command.

Yet even knowing this, Junseong resisted. He wasn’t a soldier so he didn’t have to listen, right? He
balled his hands into fists and kept his eyes on the agitated shifting of the Prince’s gills.

“Lower your hood,” the Prince said again. He stepped closer and the sudden movement brought
his scent heady and strong to Junseong’s nose. A memory sparked in his head: his mother’s laugh,
his grandparents’ doting smiles, a black sand beach and frothy, blue blue blue waves. Home . The
intensity of the memory caught Junseong so off-guard that he raised his hands to the hood of his
sweatshirt and pulled it away from his curly sand-colored hair.

He was ashamed of his ears. He always had been. They weren’t quite as thin and delicate as a true
Arari. His half-human genetics made them look like deformities; mangled and chewed flesh-
colored fins. They disgusted him, which was why he always hid them and why his face colored
with humiliation when the Prince reached out to touch them. For the first time, Junseong looked up
and met his eyes. They glowed a sharp orange, ferocious and bright, but they weren’t even the
most beautiful thing about him. His long nose, the pattern of spots on his ears, the brilliance of his
scales. What was most beautiful of all was his smile , his shark-like teeth gleaming like a chest full
of treasure. He was smiling. Smiling at Junseong.

“You must show pride,” the Prince said sternly, fingers dipping in and out of the grooves of
Junseong’s ears. “Arari do not hide.”

“I’m not Arari,” Junseong trembled.

The Prince’s hands dropped from his ears. “You are .” He took another step closer, too close, and
his scent washed over Junseong again.

This time, a nastier memory flared up in his head.

The same beach, the same hot sun, the same foghorn laughter of his mother. But now he saw his
dad, floundering in the sea. The Arari family had gotten caught up in their playful game, too
excited to think that it was dangerous for a human. Too blissed out with the sun in their hair and
the ocean beneath their feet, they had drifted quite far from the black coast, chanting “Come on,
come on, just a bit further.” The five of them were in the final rounds of their game and had
mistaken the human man’s blubbering and splashing as part of the sport. His sputtering and crying
for help sounded so much like their gleeful chattering. When Junseong thought about it now, he
wondered how none of them realized the man was suffering. Or maybe they all knew . Maybe they
knew and still dragged the man farther away from safety. Junseong vividly remembered that he
was laughing as well, with his mother and grandparents, the loudest of them all. He remembered
enjoying the salt of the sea in his gills and the look of desperation on his father’s face as he
drowned right in front of him, milky face fading away as the ocean swallowed him.

“No!” Junseong was still in the memory, still wrapped up in his guilt. Instinctively, his hand went
for his knives but the Prince grasped his long, pale neck and pressed their mouths together like it
was nothing.

Junseong snapped out of it.

He was back in the room, back in his skin. The Prince’s tongue touched his and it felt as nice as a
summer day, umbrellas and towels lined up along the tide’s edge from one horizon to the other.

But Junseong didn’t want to think about the beach.

He drew back from the Prince, gasping for air.

“How can you deny you are Arari?” The Prince asked after a very long time. He sounded genuinely
confused, unable to wrap his head around Junseong’s self-hate. “How can you say you are not
Arari when you are so clearly Arari?” Boldly, he reached for the hem of Junseong’s sweatshirt, his
hand slid up the man’s torso like he already knew every inch of his body and then his fingers
brushed against the half-Arari’s gills below his armpits. He said nothing else. He didn’t have to.
Junseong bit his bottom lip, paralyzed with humiliation. He’d been trying to keep this part of
himself hidden for so long and a man he’d only known for moments had dredged it to the surface
in seconds.
Junseong almost wanted to cry or at the very least run away and hide beneath his hood, but with
the Prince looking at him like this, he could barely breathe. He could barely move. Long moments
passed, the seconds accumulating in the narrow distance between their faces. They held each
other's gazes, two oceans meeting.

“Accompany me,” the Prince said, so softly that his voice was more a vibration than a sound.

“What?” Junseong slipped back into a human tongue in shock. The word the Prince had used only
meant one thing in Arari. “W-w-what do you mean?”

The Prince didn’t seem as bothered by the human language this time. His thumb was still pressed
against Junseong’s gill, massaging fire into his nerve endings. Junseong felt as fluid as water and as
solid as ice from the simple touch.

“Accompany me to the gala,” the Prince clarified, the language like a melody in his throat. “And
then accompany me in life.”

The weight of it slammed down on Junseong’s chest, chasing the air from his lungs. He had to
gasp. “Are you asking me to marry -” He stopped. He realized he was still speaking a human
language. It took a conscious effort to switch to Arari, to remember the beautiful pattern of sounds.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t even know each other’s names. Plus, what will all the
important people downstairs think if you show up with a half-human-”

The Prince cut him off by snatching his jaw with one hand and tilting his head back. With the
other, he pulled Junseong’s pink lips away from his teeth. Junseong could taste the saltwater of the
Prince’s fingers and he swallowed hard. His human genes had somewhat rounded a handful of his
teeth, but the majority of them were still razor sharp and able to break skin. “My name is Pasidh
Vataniyapramote ,” the Prince said in Arari and, satisfied with what he saw, he pulled away from
Junseong. “And you are Arari.”

Meanwhile, a floor or two lower in the house, Dongjun had found a small balcony where he could
set up his sniper rifle.

The weapon had made moving around in the thick crowd harder before, but now he was thankful
that he’d brought it along. If he would have had to trek across the city and back to retrieve it from
the ship, the gala would have come and gone. His Vrakken target would have gotten away
unscathed.
The music in the place was near deafening. It thrummed through his bones about as violently as
the shaking of Junhyung’s old ship. Dongjun’s role in the group, as sniper, was to have a bird’s eye
view of the situation and to provide cover fire for the other two if things got out of hand. It was
usually riskier for him to go after the target himself unless the shot was guaranteed. And, set up on
the balcony like he was, he wasn’t confident that he’d be able to make the shot.

Too many innocent people around.

A million ways for things to go wrong.

Certainly, someone was bound to walk up on him and catch him long before he got the chance to
pull the trigger. It’s not like he was well hidden here, what with the clear floors and all, but the
ballroom below was lit with flickering, distracting lights. Besides, anyone who was anyone was too
busy looking at the fashion on display or dancing and drinking away their problems to look all the
way up here at the lone human with a gun about as long as he was tall. Or at least that’s what
Dongjun told himself repeatedly.

“Oi, have you found him yet? It’s been thirty minutes,” Dongjun spoke into his watch. They’d
bought cheap tuxedos from a tailor three blocks down and his was a size or two too small, tight
around his chest and elbows and hips.

Despite the echo of the music that came over the line, Junhyung’s voice was clear. “I’m trying not
to ask around too much to avoid drawing attention, but there aren’t too many Vrakken here in the
first place so he’s gotta be one of them.”

“Define too many because I feel like I’ve seen a bloody lot of them.”

“Well, there are quite a few who can’t get in. The Arari guards at the door are actually turning
most of them away.”

“Maybe there’s a limit to the number of people-”

“No,” Junhyung interrupted. “They are letting Arari through. They are purposefully keeping
Vrakken out.”
“Vrakken and Arari don’t exactly get along. They are like cats and mice. Predator and prey.”

“Yeah, but if you are going to hold such a massive political event like this, one that’s literally
celebrating the achievements of this multicultural city, then why exclude part of the population?”

“I think you’re thinking too hard about this.”

“I think you’re not thinking hard enough,” Junhyung said. “We aren’t being told the whole story
here. How can you live together on the planet but then so openly discriminate against each other?”

This wasn’t the kind of conversation they should be getting too deep in. They regularly traveled
from one end of the galaxy to the other and nearly every sector, every planet, had wildly different
views on interspecies interactions. What could the three of them do on their own? Dongjun
shrugged, then remembered Junhyung couldn’t see him on the audio-only line. “Living together
doesn’t necessarily mean getting along.” It was his attempt at bringing that line of discussion to a
close.

“I know,” Junhyung said with a sigh. “But there’s something about this job that stopped feeling
right a little while ago.”

“Hmm? You usually don’t go by gut feelings.” If anything, it was Dongjun who liked to be overly
cautious and spend half the mission keeping Junhyung from going in guns blazing. “Must be
serious if you’re worried.”

“I don’t know, man. Something is fishy about this hit. Absolutely no pun intended.”

“Well, we’ve already been paid, so let’s just continue.” Of course, when it came to work, Dongjun
prioritized the credits. Even though Junseong had doubted this job long before they even made the
trip, Dongjun was eager to snap at the chance for cash. Especially after the hardships they’d
suffered the last few cycles because of bad luck and lack of income. “I found an even better spot,
by the way. I’m on a balcony above the second floor ballroom. The east one. If you spot Suhyun,
lure him here.”

Junhyung sputtered. “How the hell do you expect me to do that?”

“With your charm and wit?”

“You tried it.” Junhyung was more comfortable with machines or computers than with people. “I
figured I’d just follow him from a distance.”

“Fuck, mate. We have to kill him tonight. Just engage him in conversation and bring him here. Ask
him about his bank account. Get some business strategies or something. Hell, if all else fails, show
him your gun.”

“Gosh, man. I know I said I’m down for anything but I at least have to go on a date-”

“Your actual gun, you dickhead. Use force. Shoot him yourself if you have to.”

“I see,” Junhyung mumbled.

Dongjun leaned on the balcony railing, his back against the pearlescent crystal. “So after this, I
was wondering if-”

“Oh!” Junhyung exclaimed, and then promptly cut the connection. It had been a sudden syllable, a
whoosh of air like something being thrown.

