INKBOUND
(Mafia Boss Lee Seokmin x FemReader)
Dark Romance, Thriller, Mafia AU, Strangers-to-Lovers, loyalty, betrayal, elegance, and bloodshed, slow-burn
content warning: This story contains themes of organized crime, violence, emotional trauma, grief, loneliness, and morally grey characters. It also include mentions of blood, death, cigarettes, and power dynamics that some readers could find triggering. Please proceed with caution.
The city didnāt sleep, but it bowed its head in silence when he walked through its veins.
Rain whispered against the windows of the Rosecourt building an opulent skyscraper nestled in the heart of the Eastern District. The penthouse glowed dimly, shades drawn, liquor glistening in crystal decanters, but nothing dared to shimmer more dangerously than the man seated behind the mahogany desk.
Lee Seokmin.
A name spoken like a warning and hope in equal parts.
He was calm. Always calm. But underneath that calm lived a precision that made even seasoned men tremble. Every move was calculated, every silence deliberate. Yet his men followed him not because of fear alone there was respect, unwavering and brutal. Because when Lee Seokmin promised protection, he delivered. When he swore vengeance, blood ran down the streets.
āBoss.ā
He looked up.
His second-in-command, Myungho, stood at the doorway, soaked from the rain but unsmiling, eyes tense.
āThey tried again.ā
Seokminās gaze didnāt waver. āWhich ones?ā
āThe Bertram remnants. In Busan.ā
A flicker of irritation danced in his otherwise tranquil expression. āI buried their name three years ago.ā
āThey forgot that, apparently.ā
Seokmin stood up. Even in a crisp black dress shirt, no blazer, sleeves folded neatly, he commanded the air around him like a monarch who didn't need a throne to be obeyed.
āIāll remind them.ā
His rise had never been bloody for the sake of blood. That was what separated him from the monsters he crushed. He didnāt delight in pain. He simply didnāt flinch from it.
Orphaned at 9. Lost his older brother at 14 in a betrayal by their own organization. By 18, heād taken it back. Not with screams but with silence, steel, and eyes that stared straight into evil and didnāt blink.
He rebuilt the Eastern Circle from the ground up, renamed it Ardente "the burning ones." Now, the syndicate operated behind the veil of high-end art auctions, shipping routes, and global tech deals. Clean above the table. Ruthless underneath.
And through it all, Seokmin had one rule: Do no harm to the innocent. Never touch the undeserving.
Which made him unpredictable.
Which made him terrifying.
Because mercy was only granted to those who deserved it. And when he judged that you did not
You disappeared.
In the shadows of Ardenteās ballroom, lit by black chandeliers and veined mirrors, he watched his men celebrate a minor win.
Someone had intercepted a cargo of weapons meant to fuel another gangās war. Seokmin didnāt flinch at their downfall. He only observed.
From the mezzanine above, glass in hand, he observed a world that never truly belonged to him. Even when he ruled it.
He wasā¦ lonely.
But he never let it show.
Because love was a liability.
Because kindness had gotten his brother killed.
Because attachment made you bleed harder.
And yetā¦ somewhere, fate was moving.
Somewhere, a girl with ink-stained fingers and tired eyes from working two jobs would soon step into a world she had no business in.
Not yet. Not now.
But soon.
When her life would crumble.
And he would be the one holding the pieces.
But for now
Lee Seokmin remained untouchable.
A king in a glass tower.
Waiting.
Watching.
Bleeding in silence.
The scent of smoke always lingered longer than the fire.
Lee Seokmin sat in his office, the top floor of a discreet glass tower in downtown Seoul, watching the sun disappear behind the cityscape. A single cigarette burned in his fingers, untouched. He hadnāt smoked it in years but still lit one when memories clawed up from the shadows.
Tonight was one of those nights.
His desk was clear. No blood. No files. Just silence. Until a soft knock echoed on the steel door.
āCome in,ā he said.
Myungho stepped in, crisp in a dark navy suit, no tie, hair slicked back. His second-in-command. Loyal since their teen years. And the only one who dared walk in when Seokmin was in this state.
