Agent of Destruction

The car pulled up in front of the Stardust Lounge just before midnight and Namjoon slid on a pair of sunglasses before stepping out onto the sidewalk, Sejin and his bodyguard following right behind him. The exterior was covered with an elegant purple awning, above which hung a sleek sign with Stardust Lounge written in bright, flowing script. A black carpet led the way to the entrance, where a sharply-dressed man opened the door for him with gloved hands. Here we go, Namjoon thought nervously.

Just inside the door a woman stood at a paneled wood stand, but her dress and diamond jewelry were more befitting a society darling than a hostess and she smiled as Namjoon approached. “Welcome to the Stardust Lounge,” she said, her voice light and breathy. “May I take your coats, gentlemen?”

She took Namjoon's coat last, folding it carefully over her arm on top of the others. “Table or booth, sir?”

“Neither,” he said offhandedly, “I'd like a private room, with a view.”

The woman's face changed from pleasant to almost predatory, though her smile didn't waver. “I see,” she said, dipping her head, “and your friends… ?”

“Will be content with a booth,” Namjoon replied, jerking his head at them carelessly. The woman handed their coats to another girl and gestured for them to follow her into the lounge.

It was fairly large and had been decorated like a swing club, complete with gilded columns and a live band in white suit jackets. If it wasn't for his knowledge of what lay upstairs, Namjoon would have thought himself back in the roaring twenties. “Your booth, sirs,” the woman said, gesturing to an empty booth near the dance floor. Sejin and the bodyguard sat dutifully as the woman led Namjoon on to a set of double doors near the back of the lounge.

Once the doors swung shut behind them the music was cut off and the dim lighting became almost non-existent. “My name is Iseul,” the woman said, gesturing for Namjoon to continue following her, “and your face is already familiar to me, RapMonster.”

“Mr. Kim will do,” Namjoon said carelessly, though his heart was pounding erratically. The agents had told him to be powerful and commanding, but it was all he could do to keep his voice from cracking as Iseul brought him up a flight of stairs into another room. “There's just a few formalities before we proceed,” she said, sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. “Our standard rate is $350 for thirty minutes, $800 for an hour and $2000 for the night, unless you want a premium item, which varies in price.” She handed him a single sheet of paper and a pen. “This is a service and confidentiality agreement we require of all new clients. Your identity is safe with us, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon signed the document and handed it back to her. “Anything else?” he asked imperiously.

“I'll need to check your person for any illicit items,” she said, sliding the paper into a drawer. “Do you have any drugs or weapons on you?”

“No.”

“Please place your hands on your head and stand with your feet apart,” she directed. Namjoon obeyed and Iseul conducted a quick but thorough search. Satisfied, she beckoned him on again and Namjoon steeled himself as they entered the next room.

It was large and beautifully furnished, but empty. This surprised him and he glanced back at Iseul. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

“Selections are private, Mr. Kim,” Iseul replied as she guided him over to a couch. “May I know what your preferences are?”

Namjoon sat down and leaned back against the plush cushions. He knew what his response was supposed to be, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“Mr. Kim?”

Pull yourself together! he berated himself. “Apologies, this is… well, this is my first time at an establishment like this.”

Iseul nodded. “I see. Would you care to see a selection of items, then?”

The word yes proved to be too much, so he simply nodded and took a deep, silent breath as Iseul disappeared behind yet another door. She was gone for a few minutes, time Namjoon spent memorizing as much detail as he could about everything he had seen so far. He didn't know what the agents might find useful, but he was determined to bring back whatever information he could.

The door finally reopened and Iseul held it ajar as several people filed out behind her and formed a line in front of Namjoon. There were six girls and three boys, all of varying ages and builds. The girls wore beautiful evening gowns, while the boys wore slacks and silk shirts unbuttoned halfway down their chests. All of them bowed and kept their eyes fixed on the floor in front of them. Their faces were expressionless, as if they were ready to assume whatever emotion Namjoon decided to pay for.

Namjoon pushed aside a torrent of anger and outrage and stood up languidly, sliding his sunglasses into his blazer pocket as he approached the line. He perused each one as carelessly as possible, then settled on a girl in the middle. “How much?” he asked, nodding at her.