“Junhyung?” Dongjun asked, but he got no response. “Junhyung, mate, you there? What
happened?” Another few seconds passed and he still heard nothing back. He tapped a button on his
watch to establish the connection again but Junhyung didn’t answer. Worried, Dongjun stretched
out flat on his stomach next to his gun, which was aimed through the balcony railing at the
ballroom below. He adjusted a few levels on the scope, changing a few settings to minimize the
distracting flashing lights. Through the scope, he looked from one side of the ballroom to the other,
but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. If something happened to Junhyung, it hadn’t been nearby.
“Fuck’s sake.” Dongjun spent a minute or two lining up and taking pretend shots on unsuspecting
party-goers. The place was packed and everyone was moving fast and choppy like a sea before a
storm. He wouldn’t be able to make the shot without risking an innocent life. Dammit, Junseong
would have fit this job best. He could get up close and personal, do some quick knife work and be
done. Guns were messy in crowds.

He tried the watch again but Junhyung still didn’t answer. Then he tried Junseong, who also didn’t
answer. “Calm down, Dongjun,” he told himself. “If they were in any immediate danger, there’d be
a distress signal. We rigged it up to our vitals, remember?” This knowledge didn’t make him feel
much better.
With his earlier confidence now officially shaken, Dongjun zoomed the scope’s view out and used
it to search the gigantic ballroom for any sign of Vrakken. Junhyung had been right, at least. There
weren’t that many of them. Only tens in comparison to the dozens of humans and hundreds of
Arari. Vrakken were tree-huggers and peace-lovers so they were always at odds with the violence-
oriented Arari. Vrakken tended to cluster in human sectors working as mediators, court judges, or
social workers. In less centralized human civilizations, they kept Vrakken as pets. Dongjun at least
found Vrakken a little charming with their large ears, big eyes and deceptively strong tails. He
hadn’t met too many of them in his travels, but he’d done his research over the years. Vrakken
usually made their home on arid, desert-like planets in expertly carved underground cities or
natural caves. It was just completely different from the metal and glass cities of human-settled
planets or the wetlands and mud flats of Arari-ruled planets.

Dongjun had gotten lost in thought, not paying half as much attention to his surroundings as he
should. Most of the time, Junseong was the one who hunted down their targets. People were
generally likely to let down their guard around him. Dongjun usually scared people off before he
even said a word. Junseong had said it was because of Dongjun’s severe case of resting bitch face.
Additionally, Junseong was the swiftest on his feet of the three of them and his skill with knives
was unmatched, even against opponents armed with guns. More than all of that, though, Junseong
liked to talk on missions, more than he’d ever talk to them on the ship. Then again, he’d rarely talk
to Dongjun directly. It was more him thinking aloud or even narrating his own actions like he was
reading a book but whatever it was, his sing-song voice over the radio kept Dongjun focused.
Doing a job without him suddenly felt very wrong.

Their group was incomplete now.

“Found him,” Junhyung practically screeched in Dongjun’s ear. His finger was a fragment of
pressure away from pulling the trigger prematurely. He cussed under his breath and told Junhyung
not to yell, but just like earlier, the line stayed quiet. He could only assume Junhyung was with
their target at that very moment.

In fact, he was.

A floor down and on the south side of the building near an extravagant staircase, Junhyung had
quickly approached Suhyun and opened things up with one of his better jokes.

“I don’t get it,” Suhyun quickly said. His voice was raspier and deeper than Junhyung expected
from a Vrakken.

“I haven’t told you the punchline yet,” Junhyung said, feeling deflated.
“Oh? Well, tell me.”

“No. The moment’s gone.”

“Please? It must be a very good joke if you’re trying so hard,” Suhyun blinked up at him, eyes
almost pleading. His hair and the tufts of fur at the base of his ears were a bright straw color,
giving him a delicate quality that made Junhyung’s heart stir without his permission.

“It’s also an old joke because the Titans were still around!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“That… was the punchline.”

“Oh,” Suhyun said quickly, like he’d dropped something.

“...because the joke was about Titans,” Junhyung tried to salvage the moment, a bit too late.
“They’ve been extinct a good century or two.”

An awkward pause. Suhyun’s long nose twitched and his eyes darted to something to the right of
Junhyung’s head. Maybe he was looking for a way to escape the dead conversation? Junhyung
gulped and opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t even know what to say. Honestly, he should
just excuse himself and leave or just pull out his gun and put a round between Suhyun’s eyes right
now. Then, Suhyun turned back to Junhyung with a slight smile and Junhyung immediately forgot
he was supposed to kill the dude. Suhyun was more squirrel-like than fox-like, Junhyung noted.
Was it how round his ears were? Or was it just the way his bushy tail was curling? Wait. Why was
it wrapping around Junhyung’s wrist? The Vrakken used his tail to tug Junhyung closer to his side.

“You’re blocking the hallway,” Suhyun explained himself, probably feeling Junhyung’s tense
muscles, his elevated pulse.

Sure enough, a heavy-set Arari stomped by, her imposing figure made even larger by the towering
fur collar draped around her neck. She stepped by close enough for the fur to brush against
Junhyung’s free hand and it felt exactly like the tail still wrapped around his other wrist. “Is that
Vrakken fur?” Junhyung gasped, not realizing he’d spoken loud enough for her to hear.

She stopped walking and turned towards him and the effect was like seeing the shadow of a shark
beneath the waves. “Human hair,” she said with pride. She must have taken Junhyung’s
exclamation as a compliment. “Made it myself.” Then she turned and kept walking, though now it
was more of a strut.

“I see you’re good at Arari greetings,” Suhyun said.

“Arari gree- That wasn’t a compliment!” Junhyung turned to him, eyes wide. “I was genuinely
terrified for you.”

Suhyun didn’t seem concerned. “Why? It grows back.”

“Wait, they don’t kill you guys for your fur?”

“Only if they plan to stuff us and sit us on a shelf.”

Junhyung paled. His pulse raced.

“That was a joke.”

“A tasteless one.”

“She said it was human hair, though. Shouldn’t you be more worried about yourself?” Suhyun
gave Junhyung’s wrist a tug with his tail and it wasn’t until then that Junhyung realized it was even
still there, that they were still standing so close.

“I… I don’t have a lot of hair for her to take.”

Suhyun laughed at this, a finger touching the tip of his nose like a nervous habit.
Junhyung stared at him for a while. “How come you didn’t laugh when I was actually trying to be
funny?”

“Because you were actually funny when you weren’t trying to be.”

They both smiled at each other, two tiny sparks igniting into roaring flames. Suhyun remembered
his tail and slowly, hesitantly, released Junhyung’s wrist. Junhyung felt his heart sink into his
stomach.

Not, he told himself, out of a pang of attraction but because he suddenly remembered that it was his
job to kill this guy.

Back in the highest room of the summer house, Junseong stood silently as Taeseung completed the
finishing touches on the outfit he was to wear at the gala. It was overly-complicated, overly-
layered and overly-colorful like most Arari clothing, but the textures and the muted gray hues of
the fabrics went together quite seamlessly. It was the longest Junseong had ever looked at himself
in a mirror, watching in awe as the clothing made him look wild and mysterious like a heavy fog at
sea, concealing a dangerous stretch of jagged rocks.

Taeseung did have exceptional taste.

“Why do you squander your time with those humans,” Taeseung asked in Arari. It was the first
thing he’d said since he’d asked Junseong to strip.

“I… They…” Junseong struggled. He so rarely spoke his native language nowadays. So rarely did
he have a reason to. After the death, no, the murder of his father, he’d run away from his family.
Run away from his culture, his past, his home. But unlike human tongues, it wasn’t as easy to
forget Arari. It was like a song he hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the lyrics to. The
language was embedded in his bones and came back to him as easily as breathing through his gills
(something he was having a hard time trying to do in the form-fitting layers.) “They are my friends.
My saviors, really. They took a chance on me when I was at rock-bottom. They gave me something
when I had absolutely nothing. Accepted me when no other crew would have me. Though I didn’t
think it would lead to a life of killing.”

Taeseung obviously wasn’t expecting Junseong’s life story and his seemingly permanent frown
deepened. “Did you hide yourself from them?”
“No. Dongjun figured out I was Arari relatively quickly.”

“Is he a genius by human standards?”

“Umm, no. I don’t think so. In fact, I highly doubt it.”

“Then humans must be quite unintelligent because anyone can see you are Arari.”

This statement was supposed to inspire Junseong, fill him with pride about his heritage, but instead
it made him lift his hands to his ears to hide the chewed-looking tips. “It’s only obvious to other
Arari, I’m sure. I hide my gills and I’ve gotten good at speaking without showing my teeth.”

Taeseung rolled his eyes. “A blind Vrakken can see you are Arari.” To punctuate this, he tied a
decorative belt around Junseong’s waist far tighter than was necessary, making the half-Arari gasp
for breath. “A deaf Vrakken with rhinitis can tell you are Arari.”

“Stop it,” Junseong pleaded, voice barely a whisper. This was why he didn’t want to take on this
job. This was why he’d pleaded with Dongjun not to go so far out of their way to come to this
planet. He knew the Arari wouldn’t understand his plight, how he’d grown up feared and hated by
his human peers, been threatened with fish hooks left on his school desk and worms dumped in his
locker.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” the Prince spoke from behind him.

Junseong jumped and spun around. The Prince looked like a completely different person. Done up
in Arari garbs of vicious thundercloud gray, he looked more like a prince than he ever had before.

“Do not let human conventions weigh down your heart. Here.” Prince raised his hands, pulled
Junseong’s hands down from his ears and held them in his own. “You are Arari.”

Those words seemed to be the only thing Prince could say to him and Junseong couldn’t tell if he
was starting to believe it or if the trembling in his heart was just hatred for those words. He
couldn’t decide and Prince took that moment of hesitation to bring Junseong’s hands to his lips and
place a warm, feather-light and oh-so-fragile kiss on his knuckles. The gesture was so minimal but
it was like Junseong took a bullet through his chest. He was Arari. He could feel that truth in his
hands, warm like the Prince’s mouth.
He almost accepted it. He almost said it aloud.