āYou lit one again.ā
āDidnāt smoke it.ā
āYou thinking about them again?ā
Seokmin didnāt respond. He didnāt need to.
Because yes he was thinking about that night.
The night that broke the last naive part of him. The night he learned that even family could sell you for power. The night his blood ran down the stairs of a home he built with trust.
He had killed them all with his own hands. Not out of rage. But out of lesson.
Loyalty is sacred. Betrayal is final.
āI need to find the leak,ā Seokmin muttered, tapping ash into the tray. āOne of the new boys is feeding intel to the Russians.ā
Myungho leaned against the door. āAlready on it. But Seokmin...ā
āWhat.ā
āAre you sleeping at all?ā
A cold chuckle. āDoes it matter?ā
It did. Because when Seokmin didnāt sleep, people ended up with broken ribs.
Myungho studied him quietly. The white shirt. Sleeves rolled. Scars peeking just above the wrist. Eyes like wildfire behind glass.
"You know, itās okay to want more than this."
"More than what?"
"This life. Fear. Control. Power. Maybeā¦ someone to come home to."
Seokmin laughed softly, bitterly.
"That someone doesnāt exist for people like me."
He stood, walked to the floor-length windows. The city lights blinked like fireflies on concrete.
And somewhere down there, a woman who hadnāt entered his life yet was laughing at a joke sheād forget. Walking home with cheap ballet shoes in her bag. Thinking her past defined her.
He didnāt know her name. Not yet.
But fate was stitching their threads already.
Later that night, Seokmin walked into the lower lounge of his estate.
Three of his men stood lined up against the wall. Nervous. One was shaking.
āTurn around,ā he said.
They obeyed.
āIām not interested in excuses. Whoever handed off the port schedule last week you have sixty seconds.ā
Silence.
Then trembling lips.
āIāI didnāt mean to, boss. I justāmy sister, sheāā
Bang.
Gun down. Blood on marble.
Seokmin turned to the other two. āLoyalty is life. Betrayal is death. Understood?ā
"Y-Yes, boss."
āGood. Clean it.ā
Back in his quarters, Seokmin showered. Blood always clung to his collarbones like guilt.
He stared at himself in the mirror, water dripping from his jaw.
He had everything. Money. Fear. Power.
But he was starting to feel it.
The loneliness that crept in when no one dared ask you how you were.
The ache of knowing your kindness would scare people more than your rage.
He was the King.
But a king needs a home.
And thatā¦ he hadnāt found yet.
A cracked phone screen. An expired bus pass. A ballet shoe stitched three times on the side.
That was all Y/N had left of her pastāand she was doing her best to pretend that was enough.
At twenty-three, she was the kind of woman people noticed, but never truly saw. Always polite, always helpful, alwaysā¦ invisible. But it was easier that way. The more invisible you were, the less you got hurt. And God, she had been hurt enough.
Her job at the community studio wasnāt glamorous. She taught ballet to children who cried about missing snack time and teenagers who rolled their eyes at every plie. But when the music played and her feet hit the floor, she remembered who she used to be.
Before everything.
Before the family that made her doubt her own worth. Before the father who told her love was earned. Before the mother who only looked at her when she bled.
Now, she lived alone. In a studio apartment with one plant she always forgot to water. Quiet. Clean. Forgettable.
She liked it that way.
Or at least, she convinced herself she did.
Until one night changed it all.
The moon was high when Y/N locked up the studio. Her shoes were in her bag, her playlist was on shuffle, and she walked the streets like she did every other Thursday night tired, but free.
But that night, something feltā¦ off.
A black car. Parked too long at the corner.
A shadow in the alley that didnāt move right.
She clutched her keys tighter, heart picking up. Quickened her pace. The hairs on her neck rose as she heard it a step behind her.
And then
āHey! You lost?ā
A man. Too close. Grinning like a knife. Two more behind him.
She stepped back. āNo, Iām just walking homeā
āAw, you sure you donāt want company, sweetheart?ā
They came closer.
And then a voice cut through the night.
