Sevastyan
A neutral Merchari client had offered the use of one of his residences for the meeting between Sevastyan and Black Flower.
The owner of the house was not Korean and the architecture reflected a mixture of admiration for traditional Hanok building features and severe modern aesthetic.
It was set up on a hill outside the urban heart of Seoul.
Oscar opened the car door and Sevastyan stepped out, buttoning his black coat as he strode to the entrance. A doorman bowed and opened the gate onto a courtyard. Oscar and Ma, looking smart in their gray suits and long wool coats, fell in behind.
“Black Flower has yet to arrive,” a second butler announced, meeting Sevastyan at the door of the main house.
That was as it should be. Sevastyan nodded to the doorman.
He’d planned to arrive early. Even though they were meeting at a third-party location, it subtly implied that she was coming to him if he was seated before her.
And he would be. Any little bit he could punish her for what she wanted to do to Jun was a bonus.
Not that he would let himself do anything that was out of character for a Hand of the Yadro.
The butler showed Sevastyan into a sunroom built in the shape of a bird cage, at least thirty feet in diameter.
The walls and ceiling were entirely glass set in steel framing.
Butterflies flitted overhead. Small trees made an inner circle, their branches meeting at points.
An artificial creek with a fish pond at the end meandered through one side with two tiny foot bridges built over it.
In the center of all the greenery and water was an open space where entertainment most likely took place.
Today it was bare except for a few potted plants too heavy to move.
On a spread of tile were two chairs with a tea table set between them. Both chairs faced the door.
Sevastyan stripped off his long winter coat and handed it to the butler. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered himself into one of the chairs. “Is Madam Black Flower far away?” he asked the butler in English.
“Only two or three minutes, sir,” the butler replied in the same language.
Sevastyan settled himself in to wait.
Black Flower arrived in exactly three minutes.
She turned the corner in a white suit, flanked by her own two attendants, a large man and a woman.
Sevastyan kept his face impassive, staying in his seat only long enough to be seen and then standing.
As part of the negotiations, they’d agreed to use neither Russian nor Korean honorifics.
“Madam.”
She eyed him up and down before settling on his eyes. The height difference between them was significant. “Envoy.”
Sevastyan half smiled. She was already angling for advantage. While he’d chosen a neutrally respectful English title, she’d gone with one that could signify power, or it could be the position of a supplicant. The choice was creative.
“The master of the house has lent us a beautiful room.” Sevastyan waved towards the second chair. The four attendants spread out just beyond direct earshot. The butler left and returned with tea. Sevastyan and Black Flower held their silence while the tea was poured. The butler took his leave.
“How is the Merchari going to make this right?” Black Flower said. She had a heart-shaped face and a perm in her short hair. If she had any gray, it was covered. Her makeup was demure and natural. Her hands were soft and she had a French manicure. Whoever cared for the house, it was not her.
Sevastyan sipped his tea and set down the delicate bowl that served as a cup.
“The Merchari in general, and the Yadro in particular, are under no obligations to make right anything in this matter. We are, however, willing to facilitate healthy relationships, as long as advice is taken for mitigating future risks.”
“Advice?” Black Flower raised both eyebrows and sipped her own tea. “I fail to see what advice applies. My husband died by your merchandise. You sold a defective product.”
“Your husband pursued purchase of a product known to be volatile and failed to take proper safeguards. We only allowed him to purchase what he specifically requested.”
Her eyes were hard as flint. “Your product should be destroyed. It’s a hazard.”
“Our product is not currently in hand, due primarily to your husband’s choices. Since it was not a permanent sale, I would be within my rights to ask for compensation against future profits that would have been made had the product not been lost.”
Two hot spots appeared in her cheeks. “My husband is dead.” Her voice rose. “That ill-begotten whore you sold him killed him. And you . . . you dare ask for me to pay?”
“I’m saying that if your husband had rented a car from us, driven it drunk, and crashed it, most assuredly, our insurance would be demanding payment for the damaged vehicle. The entertainment your husband purchased has a lifetime earning potential worth billions of won.
The annual revenue alone far exceeds your own total worth.”
The two hot spots in her cheeks grew darker. Sevastyan leaned back in his seat.
“The whore wasn’t even yours. You let one of your debtors sell him.”
“The unit in question was collateral to a significant debt, held by us. So while we did not have direct control, your husband’s actions have caused us significant loss. And it was not our choice to sell to your husband. It is well documented that your husband contacted our debtor repeatedly,
demanding access to the unit’s entertainment possibilities. We merely agreed to the request that the collateral be used in additional ways to pay back the debt. Technically, the fee your husband paid covered only some of the debt’s interest.”