But Taeseung was right there . And, apparently, he wasn’t too moved by the intimate moment. “I
think you two are beyond fashionably late for the gala, but that’s just my opinion.”

Downstairs, Dongjun still couldn’t get in contact with Junhyung.

His friend had deliberately shut off his watch, it seemed. On one hand, Dongjun knew it was
because Junhyung didn’t want to ruin their plan by revealing their radio connection. On the other
hand, Dongjun was worried as it had already been a lengthy amount of time since Junhyung had
announced he’d found their mark. There was no telling if something had gone wrong. There was
also no telling if Junhyung was leading Suhyun through the ballroom doors right that very second.
Dongjun couldn’t lay still. A restless energy had grabbed hold of his muscles and he’d gotten up
from his post to pace the length of the balcony repeatedly. Junseong, no matter how tight of a
situation he found himself in, would have at least patched through for a moment every now and
then, even if he could do nothing but fill the connection with the sound of his breathing. Perhaps a
little unnecessary, but in the past it had made Dongjun feel better as he lay in position, finger on
the trigger. Anything would have been better than the radio silence and the growing worry that sat
heavier on his mind with each passing minute.

They’d gotten on as well as they had because the three of them had developed a system that
worked for them.

Dongjun watched the action from a vantage point, Junhyung fed them data and information or did
any hacking, Junseong dealt the killing blow. With a cog of the machine missing, everything was
out of whack. They would not do another job without all three of them, Dongjun decided. Even the
prospect of additional credits would not be enough incentive to go through all of this headache
again.

He leaned over the railing, eyes staring into the sea of people below. The ballroom, massive as it
was, had filled even more over the past half hour and, even with his scope, Dongjun knew it would
be hard to track even the largest of Arari across the room. This was why the three of them never
worked in crowds.

Dark alleys? Yes.

Old warehouses? Yes.

Dimly lit side streets? Yes.

A summer home full of filthy rich Arari? No.

An hour ago, Dongjun had felt comforted by the presence of his sniper rifle, but now he felt
burdened by it. They couldn’t do this without Junseong. His knives would have been their best
offense in a situation like this. He could have gone in, sliced the Vrakken’s throat and gotten out of
the ballroom several seconds before someone realized the stumbling guy next to them wasn’t
keeling over drunk but bleeding to his death. The three of them had grown dependent on each
other. Overly so, perhaps, but they were a great team. Dongjun had to remind himself that it wasn’t
like Junseong was gone . He was still in the building. Still a radio call away, if he chose to answer.

He could only hope Junhyung was doing alright.

And yes, Junhyung was perfectly fine physically, but he was losing it mentally.

Having a bit of a spiritual crisis, if you will.

The conversation with Suhyun was going quite well. Too well. So well, in fact, that Junhyung
couldn’t help but wonder if Suhyun had long since figured out why he was here, why they were
talking. But if Suhyun knew, he didn’t seem even the slightest bit afraid. He kept Junhyung at his
side through the entire event. The Vrakken was quite well-known, even among Arari, and he and
Junhyung could barely turn a corner without running into someone who knew Suhyun and just had
to speak to him. Though, as they bounced from stilted conversation to stilted conversation,
Junhyung got the sinking feeling that maybe all of these people were doing their absolute best to
keep the two of them from being alone. Suhyun often tried to include Junhyung in the
conversations, but this was something Junhyung demanded he stopped doing after an over-excited
Vrakken girl bluntly asked if Junhyung was the big announcement Suhyun had for the night, that
the two of them were getting married or something. It was awkward, to say the least, but mainly
because Suhyun went along with it rather than spoil the announcement of his donation.

“It’s really not all that strange,” Suhyun said. His tux was blue-gray, like finely-polished stone.
“That currency still rules the galaxy, I mean. That our entire existence hinges around our economy.
I read somewhere that in the past, an object’s value was weighed by what other objects you could
trade it for. Insane, right?”

Junhyung made a noncommittal noise. Dongjun usually handled their finances so he wasn’t too
well-versed in the matter. “I don’t think we’d ever be able to go back to that kind of system.”

“Why is that?” Suhyun wondered as he casually waved to a Vrakken couple that had called his
name.

“Well, if objects defined a person’s wealth rather than currency, the Arari would be miles ahead of
everyone. They are the ultimate hoarders.”

Suhyun’s already pale face paled even more. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Maybe the humans would be able to bounce back? We’ve gotten the short end of the stick for the
past few centuries but with the Titans gone, our art has made a comeback. If more value was
attached to art, we’d be able to stand on our own two feet again. Not that we don’t appreciate the
Vrakken’s assistance.”

“Possibly,” Suhyun mused, “but to keep the Arari under a glass ceiling I suppose we’d have to
keep credits in place. It’s the only universal language in the whole galaxy. Everyone knows how to
speak money.”

Junhyung just had to know, “Why are you so interested in changing the economy? It would take
centuries for any kind of massive change like that to take hold in courthouses and even longer for it
to be accepted and implemented by the population.”

“It was just a thought. The humans aren’t the only ones fearing galactic war with the Arari.”

Three human women in posh dresses approached them with pageant girl smiles and princess
handshakes. The two of them stopped walking so that Suhyun could greet them and chat amicably,
tail swishing back and forth. Every now and then, it brushed against Junhyung’s thigh and the
bounty hunter didn’t know whether to stand there and accept the rhythmic thumping or step out of
Suhyun’s range.

“We heard you were leaving the planet,” one of the women said.

“There are rumors going around that you’re being chased out,” the second woman commented.
Suhyun smiled. “I assure you, I’m leaving of my own accord. My absence is only temporary. I will
be back before the month is over.”

The two women who had spoken exchanged glances, as if they weren’t sure to believe this or the
rumors. The third woman spoke up. “Can you at least tell us why you’re leaving so abruptly? Is it
for business?” Her eyes darted to Junhyung. “Or pleasure?”

“That matter is a bit personal,” Suhyun said, not batting an eyelash at the intrusion. “But I will be
going alone.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy yourself. You’ve been working hard trying to undo this mess,” the third
woman said. “We must be going. Girls?” The three of them all smiled again, placing their small
hands on Suhyun’s shoulder as they left, high heels clicking on the crystal flooring.

Suhyun’s tail started swishing again and it wasn’t until then that Junhyung realized it had stopped.
“Did they make you nervous,” he asked the Vrakken.

“I just hate that people think I’m being chased out.”

Junhyung wanted to be blunt and state that he probably deserved it. Coming in and buying out all
these companies? Trying to one-up the Arari on their own planet? Instead, he said, “Let’s keep
walking.”

“Right. Right.” Suhyun seemed to shake away whatever was bothering him and they walked side
by side down the corridor. Conversation had come so easy for them before, but now they moved in
silence. Suhyun barely nodded to the people who called his name and he quickly excused himself
whenever someone tried to start a conversation.

“This must be your fiance,” a very old Arari woman said by way of greeting.

Suhyun barely acknowledged her. “Of course,” he nudged Junhyung around her.

“Why do so many people think we’re getting married?” Junhyung asked at last.
“It’s common news that I am making an announcement tonight. I show up at the event with a
stranger at my side and people just assume .”

“Should I go, then?” Junhyung asked. He slowed his pace so that Suhyun was a step or two ahead
of him.

“No. No,” Suhyun turned back to him. “You’re the only person in this entire building that’s not
treating me like a zoo animal that can be poked and prodded with rude questions.” He placed a
hand on Junhyung’s back, his fingers mere inches away from the handle of the gun tucked into the
waistband of his pants.

Junhyung gulped. “Really? Because I feel like I’ve been asking you a lot of questions.”

“Yes, but about the world. About business. About diplomacy. Not what the hell I’m doing on my
vacation. It’s just tiring answering the same questions over and over.”

“I’ve been here for a little bit of it,” Junhyung agreed.

They kept walking but, the whole time, all Junhyung could think about was the heat of Suhyun’s
hand on his back. Surely, the rumors of their ‘marriage’ would spread even faster now if people
caught sight of it, but the last thing Junhyung wanted to do was upset him by bringing him up.
Wait. No. Why did that matter? The only thing that should be on Junhyung’s priority list was
fitting a plasma round through Suhyun’s skull. All he had to do was aim and pull the trigger and he
and his crew would be richer than they’d been all year. Hell, maybe they could take a vacation of
their own. Somewhere warm and sunny. Images of that snow-covered wasteland they’d gotten
trapped in still haunted his dreams. Maybe a planet with nice beaches. Junseong would enjoy that,
right? He’d probably sit roasting beneath the noon sun in his sweatshirt and pants, but he’d be
there.

“Wait, I know him,” Junhyung exclaimed when they rounded a corner. The second floor dining
hall, a trip that should have only taken minutes but had taken them far longer with all of the pit
stops, was at long last before them at the end of the hall. Yet, more exciting than their destination
was the fact that Junhyung had spotted Junseong so done up in Arari clothing that he was nearly
unrecognizable. Standing next to him was their client, the Prince. The sight threw Junhyung for a
loop. He’d never seen Junseong in something so stylish. He’d never seen the half-Arari out in
public with his ears out, his hair impeccably styled. Junhyung realized he was gaping and snapped
his mouth shut. “What’s going on over there?” Junseong and the Prince stood in the center of a
half-circle of onlookers and the Prince had an almost protective grip on Junseong’s waist.
Suspicious. Junhyung narrowed his eyes. Was this part of his separate job? To pretend to be the
Prince’s date or something?
Then, rather ironically, Suhyun chose that exact moment to wrap his tail around Junhyung’s wrist.
“You’re in the way again. What is it with you and standing in the middle of halls?” He pulled
Junhyung aside, his ears flicking in the direction of a small group of humans passing by. With
hallways this large, it shouldn’t have been a problem to move, but with so many objects piled up
everywhere, what should have been a spacious manse felt about as claustrophobic as Junhyung’s
old ship.