Deep. Calm. Deadly.
āShe said no.ā
They all turned.
Y/N couldnāt see his face at first. Just a black coat, black gloves, and the quiet click of expensive shoes. His presence didnāt just demand attention it commanded it.
Lee Seokmin.
He hadnāt meant to be there. He never walked on foot. But tonight, he had needed air and this was the route his feet chose.
The men looked at each other.
āWho the hell are yāā
āI said,ā Seokmin repeated, removing his gloves slowly, āshe said no.ā
It was in the tone. That chilling calm. The one that meant he wasnāt going to repeat himself again.
They ran.
Y/N just stood there, frozen. He looked at her now really looked.
A woman with bruises on her confidence and a storm behind her lashes. Beautiful in a way that wasnāt loud. Just... achingly soft.
āAre you okay?ā he asked, voice gentler now.
āIā¦ I think so.ā
āDonāt walk home alone again,ā he said.
āI do it all the time.ā
āDonāt,ā he said, more firmly this time.
She nodded slowly. āThank you.ā
He looked at her for a moment. Longer than he should have. Like something inside him stirred and it didnāt scare him the way it should have.
āIāll walk you home,ā he said.
And she let him.
She didnāt know who he was.
He didnāt know her name.
But in the silence between two strangers walking under city lights, something bloomed.
Something sharp and slow and dangerous.
And maybe fate didnāt rush things
But it always made sure the stars aligned when it mattered most.
Y/N didnāt see him again for two weeks.
Not that she expected to.
The night he walked her home, she didnāt ask his name, and he didnāt ask for hers. It felt like a fleeting moment of fateāa kind stranger, a terrifying almost-incident, and a silent promise between two people who didnāt belong in each otherās worlds.
Exceptā¦
She thought of him more than she should.
The way his voice made her stop shaking. The calm in his eyes. The rage he didnāt raise, just owned. He wasnāt gentle. But he was careful with her.
And no one had ever been careful with her before.
Lee Seokmin hadnāt stopped thinking about her either.
He didnāt know why.
Heād seen beautiful women before. Dated some. Used others. It came with the territory of power. But none of them stuck not in his mind, and certainly not in his chest the way she did.
There was something about the look in her eyes. Not the fear, but the hurt she carried like a second skin. The way she didnāt ask for help but didnāt pretend she didnāt need it either.
And the quiet strength in her thank you. Like she was used to saving herself. Like he was just a glitch in her survival routine.
He found her name within 12 hours. Address, job, routine he had it all. Not because he planned to use it. But because he wanted to protect her, and in his world, protection meant power.
But Seokmin didnāt approach her again. Not yet. Not until the moment felt right. And he had learned patience the hard way.
Y/N was walking home again, umbrella tucked against the wind. The sky cried harder than she did the night she realized her mother never meant her apologies. The storm soaked through her coat and her socks. Still, she walked.
Then headlights flashed beside her, slow, deliberate.
A black Mercedes.
The passenger window rolled down.
āYouāre really committed to getting into trouble, arenāt you?ā a familiar voice said.
Y/N blinked. Her heart stuttered.
āYou again?ā
āYou sound disappointed,ā Seokmin replied with a small smirk. āGet in.ā
She hesitated.
āYou sure Iām not trouble myself?ā
āI already did the math,ā he said. āIāll take my chances.ā
She bit her lip, then slid in.
The car was warm. Leather seats. Music playing low jazz, slow and smoky. He looked different tonight. Less mysterious, more human. Still dangerously composed.
āSo what do you do?ā she asked after a beat.
āI work in logistics,ā he said.
She snorted. āThatās a lie.ā
āItās not,ā he replied smoothly. āI just didnāt say what kind.ā
Y/N gave him a look.
He smiled wider.
āTransport, negotiation, business management.ā
āYouāre still lying.ā
āWould it scare you if I told you the truth?ā
āProbably.ā
āThen maybe not tonight,ā he said.
They talked the entire ride. About everything. About nothing.
She laughed really laughed and it hit him like a punch in the chest.
He hadnāt heard something so pure in years.