“Mae is one of our premium items, Mr. Kim,” Iseul replied. “Her starting rate is $500 for thirty minutes.”

Namjoon stared down at the top of the girl’s head. She was incredibly small and couldn't have been a day over thirteen, though the skimpy orange dress she wore gave the illusion of maturity. “This one, then,” he said finally.

Iseul snapped her fingers and the other escorts left the room wordlessly as she stood up. “Payment up front, sir,” she said crisply, so Namjoon pulled out the wallet the agents had given him, counted out five hundred dollars in cash and placed it in her open palm.

“Show the gentleman in, Mae,” Iseul said, sliding the money into a large envelope.

Mae led him down a dark hallway and into a small room with gauzy hangings. The lighting was dim, but Namjoon could make out a circular bed in the middle of the room, along with what appeared to be a chaise lounge by the window.

“Do you wish to wash, sir?” Mae asked, gesturing at a tiny bathroom.

“No thank you,” Namjoon said, his voice rougher than he had meant it to be, but Mae just nodded and took a place in the middle of the room, her tiny hands clasped in front of her demurely. “How shall I begin, sir?” she asked.

“Begin?” Namjoon echoed stupidly.

Mae hooked a finger under the strap of her dress. “Would you like to do it, or watch me?”

“No!” Namjoon exclaimed, then he caught himself and took a deep breath. “Actually, could we just… talk?”

Mae seemed surprised. “Talk?”

“Yeah, you know, with words and stuff.” His joke fell flat and he raced to think of something else. “It's just… I could use someone to listen to me, please.”

Mae sat on the bed and shrugged. “If you wish. Will you sit, sir?” she said, patting the spot beside her.

Namjoon took the offered place and tried not to let his panic show on his face. You just have to fill thirty minutes, he reminded himself. Pick something!

“You're nervous?” Mae asked. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“No, I'm… ” Namjoon sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“For what, sir?”

“I'm usually much calmer than this.”

Mae slid a hand across his thigh. “I understand, sir.”

Namjoon repressed a shudder and took her hand in his. “Tell me, where are you from, Mae? Your English is very good.”

“Would you prefer Korean?” Mae said, switching to her native tongue.

“English is fine,” Namjoon said hastily. “Were you born here?”

Mae shook her head. “Busan, actually. I came here a few years ago.”

Namjoon stood up suddenly and went over to the window.

“Forgive my rudeness, sir, but you didn't pay for me to tell you my life story.”

She could give the whole game away if she tells them I wouldn't sleep with her, Namjoon realized. I've got to do something.

“Sir?”

Inspiration struck and Namjoon turned around again. “I'm sorry, it's just… well, I got drunk last night and made a bet with my friends that I could do this. I didn't want to back down, but I'm too shy to go through with it.”

Mae nodded understandingly. “I see,” she murmured.

“I would be eternally grateful if you would make it seem like…”

“Of course, sir,” she said immediately, “whatever you like.”

Namjoon breathed a silent sigh of relief and sat back down on the bed. “So, do you miss Busan?”

They talked for a while, then Mae glanced at the clock on the wall. “Our time is nearly up,” she reminded him. “Miss Iseul will be at her post downstairs, so just go back out the way you came.”

“Thank you, Mae,” he said, squeezing her hand warmly. “You've been very kind.”

“Not at all, sir,” she said, bowing again. “You should leave now.”

Her eyes seemed stony even as she smiled and Namjoon’s heart broke all over again. “I
… I wish you all the best,” he said lamely.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied mechanically.

Namjoon left the room and tried not to sprint down the stairs as he looked for Iseul. She wasn't in the office, so he continued through the double doors and reentered the dance hall. Sejin was watching for him and immediately stood up as he came over. “Well?” he asked in a low voice, but Namjoon merely shook his head and nodded at the door.

Iseul was indeed at her post and she smiled at him as they approached. “I trust you were satisfied, sir?” she asked.

“Very,” he managed, “and I'd like to make an inquiry.”

Iseul seemed surprised, but inclined her head.

“We're on an American tour right now, but I understand that you have multiple establishments across the country?”

“Indeed,” she said cautiously.

“I'd like to deepen my experience as I travel,” he whispered, “and possibly continue my patronage after we return to Seoul. Can you arrange some meetings?”