Their shoulders were touching, Junhyung noticed. Arms flush. Body heat passing between them.
He took a step away. “You don’t understand. I know him,” Junhyung hadn’t taken his eyes off
Junseong.

“Of course you know him,” Suhyun said, but he thought Junhyung had been talking about the
Prince. “He’s one of the elite generals of this planet’s army. They call him the Prince because he’s
fought in several battles on other planets but doesn’t have a single scar on his face or body.”

“I was wondering about that,” Junhyung said. “Seeing as the Arari don’t have true royalty.”

“Oh, the name was a bit of an insult at first, trust me. The other generals didn’t treat him with any
respect. They thought someone pretty like him wouldn’t know what he was doing with a gun in his
hands. He got a little pissed at them. Killed a few. One thing he collects are the heads of every
Arari general he’s slain to get to where he is today.”

“How macabre.”

“I’ve seen the collection a time or two myself. It’s actually quite artistic.”

“A bunch of severed heads is artistic?”

Suhyun laughed, touching the tip of his nose again. “Yes, it is. He keeps them in climate-controlled
display cases, not these rather dated, mismatched piles.” To prove his point, Suhyun kicked at a
stack of items they passed, but the objects were so closely packed together, so painstakingly
arranged , that not a single thing moved from the impact. It was like the leaning tower of art pieces
was an art piece in and of itself. “This would have all been very stylish like nine weeks ago.”

How in the galaxy had they gotten on the topic of art again? “Do you know the Prince?” Junhyung
tried to get things back on track. “I mean personally? As in, what can you tell me about him?”
Suhyun made a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat that may have been a whine of
confusion or of annoyance. By then, they were passing the Prince and Junseong in the hallway. At
first, Junhyung tried to get Junseong’s attention but then figured it would be better to act as if they
didn’t know each other. Junseong didn’t seem to be looking for him anyway. He was completely
engrossed in the conversations, the Arari language rolling off his tongue like waves. What
Junhyung found even odder than Junseong not even blinking when the Prince laid a kiss on his
cheek was the way Junseong would laugh with his mouth wide open and his head thrown back. It
had to have been the first time in weeks, perhaps months, that Junhyung had even caught sight of
the half-Arari’s teeth. What secret job could he possibly be attending to? What other person in the
crowd was a target to be assassinated? Was it someone gathered in the crowd around them? Was
Junseong waiting for the perfect moment to lash out with a knife?

“Let’s go in. The speeches are starting,” Suhyun snapped Junhyung out of his thoughts with a tug
on his wrist to guide him through the thick crowd. This time, he did it with his hand instead of his
tail and Junhyung was more than a little shocked by how hot Suhyun’s skin was against his own.

He couldn’t let this distract him, though. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you know the
Prince?”

“We’ve had a few… disputes,” Suhyun offered at last. He was scrunching up his nose like he had
tasted something bitter.

Junhyung knew that much about their relationship at least. The Prince probably had countless
confrontations with the Vrakken already about his business dealings. Or at least Junhyung hoped
that the Prince had tried to solve things with words before hiring bounty hunters.

They entered the dining hall, a long and rectangular space with tall walls. The large windows were
dressed with massive, lush curtains in a blood red hue and, through the glass, Junhyung could see
the neon lights of the busy street outside. The presidents and CEOs and war generals and
corporation founders and whoever else the sector deemed a Somebody From Three Planets Over
all sat at candle lit tables, silverware clinking and conversations cordial.

Junhyung, as discreetly as he could, turned on his watch long enough to say, “We’re in the dining
hall,” then shut it off again. Suhyun led Junhyung to a table close to the center of the room and
they exchanged pleasantries with the pair of Vrakken guests already seated.

“Why, you’re Lee Suhyun,” the younger Vrakken said, sounding truly astonished. “I’d recognize
that brilliant white coat anywhere.”
“It’s not exactly white,” Suhyun said casually.

“You rarely see fur that light anymore,” the kid continued as if he hadn’t really heard. “Not since
we shared the frozen tundras with the Titans.”

The other Vrakken gentleman readjusted the glasses on his nose. “Don’t be impolite, Jinwoo.” His
coat was a deep gray, like soot, and threaded through with the white hairs of age. “It’s all genetics.
It’s all fate.”

“Wow,” Junhyung said, without exactly meaning to. “Those are two phrases you usually don’t hear
back to back.”

The soot-gray Vrakken laughed. “Ahh, it’s not as contradictory as you might think. What are
genetics but the biological explanation of probability and what is probability but a ten-credit word
for fate?”

“Guess you’ve got a point there,” Junhyung said.

“Think about it,” the soot-gray Vrakken continued. “Your own existence is nothing but fate. A
long and intricate road of breeding. If anyone in your lineage had slept with someone else, you
wouldn’t be here. In fact, who is to say that if your parents had conceived you so much as a minute
earlier or later that you’d be born who you are. It’s all fate, my friend.”

“I’m assuming you’re a geneticist,” Junhyung asked.

“Best of his kind,” the red-furred Vrakken named Jinwoo piped up. “Spent his early years delving
into the dangers of selective breeding. You know, on some Vrakken planets, the political leaders
match up couples in hopes that the offspring meet certain refined criteria. Like we haven’t learned
how awful that is a dozen times from history already.”

“And it was my research,” the geneticist said, “that debunked their efforts and started a social
overhaul. Even if it meant being banned from two sectors.”

“Man, that’s impressive,” Junhyung said, entirely seriously, propping his chin on his hand. He
found out most of what he knew during bored hours spent online. Most of his conversations were
with search engines and encyclopedias. On the ship, Junseong wasn’t exactly the most talkative
and he and Dongjun were usually on such massively different wavelengths that it was always like
they were having two different conversations at the same time. “What do you do, sir,” he asked the
red-furred Vrakken.

Jinwoo said, “My dad’s the majority stockholder of the largest news network on this planet.” He
turned the question on Junhyung. “What do you do, no-ears?”

The question, moreso than the crude slur, caught Junhyung off-guard and he fished for a word for a
dreadfully long moment before managing to say, “I’m an engineer.”

In the very same dining hall, a few dozen tables away and closer to the stage, Junseong was being
introduced to his own set of interesting tablemates.

There was a gruff-looking, female Arari built like a tank who seemed to be even higher ranked
than the Prince. Or at least that was what Junseong assumed based on how she wore her stark
white military uniform decorated with medals instead of more traditional Arari garb.

“...and crushed his windpipe as he slept,” she was saying, miming the action with her hands as the
Prince and Junseong seated themselves.

It must have been a particular funny anecdote because most of the other military Arari laughed
uproariously. “And then you went straight to bed right after,” someone asked.

She sat back in her chair, a proud smirk on her lips, rose-colored hair falling over an eye. “Slept
like a baby with his body on the pillow next to me.”

“You didn’t even move it?”

“No. Why?”

The crew laughed again, someone feeling the humor so much they pounded their fist on the table,
making the candelabra rock dangerously.
At long last, the others turned to acknowledge the table’s newest guests. “Ahh, it’s our Prince,”
said an Arari who looked around the same age as Junseong, even with a thick line of scar tissue
right across his nose.

“Yes it is,” Prince said flatly.

There was a hushed moment at the table and Junseong got the feeling that they either hated him or
feared him.

The chief was the only one who didn’t seem as bothered. “And who are you?” She turned her pearl
gaze on Junseong.

“This is Junseong,” Prince stated, and he reached a hand out to place it on top of Junseong’s on the
table. “He is to accompany me.”

That word again. Accompany. Marry . The other Arari smiled pleasantly enough but Junseong
wondered if they could smell the diluted Arari blood in his veins and would call him out for being
half-human, a disgrace.

That didn’t happen.

The chief leaned forward in her chair. “You’ve killed before, haven’t you?”

Junseong didn’t know if it was an accusation or an accolade. His eyes went wide, unsure of how to
answer her.

He didn’t need to, as she continued, “I can see it in your eyes, boy. You are comfortable around
death. You wear civilian clothes but you are as familiar with war as my best men. I can see it.”

He kept his mouth shut, eyes darting around the table but everyone’s faces had gone blank as
canvases. They were all staring at him, evaluating him, waiting until they knew how they should
feel about him.

Then, suddenly, the chief let out a belly-rumbling laugh. “I approve, Prince!”
The others joined in her laughter and, as simply as that, Junseong was a part of their inner circle. “I
appreciate your well wishes,” Prince said when the laughter had died down. “I don’t think I’ve
ever been more sure of anything else.”

“Good, because we don’t need you doubting anything when we make our next move.” The chief
lowered her voice, barely audible over the din of music and conversation and clinking silverware
around them. “I trust you’ve taken care of phase one?”

“It’s being taken care of as we speak,” Prince said.

Junseong wanted to know what they were talking about, but before he had a chance to ask, a waiter
came to their table and sat glasses of champagne in front of them. The Arari waited a few moments
until the waiter was out of earshot, but when they spoke again, the subject had changed. “Junseong,
was it?” Said a one-eyed man whose shark teeth were long enough to protrude past his lips.

He nodded.

“You seem like the silent type. But deadly. Is your weapon of choice poison?”

Junseong shook his head. “I prefer knives.”

“Ahh,” the man scratched at his brow above his good eye. “You like to get up close and personal.
The neck or the chest?”

“The neck is more reliable,” Junseong found himself saying. “You have to know the angles to
avoid the ribs if you go for the chest.”

The chief smirked, baring the needlepoints of her teeth. “You don’t have any scars, either.”

“Excuse me?”

She pointed at the Prince. “I’ve seen the way he fights. Dirty. Brutal. Precise. But I get the feeling
that you don’t even give your enemies a chance to fight back.”

Junseong swallowed. “No. Most of them don’t know death is coming.”

Silence. For the longest time, Junseong thought he said something wrong and that he’d caused his
Prince to lose favor with these generals but then the chief laughed that belly laugh and the others
joined in. “I like you,” she said at last.

