All it took was a simple phone call to know where Appa was.

Supposedly, he needed to clear his head and had decided to go for a walk. We decided to make our move then, with a plan prior to going to his place about what we would do if caught.

Gulping, I extract my old key from the depths of my jeans pocket before inserting it into the door. Hearing a click, I slowly remove the key before I turn the cool metal of the doorknob.

His house is a mess.

Clothes are scattered everywhere, the kitchen sink is piled with dishes, and papers are strewn about the floor. It's almost as if he was looking for something and got so caught up in finding it that he forgot to maintain his place.

But what was he looking for?

"You used to live here?" Namjoon tries and fails to hide the disgust in his voice.

I clear my throat. "Well, it didn't really look like this before..."

"Yeah, this place is so messier than when we visited that one time." Jimin says with concern. "I feel like we should get a bodyguard for your father as well. From the agency, I mean. Just in case."

I look at him, hope blazing in my eyes. "Really? You think that could help him?"

"I think it can lower the chances that things would get worse for him." He says calmly, as if trying to dim my desperation. "Never hurts to be careful."

I nod. "Okay, then. Let's get someone for him."

"Guys, we're kind of missing the point here." Namjoon states matter-of-factly, and when I look over at him he has gloves covering his hands. "Fingerprints. Put some on too and let's start looking."

I throw the pair on the floor and look at Namjoon while he starts digging through drawers. "How do we know what to look for?"

He turns around and glances at me before returning to frantic shuffling. "Anything that might relate him to a past with the Sparked Mafia. Get out any papers containing names of people you don't recognize-"

"But he works at a hospital." I say urgently. "He's bound to have information on some patients whose names I've never heard of."

"Yeah...at the hospital. If there are patient files at his house, he's either a super dedicated surgeon or that patient is a clue to something." Jimin pipes in as he picks through the clothes on the floor.

I nod, thinking about how Appa used to peer over documents even at home, in his study, on the bench outside, at the dinner table. I never understood why his work was so time consuming, why he had to be away from me for so long day after day. I missed my father even when he was sitting right in front of me.

Whenever I would bring it up to him, ask him to detach from his work long enough for us to have a conversation, he would quickly fold up the paper in his hands and tape it to the bottom of whatever surface he was at. He never failed to do that.

"Fuck that's it." I murmur and sprint outside. The boys follow me and express confusion when they see me rummaging my hand under the swing on our front porch. Nothing here.

When I get to his study in a panic, I move my hand around under his desk so quickly that I cut my finger from a jutted out piece of wood. "Ahh, shit." I say and Jimin quickly takes my bleeding hand in his own.

"Kyung Mi, calm down. You're hurting yourself. Do you want to tell us your thought process-"

"I'm fine." I say with a clenched jaw, pulling out of his grasp. I need to know if my father left something, anything, from when he was mentally stable. I need to remember that there was a time when we were normal.

I rush to the dining table and take out my phone flashlight, deciding to inspect the area with my eyes this time. My heart skips a beat when I see a white paper taped to the bottom of the table.

This could be it. The clue, the shard of a memory, the last information in our hunt for the truth.

I rip it out with my non-bleeding hand and unfold the paper carelessly. Tears form in my eyes when I see its contents.

"Fuck."