The gleam returned to her eyes and and she smiled again. “Certainly, Mr. Kim,” she said graciously, “I'll make some calls.”

The girl brought their coats and Namjoon gave Iseul a single nod before they stepped out into the night.

“Well?”

“Go back to the hotel,” he said immediately.

“The hotel?” Sejin echoed. “But-”

“I want to be alone, Sejin,” he muttered. “Please?”

Their cab arrived and Sejin sighed. “Very well,” he said, “but don't go anywhere else after the debriefing, got it?”

After dropping Sejin and the bodyguard off, Namjoon headed to a dive bar a few blocks over. It was a seedy place, but fairly busy as they pulled up and Namjoon was able to slip inside without drawing too much attention. He bypassed the bar and headed for a rickety staircase that went up to a single unmarked door. He knocked twice and looked up at where the hidden camera was, then the door buzzed open and he went inside.

“That was prompt,” Porter commented as the door closed behind him.

“I didn't care to linger,” Namjoon returned. The room had been fashioned like a studio apartment, with a refrigerator, card table and two cots against the wall. A small TV showed a sports game, while a coffeepot hummed on a hot plate.

“It's not much, but it's home for the week,” O’Hare said, noticing Namjoon's perusal.

“Whatcha got?” Porter asked immediately.

“I'm not sure,” Namjoon confessed, “but I tried to remember as much as possible.”

“You got entry?” O’Hare confirmed.

“Yes. A woman patted me down and took me upstairs.”

“How many workers?”

“Nine, six girls and three boys. The girl I chose didn't look much older than thirteen.”

“What else?”

Namjoon racked his brain. “It was very upscale,” he said, “and very quick. No other clients were present during the whole process. The woman, Iseul, said that selections were private.”

“That means exclusivity,” Porter mused, “and possibly some complications.”

“How much did they charge you?” O’Hare asked.

“Five hundred dollars.”

Porter let out a low whistle. “For what, thirty minutes?”

Namjoon nodded. “I didn't know what to do once I was in the room, so I pretended to be nervous and just talked about anything I could think of. The girl seemed to buy it, but I'm not sure I can pull that again.”

Porter nodded. “We can give you some pointers to work with,” he said offhandedly, “but did you hint at future visits?”

“Yes, and I even mentioned continuing in Seoul.”

“Good,” O’Hare said approvingly. “That will get Song’s attention more than anything else. He might even want to groom you as an investor, which means-”

“A higher chance of a face-to-face meeting,” Porter finished. “Keep acting interested in the company itself and see where that leads.”

Namjoon nodded. “Anything else?”

“Your friends have been enjoying a night out on the town, courtesy of the FBI,” O’Hare said. “Your manager said you feigned illness in order to stay behind, so you should be in bed when they return.”

“We'll contact you if anything develops before you leave New York,” Porter added. “Try to get some sleep.”

Namjoon left as discreetly as he had come and hailed a taxi from the sidewalk. The events of the evening were swirling together in his mind, but the most prevalent image was the hardened look he had seen in Mae's eyes. She's so young, he thought as he climbed into the cab. They headed back to the hotel and Namjoon tried to push it all away, to consign it to oblivion, but he had been shaken too deeply. All of them looked so beaten, he thought, staring out the window, and all because someone lied to them, tricked them and enslaved them for money.

Once he was back at the hotel he beelined for the elevators and went straight back to his suite on the tenth floor. His suite was next to Jin’s and he knew Jin would come check on him soon, so he quickly changed into pajamas, tousled his hair and climbed into bed as if he had been there all the time.Within twenty minutes he heard Jin’s door open and close and he shut his eyes as the door between their suites opened.

“Namjoon?” Jin whispered, poking his head in. “Are you feeling any better?”

Namjoon pretended to be asleep and Jin tiptoed over to him.

“Is he asleep?” he heard Yoongi whisper.

“Yeah,” Jin replied, putting a hand to his forehead, “but I don't think he has a fever.”

“We'll bring him some breakfast in the morning,” Yoongi decided. “Come on, let him rest.”

Jin turned off the light and they left the room, quietly closing the door behind them. Their compassionate exchange proved to be too much for Namjoon and he cried himself to sleep.

Notes