Then the conversation switched to different topics; from the food (“A cousin of mine is one of the
chefs catering this event. She’s making half a year’s salary in a single night.” “Let her know this
roast is superb. Phenomenal. I can tell by the seasonings she’s from the south.”), to a comrade’s
recent retirement (“He renovated his old house. Sold it for a million. Now he’s hooked and wants
to make flipping houses his career.” “Can he fix up my place?”)

Junseong was enjoying himself. Laughing and asking questions, telling stories whenever he was
prompted. He learned things about the Prince’s colleagues. How the boy with the scar on his nose
was named Woojin and that he had wanted to be an architect before he got roped into the military
or how the one-eyed man had lost his eye not through some heroic battle story but an accident in
the kitchen. (“But don’t tell anyone else this. I’ll never live it down.”) In return, Junseong told the
group things about himself that he was sure Dongjun and Junhyung didn’t even know.

As dinner came to a close, Junseong sat in his chair a little dazed. So much had happened in the
past few hours. Had he found acceptance? Did he no longer have a reason to hide?

He glanced up at Prince, taking in his kind features, trying to commit them to memory as if the
man would vanish into foam at any moment. As if sensing the scrutiny, Prince turned and their
eyes met.

Could he really do this? Could he get married to someone he barely knew?

It seemed so far-fetched, like something out of a fairy tale, but that didn’t stop his pulse from
racing when the Prince smiled at him. Smiled at him. Prince reached for Junseong’s hand and
intertwined their fingers, then turned to pay attention to the conversation once more, voice rising
up to comment on something.

Junseong still felt like he was floating in an illusion, a fantasy. Why was it so easy to imagine that
this could be real? That he would wake up in the future with the Prince at his side? He honestly
didn’t even think such thoughts would appeal to him, that he would like the idea of being
committed to someone… but the Prince’s hand felt so comfortable twined around his own. His
laughter felt at home in Junseong’s ears.

He could get used to this.

At Junhyung’s table, the ‘engineer’ was realizing that he’d gotten sidetracked yet again.

The geneticist was so eloquent that it took no effort to get lost in his words, to sit completely rapt
and in awe listening to him go on about things as mundane as his favorite pharmacy closing down.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Junhyung said to Suhyun. “I haven’t been paying that much attention to you
and I’m your guest.”

Suhyun’s nose crinkled in a smile. “It’s alright. It was nice not being the center of attention for
once.”

Junhyung swallowed hard. It was becoming harder and harder to come to terms with the fact that,
sometime in the next hour or so, he’d have to hold a gun to Suhyun’s head and pull the trigger.
Preferably when he wasn’t looking. The longer he stayed in Suhyun’s company, the less he wanted
to kill the guy. The less he thought that Suhyun was the guy that needed killing.

“If I may interrupt,” said the brat named Jinwoo, “I do believe your vacation couldn’t come at a
better time.”

Suhyun stiffened, the fur on his tail bristling. “I am not running away.”

“I didn’t say you were,” said Jinwoo. “But I know you’re not dumb. You have to be aware that the
Arari are making plans against you. Or at least your property and investments.”

“Wait, what?” Junhyung sat up straight in his chair. His suspicions that Suhyun knew about
tonight’s hit resurfaced.

“Oh, it’s quite tragic,” the geneticist chimed in. “Suhyun here acquired those businesses fair and
square but the Arari are digging through all of their law books to find loopholes to strike Suhyun’s
name off the deeds.”
Or kill him outright, Junhyung added in his head. Aloud, he said, “Why go through all the effort?
Why be so underhanded if he got this far doing things legitimately?”

“Because this goes beyond money issues,” Suhyun replied. “The Arari of this planet don’t want to
see Vrakken succeed so quickly after they’ve been conquered.”

Junhyung blinked, glancing from one Vrakken to another. “Conquered?”

“Why yes,” Jinwoo said. “Not too long ago, in the grand scheme of things. During my great-
grandfather’s time, this planet was Vrakken ruled. The Arari invaded. Our armies were decimated.
Our fortresses stood no chance. The war was over in less than two years. We weren’t completely
wiped out partially due to the assistance of the humans. But the Arari collected our cities like they
collect everything else.”

The old geneticist cleared his throat. “Most Vrakken who hadn’t already escaped the planet during
the war were stripped of any property, any credits. The Arari are quick to say that these past events
are distant and irrelevant but, even generations later, we still feel the ripples of that devastating
defeat today. We still struggle to keep a hold on any social standing on this planet. That’s why so
many of us have left.”

“But I’m changing things,” Suhyun said passionately. “Or at least I want to. I’m reimagining the
way things work in this city. Buying crucial businesses and giving Vrakkens a safe place of
employment is only the beginning. Word is spreading. Vrakken from other planets seek asylum
here. They come here to find homes and jobs since war has ripped apart other planets.”

“And the Arari don’t like it one bit,” the geneticist said before taking a swig of champagne.

“That’s why you wanted to change how currency worked,” Junhyung said, more to himself than to
Suhyun.

“Yes,” Suhyun answered. “But I’ve already crossed out that idea. Thanks to you.”

Up on the stage at the front of the room, the first of many speakers had taken to the podium. A tall
Arari woman in a dress that seemed to sparkle in every shade of red. Junhyung tried to listen to her,
but they were seated quite some distance from the speakers and all he could really be sure of was
the concerned and emphatic tone of her voice, not the words themselves. Besides, even if he could
understand what she said, Junhyung wouldn’t have managed to listen with his thoughts as tied up
in knots as they were.

More and more things about tonight were starting to click into place in his head.

He thought back to previous conversations. Junseong on the ship when they’d first arrived on this
planet. (“Arari aren’t the only species that live here, but they do rule it now.”) Taeseung in the
room at the top of the building. (“We rule this planet now.”)

Now. That was the operative word here. Now .

The Arari weren’t natives to this planet. That would explain why the architecture here didn’t fit
them at all. Even the geography was massively different from the other planets that Arari generally
called their own. It was all so alien. Junhyung hadn’t really believed it before, but now he had
proof. The Arari really were spreading from sector to sector, planet to planet. Maybe not his own
children, but his children’s children or their children would know a time of galactic war. There was
no way the Arari would be satisfied. Their collection would never be complete.

“I’m sorry,” Junhyung said. He must have been wearing his horror on his face because the three
Vrakken seated at the table were watching him with curious, worried black eyes. “This is all a bit
much to take in.”

Jinwoo nodded sympathetically. “We understand. You’re obviously not from around here, so
intimate details of this planet’s history wouldn’t be common knowledge to you. And you know
what they say, news travels fast… it just doesn’t necessarily get very far.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Suhyun said, leaning over the table. He reached a hand out, as if to
place it reassuringly on Junhyung’s thigh, but he second guessed the action and his hand hovered
awkwardly in the air between them. “I assumed you knew. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Junhyung squeaked out. “Peachy.” He rubbed a hand over his face and then downed a
gulp of champagne. As a bounty hunter, he should be loyal to the money, not his morals, but this
job hadn’t been sitting right with him since the beginning and now he knew why . Had the Prince
been blatantly lying? Well, no, not really. Suhyun was buying up companies, just not for the reason
the bounty hunters had been led to believe. Junhyung refused to think about the possibility of all of
their other clients lying to them or twisting the truth over the years. He was having a big enough
existential crisis as it was. “So the Arari want you gone because...” He tried to remember how
Taeseung had worded it during the briefing. “...because you make them look tame?
Domesticated?”
“That’s one way to put it,” Suhyun said.

The geneticist spoke up. “I suppose the Arari can’t really deny their base instincts but it’s not too
different from our own latent desires. We want. We lust. We covet. We feel envious when others
possess what we do not. We feel threatened when others want what we have. Though with the
Arari, it’s just taken a bit to the extreme and probably lies outside of their conscious control.”

“So basically,” Junhyung said, trying to summarize, “the Arari saw this planet and wanted it. So
they took it. And now Suhyun’s trying to take it back... So they-” Want him dead, he finished in
his head.

The Vrakken sat quietly, stewing in the openness of Junhyung’s unfinished sentence, coming to
their own conclusions. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Suhyun said, voice gravelly. “I’m
trying to win back what we lost without stooping to violent means.”

No one said anything. Probably because no one knew what to say.

“You see, if I can make the planet safe for Vrakken again, if I can convince more and more of us to
come back, then we can slowly reclaim businesses and government departments and positions at
the courthouses. We won’t sink so low as to declare war, but we will get back what’s rightfully
ours through diplomacy.” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Junhyung, glaring
with single-minded determination into the contents of his still-full champagne glass.

“Politics,” Junhyung couldn’t think of anything else to say.

There was someone else coming out on stage now, a muscular Arari with a booming voice that
filled the whole ballroom. It was all white noise in Junhyung’s ears. Just a loud, monotone
humming at the edge of his senses. The doubt in him was blossoming into despair.

Suhyun couldn’t really be a man who deserved death. He was simply trying to reclaim his kind’s
honor.

Junhyung certainly could no longer put a bullet through his head. Not without losing sleep over it.
Ugh, this was why Junhyung preferred being behind the wheel of a vehicle or at the keyboard of a
computer. There were fewer lies, fewer gimmicks and tricks. You type in a code and get exactly
what you want back. You tighten a bolt, maybe give it a good whack, and the rattling noise
stopped. No wonder Junseong was the one who usually did the killing. He probably had a small
enough heart to do it without question. Without guilt. He probably didn’t give himself time to think
and doubt and worry before he slit a throat.

“What’s wrong?” Suhyun asked, snapping Junhyung out of his thoughts.

“I need to find a bathroom,” Junhyung said quickly, already beginning to stand. What he meant to
say was that he needed to call Dongjun.

After sitting through another speech or two, Prince stood up, laid a hand on Junseong’s shoulder
and said “Let’s go.”

“We’re leaving already?” Junseong had been enjoying getting to know the other Arari as the night
progressed.