“If you’re only here to tell me I have no standing, why even come?”
Sevastyan picked up his teacup, delaying his answer.
He let the flavors fill his nose and sipped slowly, pulling away to truly enjoy the delicate green flavor on his tongue.
Any sense of himself as Ellisandre’s submissive or Rei’s lover felt distant and foreign.
He was . . . something else in this moment.
But to get back to them, this was who he had to be.
He let the assholery flow. “There is a possibility our desires are not at cross purposes.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I want the crossbreed son of a dog executed.”
“And we want our debt repaid. You also have the small matter of your dead cousin.”
She blinked. “That has no bearing here.”
“On the contrary. Your cousin was executed for disobeying direct orders from the Yadro. He brought shame to his family for interfering on your husband’s behalf.”
“I’m not close to that part of my family. Nor am I responsible for them. However he died, that is a separate matter.”
“Riddle me this, then. Why are you not demanding Bak Gyeong pay for selling your husband a defective product?”
The two hot spots appeared in her cheeks again. There it was again, that invisible wall around Jun’s old manager and agency owner. Whenever it seemed like he should be destroyed for the ridiculous choices he had made, someone demurred to follow through.
“I do not hold Bak Gyeong responsible. It should have been better arranged.”
“And your husband was the eager buyer. He chose the venue of his enjoyment.”
“The incident took place on Merchari property.”
“Property rented to your husband for the week and staffed by himself. None of our people were onsite.”
“If the Merchari were not responsible, they should not have stepped in and tried to stop the sale partway through. My cousin was merely carrying out his duties and was killed for it.”
There were several holes in her argument. But they were ignorable.
“You want your son to marry into a prominent family. That marriage is on hold due to rumors surrounding your husband’s death.”
Black Flower said nothing.
Sevastyan tapped the tea table and looked away, pretending to admire the garden.
It was truly worthy of being appreciated, unlike so much else that was going on.
“Should the unit be arrested and successfully tried for murder, then the marriage will go through. But as long as these whispers continue, your family’s status will fall. As it is, you’ve barely secured this match. And without it, you have no standing in your family or society,
at least not standing of significance.”
Sevastyan faced her more directly. “I’ve no interest in obstructing your son’s nuptials. My only task is to recover as much of the debt as possible.”
“Then we are at cross purposes. This meeting is pointless.” Black Flower stood.
Sevastyan ignored her tantrum. “I’m authorized to offer you a commission on earnings recovered, if you agree to continue to seek a murder conviction, provided you are quiet once we’ve leveraged that threat to recover the asset.”
She turned around, holding herself stiffly. “You want the warrant to go through, but not the arrest?”
“Precisely. We need a lever large enough to force the asset back to work, for us.”
“A commission will not get my son married.”
“No, but some quietly placed words and a counter rumor about a car company paying out insurance money would, especially if you suddenly have the money to provide largess to your son.”
“How do I know that I’ll be paid? My husband was doing Bak a favor by buying services. You might see the whore as an asset, but you’re not the only one counting him on your balance sheet. Bak always had to pay the first owner before you. So who makes money first now?”
Sevastyan studied her face. It did not appear that she was lying.
It would be interesting, then, to uncover who this first “owner” was.
If Sevastyan had to gamble in that very moment, his money would be on a parental figure.
“When we recover the unit, he will be under our complete control to secure the debt. You will be paid.”
“And when this other collector comes calling?”
“Obviously, if they exist, they’ve lost control of their asset.”
“If you don’t pay, I will have blood.”
“If we don’t pay, it’s because the money is not being collected, in which case, we are happy to see the unit eliminated.”
She eyed him for a long moment. “I want my son’s wedding paid for in full, and sufficient funds to set him up with a primary residence.”
“One midlevel residence, and the contribution of the average amount for a large family wedding, not a society wedding,” Sevastyan countered.
“Five bedrooms, large family wedding, and the rumors start circulating within a week.”
“Agreed.”
“I do not like you, Envoy.”
“I do not find myself fond of you either.”
“Good. How will you put a stop to the arrest order, once I have it?”
“That’s for me to know, and you to not know.” Sevastyan stood and buttoned his suit jacket.
Her lip curled in disgust. “And how will you compensate me for seeing his disgusting face in every ad and billboard?”
“One tenth of a percent of all earnings recovered will continue to flow to you. That’s the commission. Count your money every time you see his face. He’ll be working for you.”
Black Flower glared at Sevastyan for several heartbeats. “You have no heart, do you?”
You have no idea. Sevastyan kept his thoughts firmly behind his teeth as he buttoned his suit jacket. He signaled the butler at the door for his coat. “Considering what I buy and sell, a heart would be a liability, wouldn't it?”