“We have no reason to be here now,” Prince said. Then he leaned closer so that his next words
wouldn’t be so easily overheard. “I want to tell you something.”

So they said their goodbyes and left the dining hall, sticking to the shadowy fringes as the next
speaker got up on stage.

Outside in the hallway, Junseong asked, “What did you want to say?”

Prince reached for his hand and held it. Warm and gentle. He leaned forward as if to kiss him, but
paused when their lips were a breath apart. Junseong’s eyelids fluttered closed, every inch of his
body drifting on the scent of sea salt. “Wait, not here,” Prince exhaled. “Follow me.” An idea lit up
behind his eyes and he tugged Junseong down the hall.

“Where are we going,” Junseong asked as they sprinted down hall after hall.

“You’ll see,” Prince said breathlessly as he led the way down the stairs.

They passed through countless rooms, running by numerous people still loitering in the halls,
chatting and laughing. Down one corridor and then another, around a corner and then down
another flight of stairs. They were in the basement level of the house now. It was cooler here, the
air thick and sweet with moisture.

Junseong caught a whiff of salt water, then the Prince was pushing open a narrow wooden door. It
was a pool, set into the polished, gold-painted floor. The water was blue-green like precious
jewels, shimmering with the rosy light that filtered in through the crystal ceiling high above. “It’s
wonderful,” Junseong said, drinking in the sight. It was so quiet here, as if they had stolen away
into some secret world, some hidden slice of time.

Prince moved up close to him again, breathing heavily from their run. He reached a hand up to run
it through Junseong’s hair. “Let’s get accompanied first thing in the morning. As the sun rises.”

Junseong’s heart was pounding in his chest, but whether it was from the proposal or their run, he
couldn’t tell. “That’s so soon.” Dawn could only be a handful of hours away now.

“Really?” Prince leaned forward to press their foreheads together, his dark hair tickling Junseong’s
skin. “Because I don’t think it’s soon enough.” They kissed, quick and sharp. Tongues dancing
over jagged teeth.

When they pulled apart, Junseong’s heart was still pounding and his skin felt hot and electrified.
“Yes,” he said at last. “Yes.”

A few floors upstairs, Dongjun had long since given up on finding a vantage point that would give
him a clear shot into the dining hall.

The closest he’d managed was a flimsy maintenance walkway in the corridor that led to the dining
hall, but it was clearly meant for people much lighter than he was, people with hollow bones and
superb balance like Vrakken. He’d spent about fifteen full seconds on it before deciding it wasn’t
worth an injury. So he climbed down the shaky ladder and wandered through the labyrinthine halls
of the summer home before coming into a smallish room with tables set off to one side stacked
with hors d'oeuvres. Most of the trays of food were empty but Dongjun picked over what little
remained and made himself a plate.

Out of nowhere, Junhyung’s voice came over the connection. “We can’t do this!”

“ Balls , mate,” Dongjun nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he had to pound on his chest to cough
up a partially-chewed cracker. “God!”
“We’ve got the wrong mark,” Junhyung kept on.

Dongjun adjusted the volume on his watch so that Junhyung’s loud voice wasn’t as loud. “What
the bloody hell are you on about?”

“We’ve been lied to. Suhyun’s not the villain here. It’s the Prince.”

“What have I always told you,” Dongjun chastised. “There’s no such thing as good and evil. There
are no heroes or villains. Not for us. Just who can pay us and who can’t.”

“You don’t understand ,” Junhyung wailed. “This planet used to belong to the Vrakken. The Arari
invaded, took over, chased them out. Suhyun’s only trying to reclaim this place for the Vrakken.”

Dongjun rolled his eyes. “Who cares about the sob stories? We need the other half of those
credits.”

“Can you stop with the money?” Junhyung sounded truly exasperated. “I can’t do this. I can’t kill
the guy.”

“You asked questions, didn’t you?” Dongjun scolded. “You’re not supposed to get tangled up in
history and personal feelings, Junhyung. You know that can royally screw your head up. That’s not
how this game works. Just go in, do the job, get out. Like Junseong-”

“I’m not Junseong.”

“Well, maybe you should be a little more like him. He wouldn’t have made the mistake of letting
our mark fill his head with rubbish.”

“You were the one who said to engage him in conversation!”

“Small talk!” Dongjun fired back. He realized he’d shouted and bit down on his bottom lip hard.
“We’ve got a good thing going here, Junhyung. Don’t mess it up.”
“Listen to yourself,” Junhyung whined. “This goes beyond a case full of credits. Killing Suhyun
means helping the Arari chase even more people out of their homes. They aren’t going to stop
here. There are other planets, other sectors-”

“All’s fair in love and war, mate. If the Arari won the battle, they earned it.”

“Shut up!” Junhyung’s scream was like a blow to the head. Dongjun flinched. Seconds passed.
When Junhyung spoke again, he had lowered the volume of his voice considerably but the anger
was still there, waiting to pounce. “We are not killing Suhyun, Dongjun. If we kill him, you better
find another ship off this planet because I will leave you.”

Dongjun laughed, more out of surprise than humor. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I’m serious, Dongjun. If you don’t listen to me right now, I quit.”

Another silence. A longer one. Dongjun held his breath, hoping beyond hope that he was dreaming
this whole argument up or that he’d at least heard wrong. “You’re going to give up everything
we’ve gone through just like that, Junhyung?”

“I would,” Junhyung said quietly but without hesitation.

“Then we don’t kill Suhyun,” Dongjun promised. He could practically feel the relief from
Junhyung’s end of the line. Dongjun relaxed himself, not even realizing until then how stiff and
tense he’d been standing.

“We kill the Prince instead,” Junhyung said, almost like an afterthought. “If we leave him alive,
he’ll just hire someone else to kill Suhyun.”

“The Prince?” Dongjun repeated. Their client? “I… I just… Fuck , mate, I just saw him.”

“You what?” Even with the volume lowered, Junhyung’s voice was still insanely loud.
“He was in this room like ten minutes ago. Junseong was with him.”

“I tried calling Junseong earlier but he didn’t answer. I have to get back to the dining hall with
Suhyun so you’ll have to be the one to shoot the bastard.”

“If I can find him again.” Dongjun sat his half-finished plate of hors d'oeuvres down on a table.

“Thanks for this,” Junhyung said, voice so low that Dongjun had to turn the volume up again. “I
owe you, man.”

On the inside, Dongjun was mourning the loss of the other half of their promised credits, but he
knew better than to say something about it and piss off his only ride and maybe even his only
friend. “Anything, mate.”

Poolside, the Prince discarded his clothing layer by layer, piece by piece, until he was only in his
undergarments. Junseong watched him from the corner of his eye, embarrassment tinting his
cheeks. Prince’s scales caught the light reflected in the water and the effect was rather
breathtaking. He was so soft but he was so magnificent. Prince was such a fitting nickname.

The Arari turned to look at him and Junseong lowered his gaze to avoid making eye contact.

Then Prince dove into the water with an echoing splash. Slowly, Junseong approached the pool’s
edge, barely able to make out Prince’s graceful shadow in the low light. After what felt like too
long, the Arari surfaced a short distance away. He reached up a hand to Junseong. “Swim with
me.”

Junseong shook his head vigorously. The deepest water he’d been in over the past few months was
the bathtub on Junhyung’s ship and that was scary enough at times.

Prince asked seriously, “Are you afraid of me?”

Junseong shook his head again.

“Then it’s the water you fear.” When Junseong didn’t respond, Prince swam closer to the pool’s
edge. “Swim with me. Just for a little while,” he sang out. “I’m here. You don’t have to be
afraid.”

The offer was quite tempting so it didn’t take him long to give in. Junseong began peeling off the
layers of his Arari clothing, dropping the gray cloth to the floor around his ankles, biting the inside
of his cheek and trying hard not to be ashamed of his near-nakedness. Less than gracefully, he
clambered into the warm water and swam towards the Prince’s still-outstretched hand.

“There,” Prince said, interlocking their fingers and pulling Junseong close.

Fear and excitement and giddy joy all shook between Junseong’s ribs. The water was salted, like
the sea, and he only had to begin to draw it in through his gills before he was reminded of home.
Of lazy days spent beneath the twin suns, sand sticking to the web between his toes. Watching the
silhouettes of human ships cross the hazy part of the horizon where the blue of the sky met the
blue of the water. Junseong blinked and was back in the pool, the Prince’s face in front of his own.

“See? It’s not so bad,” Prince said.

And it wasn’t. Junseong had grown so used to the taste of tap water in his gills. He’d only been in
the pool a minute and now he couldn’t imagine going back to that small, too-shallow tub. “I’ve
been running away from it for so long,” he said, “but it feels great to just… sit still .”

Prince gave him a smile and then dipped his head below the surface. He pulled on Junseong’s hand
and the half-Arari followed him under.

It was dark down there.

Darker than Junseong first assumed, but when his eyes adjusted, he could see to the bottom of the
deep, deep pool. White sand covered the bottom in thick, rolling dunes. Plants swayed to and fro
next to artificial coral reefs. It was so much like a real ocean that Junseong thought his heart would
stop. “This place is wonderful,” he said, and then clamped his hand over his mouth. Hearing his
own voice come back to his ears like that felt unnatural.

Prince grabbed hold of Junseong’s hand and pulled it away from his mouth. “Why do you fear
yourself so much,” Prince asked him. The language of the Arari always sounded best beneath the
water. If it had been a song before, now it was an orchestra, textured and rich and real.
“Because the world I grew up in feared me,” Junseong replied. “Because being what I am ended
my father’s life.”

“But is it really your fault? Or are you only trying to make all of that your fault?”

The truth of it struck hard, but Junseong shook his head in denial. “I watched him die right in front
of me and I didn’t even feel bad about it!” He was talking about his father. “Staying away from the
part of me that killed him is the least I can do for him and his memory.” They reached the bottom
of the pool and Prince gently pulled Junseong down with him so they could lay their backs on the
sand. For a while, they laid there, legs tangled and hair haloing around their heads with the faint
current. Junseong continued, “It would be safer… easier for me if I just hid. I’m tired of people
being afraid of me.”

“Is what humans think really so important that you’d rather suffer every day?”

“I-”

Prince hushed him with a low sound, his hand darting out to trace a pattern over the scales on
Junseong’s arm. “You are beautiful. If lowly humans fear you, let them. Arari do not-”

“But I’m not beautiful ,” Junseong cried out. “Look at me! I’m a monster. I’m deformed. Two
halves that don’t add up to anything.” There was just the quiet of the cerulean water around them
now, like they were the only two beings in the entire world. Seconds passed, building up in the
space around Junseong’s heart as he waited and waited. But for what, he didn’t know. “Just admit
it,” the half-Arari eventually spat out. “You only want to accompany me out of pity.”

This made the Prince sit up. He propped himself up on his elbow and stared straight into
Junseong’s eyes. “Don’t think that of me. I am not so heartless.”

“Then why?” Junseong pleaded. “Why me?”

“Because the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I could love you. Not as something to be protected
but as someone to honor. I felt it.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I saw the quiet strength in you.
Saw how mighty you were despite everything. He can stand beside me, I thought. And spending
time with you tonight only confirmed how sure I am.”
“Is that it?” Junseong was skeptical. “Is that really all it took?”

“Yes,” Prince said simply. “Don’t you feel it, too?”

And he leaned down to kiss Junseong, every movement confident and sure. Just like during their
first private conversation what felt like a lifetime ago, he reached a hand up to Junseong’s ear and
brushed his fingers along the twisted frills. It was the simplest of actions, the most trivial of things,
but Junseong couldn’t stop the surge of emotion that tore through him. He felt like a ship at sea,
trapped in a storm, moments from capsizing. Everything in him seemed to turn on its side and,
before he knew it, he was crying. Why? Because he did feel it, too. Prince reminded him of home,
of lazy afternoons and content, satisfied evenings. Prince made him happy and it was so easy to
believe that he could love him.

Prince didn’t stop kissing him until long after Junseong’s tears had stopped.

“Wait,” Prince said after a long time. It felt like it had been days but it could have only been
moments. “You hear that?” He cocked his head to the side.

Junseong blinked. “Huh?”

Prince paused, waiting for the sound again. He heard it, distant and shrill. “My watch is going off,”
he said and shifted so suddenly that Junseong rolled weightless in the water. Prince said, “I’m
expecting a call from the chief. That could be her.” And he took off towards the surface, legs
beating the water with expert kicks.

Junseong pulled himself together and followed the man to the surface of the pool, though a bit
slower with far more unpracticed strokes. By the time his head breached the surface and he gulped
down his first swallow of air, Prince had already gotten to his watch and was in the middle of a
hushed conversation.

“...the start of phase two,” he was saying, the watch held close to his face.

Junseong couldn’t quite hear who was on the other line.

“Are you sure?” Prince asked. A pause. “Who did you get that information from?” Another pause.
“By the end of the month?”
Junseong swam to the edge of the pool towards him. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on,
but Prince sounded unnerved. Surprised, even. An emotion that sounded foreign and strange in his
usually level voice.

“Yes, sir,” Prince said, and then ended the connection. He strapped on his watch and hastily began
pulling on a few layers of his clothing, even though he was still dripping wet.

“What’s going on?” Junseong asked.

“A small matter that I must attend to,” Prince said, his voice muffled as he pulled fabric down over
his head. “An on-going project I’ve been working on with the chief. She felt it best to move up the
deadline by a couple of weeks.”

“That’s not bad, is it?”

“No.” Prince tugged on the last of his clothing then twisted a few things this way and that so that
he at least looked presentable. “I can most certainly manage it.” Junseong must have had a strange
expression on his face because when Prince looked his way, his face softened. “Don’t worry.” He
approached the edge of the pool and knelt down. “This won’t take away my time with you. We will
be accompanied at dawn. I promise you.” He cupped his hand beneath Junseong’s chin and drew
him up into a kiss. Time seemed to slow. Nothing in the world mattered but the friction of their
lips. When he pulled away, Prince smiled. “Go up to the room where we met,” he said. “I will
come to you there. Fifteen minutes at the most.” And then he was rising to his feet and rushing to
the door.

Upstairs in the ballroom, the last speaker had finished.

Applause filled the dining hall to deafening levels and Suhyun, tired-looking as he was, suggested
that the four of them remain seated instead of getting swept up in the mass exodus, the large crowd
making for the exit.

The old geneticist scratched at the graying tip of his ear. “I do find it fascinating how younger and
younger people are getting involved in world matters such as these. How old are you?”

“Me?” Junhyung pointed to himself. “21.”

“Exactly. You’re both young,” the geneticist continued, “yet you’re spending a weekend night at
an event like this rather than at some club.”

First of all, it was a weeknight. “Well, I don’t really think-”

The geneticist didn’t let him finish. “When will more young people learn that they do not have to
be my age to exact change upon the world?” He cleared his throat. “I was in graduate school when
I had my first big idea. Of course, many of my classmates had similar ideas and similar passions,
but we turned on each other instead of working together. School was a competition in which we
were all trying to come in first. And for good reason. Many of us were refugees on a new planet.
Education was the only way to get ahead yet so many of us couldn’t afford it, didn’t have the time
or the money or the support…”

Suhyun and Junhyung exchanged glances. They thought they were being subtle about it, but
Jinwoo caught it. “Come on, Uncle,” he said to the geneticist, who stuttered to a halt in his
storytelling. “Let’s get going. Suhyun? Junhyung, was it? It was nice dining with you.”

“Same here,” Suhyun gave a slight wave as the two other Vrakken got to their feet and joined the
last few stragglers heading out the dining hall door. After a moment, Suhyun turned to Junhyung.
“I want to apologize for getting you all wrapped up in my personal business tonight.”

“No problem, man,” Junhyung stated. “I feel like I’m to blame, too, for drilling you with so many
questions, especially after watching so many other strangers do the exact same thing.”

Suhyun let out a tired sigh. “It’s fine. You were different. You seemed genuinely interested.”

The both of them chose the exact same moment to stand and there was a tiny nutshell of a moment
where their shoulders brushed. “I just wanted to know more about you,” Junhyung said, and it
wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that he realized how easily misinterpreted they could
be.

“Would you…” Suhyun began, his tail curling around his own thigh as he hesitated. “My hotel’s
not far from here.”

Junhyung’s heart skipped a beat. Panic? Curiosity? The moment came and went. “I can’t,
actually,” he said. “I came here with friends and they are my only ride off the planet tonight.”
“I see,” Suhyun let the words fall off his tongue, his ears drooping ever so slightly.

“But at least let me walk you to the door?” Junhyung said, a bit too quickly.

“That’s quite alright.”

“No, I insist,” Junhyung gave his best smile, which Suhyun managed to resist for a full three
seconds before smiling himself. So they began walking. Janitors and waiters were as busy as bees
in the dining hall around them, cleaning up the mess left behind by the hundreds of guests.
Everyone seemed to have left in quite a hurry, Junhyung noted, as the hallways that were so
cramped and crowded before were now nearly deserted and quiet enough for him to notice the faint
bell-like tone the crystal floor produced with each step they took. “You’re a brave man,” Junhyung
said after a while.

“Hmm? For what?”

“For fighting a fight that you don’t need to,” Junhyung clarified. “That war was decades ago and
you’re fighting back all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m alone,” Suhyun said. “More and more Vrakken fight at my side every day. Not
with guns and swords but with intellect and business savvy. I might not live to see it, but one day,
this planet will change.”

They rounded a corner just as the Prince was coming out through a doorway. “It’s the Prince,”
Junhyung barely managed to get a communication line open before he said it.

Dongjun’s voice was a too-loud hiss. “I’ve got your GPS signal pinned. Stall him.”

Fortunately, Suhyun didn’t seem to have heard the exchange, because he’d gone statue-still mid-
step and was staring up at the Prince as he approached.

“Suhyun,” the Prince said, not quite concealing his frown.

“Prince,” Suhyun choked out. His fur stood on end, his eyes wide, fright winning out over flight.

Junhyung reached out his hand and grabbed hold of Suhyun’s but it was like slipping his fingers
into a tightening vice.

“It seems like the crowd greatly appreciated your massive charity donation,” the Prince said.

“I didn’t do it for the crowd’s appreciation,” Suhyun squeaked. “I’m trying to-”

“Well what do you call it?” The Prince asked loudly, eyebrows raised. “Certainly, it was a move to
get more and more people on your side. Why announce it at such a large event if not to get public
approval?”

“Hey now,” Junhyung spoke up. “He’s just trying to do the right thing, man. Trying to end
Vrakken poverty on this planet.”

The Prince turned his gleaming eyes to Junhyung and, comically late, he finally seemed to
recognize the man. “Apparently, not everyone can do the job they are assigned.” His gaze trailed
down to where Junhyung and Suhyun were clutching hands. “Things are the way they are for a
reason.”

“That’s not true,” Suhyun’s voice had lowered, like he was struggling to keep his emotions in
check. “The people who benefit from an oppressive system can’t even begin to fathom the
hardships of those the system oppresses. Just get a job, you say. Just obey the laws, you say. But
you don’t live in a world where the job market is against you or where the law doesn’t protect
you.” Suhyun’s body tensed and he moved to take a confrontational step forward but Junhyung
quickly pulled him back. “You will never understand because nothing’s been taken from you!” His
shrill voice echoed around the expansive hall.

“He’s obviously upsetting you. Let’s just go,” Junhyung suggested.

“I’m upsetting him?” The Prince scoffed. “I was trying to be cordial.”

“Don’t you patronize me,” Suhyun growled. “Don’t stand there and act like you and your army
buddies weren’t behind that scam health inspector who got the pharmacy shut down.”
“Oh really?” The Prince’s voice was cool and collected, not a hint of shock.

Suhyun made to step to the man again. Junhyung had to use all of his strength to hold him back.
“Stop it, Suhyun. Don’t do this. It’s exactly what he wants!”

Suhyun turned to him suddenly. “Are you saying I can’t get mad? Are you saying I have no right to
be pissed off?”

“I’m saying that this is not the way to go about this. Intellect and business savvy, remember?”

Suhyun held on to his rage for several long seconds before he practically deflated, ears and tail
drooping, fur settling down against his skin. The effect was so profound it was as if he shrank in
size. The Prince let out a musical sounding hum. “Well, you two, this has been fun and all, but I’m
in the middle of something and need to get going. Enjoy your vacation, Suhyun,” and he turned on
his heel to leave.

Junhyung saw it out of the corner of his eye. At the far end of the hall, there’d been a white-hot
flash, brilliant as a star.

A muzzle flash.

Dongjun’s sniper rifle.

Junhyung had seen that same flash so many times over the last few cycles that he could probably
paint it from memory.

The Prince seemed to startle and Junhyung heard him gasp. Choke.

There was a moment of held breath when Junhyung wasn’t even sure what had happened, then The
Prince fell towards them.

Junhyung pulled Suhyun back as the body fell quite literally at their feet.
In the center of the Prince’s forehead was a blossoming red red red hole.

Suhyun caught sight of the blood pooling in front of their shoes and he let out a gut-wrenching wail
before shoving his head against Junhyung’s chest.

Junhyung held him steady, a hand pressed to the back of his head.

Some of the Prince’s blood was splattered across the top of Suhyun’s straw-colored hair, that’s
how close they’d been standing. That’s how risky of a shot Dongjun had made.

“It’s going to be alright,” Junhyung whispered into Suhyun’s fox ear, but even as he said it, he
wasn’t sure if it would be true.

Upstairs, far more than fifteen minutes of waiting had passed.

Junseong sat on the edge of the large bed, unable to help the doubt paying his heart a visit.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Taeseung said. There was a mild, relaxed accent to his Arari when he
wasn’t putting on airs. He sounded like he was from a distant, northern sea. “I know how these
meetings go. The chief probably just ordered the most expensive dish on the menu and they are
having a good laugh.”

Junseong only vaguely heard him, like Taeseung was standing on the other side of the room rather
than right next to him, helping him out of the last of his Arari garb.

Taeseung said, “I’m terrible at this whole reassuring thing. Here.” He handed Junseong the
sweatshirt he had been wearing at the start of the night.

It looked absolutely shitty in comparison to the luxury he’d worn all evening.

Still, Junseong took it from his hands and yanked it on over his head. Compared to the soft Arari
fabric, it was rough against his arms and itchy and there was a damp, greasy stench that clung to it
that he’d never noticed before. He almost wanted to take it back off again.

Taeseung went on, “He’ll be back by the morning. Why not catch a few hours of sleep?”

Sleep did sound like a great idea. A lot had happened today and maybe it would all be easier to
take in after Junseong dreamed. His growing excitement chased his doubt away. He was going to
get married tomorrow. How would it feel to wake up with Prince next to him? Would his kisses
taste even better when they were accompanied? Junseong felt his cheeks go hot and he held a hand
to his face to cover them, but Taeseung was already heading towards the stairs.

Sleep came quickly and heavily, almost as soon as he’d crawled beneath the sheets and placed his
head on the pillow.

He dreamed of his father again, struggling to keep his head above water, arms flailing. Except this
time, Junseong wasn’t watching him drown, he was reaching out a hand. His father grabbed hold of
it and shook him. Hard.

Junseong startled awake.

Late morning sunlight seeped into the room through the clear crystal walls, painting everything a
warm peach color.

Taeseung was leaning over the side of the bed, hand on his arm, shaking him.

Junseong sat up, feeling groggy. It felt like he’d only been asleep mere moments. “I’m up, I’m up.”

Taeseung stepped back. “Your friends called looking for you.”

Junseong wiped the sleep from his eyes then turned away to look at the other side of the bed. It
was empty. Still freshly made. Junseong reached out a hand but the sheets on that side were still
cool. Prince still hadn’t come back.

“Did you hear me? I said your friends called. The loud one said they charge for parking by the
hour.”
“Give me a second,” Junseong huffed. It was taking him a moment to fit everything together nicely
in his head.

“Seeing as we only rented the room for the night, we don’t have a lot of time,” Taeseung said.
“Security will be through any moment now.”

“You mean Kangsung and them?”

“No. They went home soon as their contract ended.”

Junseong crawled to the edge of the bed and stood up on stiff legs. He’d slept in the outfit he wore
yesterday, as Taeseung hadn’t provided him with anything else to sleep in. “Rented? This isn’t
Prince’s house?”

“Of course not.”

Junseong ran a hand through his hair. It still smelled like the pool from last night. The thought
occurred to him that it was far past dawn and he and Prince still weren’t accompanied. “He didn’t
come back.”

Taeseung’s face hardened with the closest thing to sympathy he could manage. “He won’t be
coming back, unfortunately.” He stepped away and it wasn’t until then that Junseong realized that
the man’s outfit was different. Nowhere near as extravagant as traditional Arari clothing, what he
wore seemed dangerously close to something Dongjun would sport. It made Taeseung look
completely different, but not any kinder.

“Does him not coming back have anything to do with me?”

“Hmm,” Taeseung considered it for an unnecessarily long moment. “No.”

“Well then, did he say why he wasn’t coming back?”

“Not to me directly, no.”

The half-Arari frowned. “Just tell me one thing, then,” he mumbled. “Is he playing me for a fool?
Making me feel wanted and special for one night only to leave me behind for someone else?”

“He wasn’t that kind of man,” Taeseung said.

Junseong must not have heard him, he was so focused on doing up his shoelaces. “Does he do this
all the time? Make promises and break them? Lure people in with sweet talk and kisses?”

“No.”

“No?” Junseong was surprised. “He knew me for minutes and then asked me to accompany him.”

“I was there, in case you forgot,” Taeseung said.

“Does he do that to every poor little Arari that comes his way?”

“No,” Taeseung said again. Junseong didn’t believe it and the expression on his face said so.
Taeseung folded his arms across his chest. “I was the general’s personal attendant for months.
Years. You are the only person he’d ever asked to accompany him.”

“So he means it?” Junseong said, wiping at his eyes. Why in the galaxy was he crying? Maybe
because he was a blubbering idiot for believing in fairy tales and happily ever afters. Perhaps he
deserved the ache in his heart. “He means it?”

“He meant it, yes,” Taeseung said, then gasped like he remembered something. He stooped to the
floor near the bed and when he stood up, he had a case that was identical to the one from last night.
He rolled through the combination lock but didn’t open the case. “The remaining credits,” he
clarified, not even giving Junseong a chance to wipe his eyes before shoving the case into his
hands.

“Oh, so the other two finished the job?” Junseong groaned beneath the unexpected weight of the
case.
“You could say,” Taeseung said. “But it doesn’t really concern me anymore. Now that this is all
squared away, can you speed things up here? I’ve got a shuttle to catch and a job fair to get to.”

Dongjun had been dozing off in the pilot’s seat when there was a heavy knock at the ship’s door.

He shook himself awake and checked the camera feeds. It was Junseong. “Mate, where the hell
have you been,” Dongjun asked through the intercom as he flipped the switch to unlock the outer
door. “I tried calling you but you didn’t answer for half the morning.”

Junseong came up the last step. “Taeseung must have taken off my watch when he got me ready
for the gala. I didn’t even think about it.”

Dongjun frowned then he fiddled with the ragged strap of his watch until he got it loose enough to
take off.. “We better get new watches, then. Don’t want any randoms patching into our feeds,
yeah?”

“Whatever,” Junseong said.

There were footsteps coming down the hall and then the door to the bridge swung open with a
bang. “They charge for parking by the hour , man,” Junhyung screeched, eyes wide. “I’m gonna
have to saw off my arm to pay for an overnight stay.”

“It won’t be that much,” Dongjun commented at the same time that Junseong huffed a second
“Whatever” and shoved the money case into Junhyung’s hands. Junhyung hadn’t been expecting
the weight and nearly dropped the thing before he got an arm under it.

“Wait, that’s the rest of the cash,” Dongjun pointed out. “I didn’t think we’d get the rest.”

“You did the job, didn’t you?” Junseong snapped and shoved Junhyung out of the way to move
further back into the ship.

Junhyung and Dongjun exchanged looks. “What’s with him?” Dongjun asked.
“Isn’t he always like that?” Junhyung questioned, but he had a feeling the attitude had something to
do with last night. He knew something was up the moment he saw Junseong and the Prince
together. He just didn’t think it had been serious. For some odd reason, Suhyun broke into his
thoughts and he wondered if the Vrakken had left the planet for his vacation yet. He hadn’t even
thought of getting a contact number!

“I’ll go talk to him,” Dongjun said after a while. “You get some sleep. I’ll fly.”

Junhyung nodded before wiping a hand across his face. “You better take the Interplanet.”

“I will , mate,” Dongjun groaned, then clambered out of the pilot’s seat to go find Junseong.

It didn’t take too long.

It wasn’t exactly like there were a great number of rooms to hide in. Junseong was in his usual
place, hunched over his knife collection on the floor of the living area, his hair curling around his
ears.

“We were worried about you,” Dongjun began, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm into the
doorframe.

“So,” Junseong said abruptly, not looking up from his knives.

Dongjun tried again. “If you’re feeling up for it, do you want to teach me how to use a knife?”

“Whatever,” Junseong said again, but there was a trembling catch to his voice. Was he crying?

“Are you okay, mate?”

Junseong didn’t say anything. He just pulled his hood up over his head to hide his ears.

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