And when he dropped her off, she turned to him with a shy smile and whispered, āThank you again. Youāre kindā¦ in a scary kind of way.ā
Seokmin stared at her.
āDonāt mistake what I do with who I am,ā he said quietly.
āThen who are you?ā
He didnāt answer. Just held her gaze until she stepped out and closed the door.
The engine purred.
The storm outside didnāt matter anymore.
That night, Seokmin called off a hit.
The man deserved to die. But Seokmin was thinking of Y/Nās voice. Her laughter. The way she looked at him like he could be good.
And for some reason, he wanted to be.
Even if only in her eyes.
Y/N didnāt hear from him for three more days.
It bothered her more than she expected.
There were no texts, no sudden car pulling up on the curb, no faint jazz slipping from a luxury dashboard. Just silence. And it left a hollow ache in her chest she didnāt want to name.
Until the envelope came.
Tucked in her mailbox, handwritten in dark ink on creamy paper.
You said you werenāt scared. Letās find out. Friday. 7 PM. Iāll wait for you at the rooftop. ā S.
She read it five times.
The rooftop?
Was this supposed to be cryptic or romantic?
She didnāt know. She only knew sheād be there.
Friday. 6:58 PM.
Her heels clicked along the empty corridor of the high-rise. Floor 32. Wind hummed like a secret behind the metal door. She pushed it open.
The city greeted her.
It glittered like a sea of stars scattered across black concrete. Wind tangled through her hair, cool and quiet.
And then she saw him.
Standing at the edge, coat billowing, back turned.
Like a man who didnāt just own this rooftop he ruled everything below it.
āHi,ā she said, closing the door behind her.
Seokmin turned slowly, his eyes sweeping over her. His gaze paused for a fraction of a second too long on her lips.
āYou came.ā
āYou said youād wait.ā
āThat I did.ā
He gestured to the small table set near the railing. A candle flickered beside two glasses. Wine poured. Cheese, strawberries, and dark chocolate arranged like an artistās palette.
Y/N raised a brow.
āA rooftop picnic?ā
āI donāt do restaurants,ā he said. āToo public.ā
āWhat do you do, then?ā
āI prefer knowing all the exits,ā he said, voice soft. āAnd whoās holding the knives.ā
She shivered. Not from the cold.
He pulled out her chair, his fingers brushing hers as she sat. It was the first time they touched.
And neither of them breathed for a second too long.
They talked again. But this time it wasnāt about the rain or fear or survival. It was about favorite colors and music, the comfort of silence, childhood dreams that didnāt make it out alive.
She saw a piece of him tonight raw, thoughtful, surprisingly poetic.
But there was something dark beneath it all. Not just his world, but something he carried like a wound under velvet.
Y/N leaned her cheek on her hand, studying him under the moonlight. āWhy are you really doing this?ā
Seokmin met her eyes.
His voice was quiet. āBecause I havenāt stopped thinking about you since the night I met you.ā
That stunned her.
āI donāt expect anything,ā he continued. āNot your time. Not your touch. I justā¦ I wanted to know if I could still feel something real. If I could want something without breaking it.ā
She blinked. Her throat tightened.
āDo you want me?ā she whispered.
He stood slowly.
Walked to her side. Paused.
And then, with the softest reverence his fingers grazed her cheek, cupped her jaw. It wasnāt lust. It was longing.
āI want you,ā he whispered, āin every way that scares me.ā
But danger follows those with too much to lose.
A red laser blinked from the rooftop next door watching. Recording.
And Y/N, still unaware, smiled up at the man who would turn her world inside out.
Y/N hadnāt meant to find the folder.
She didnāt even know she was in danger when she leaned over the wrong file cabinet in her office, searching for printer paper. A manila envelope, unlabelled but thick, had fallen to the floor.
And curiosity had always been her curse.
She opened it. And the moment she saw his name on the file, her breath left her lungs like a betrayal.
SEOKMIN, LEE ā alias DOKYEOM Known Affiliations: White Talon Syndicate Territory: Seoul Central + Jeju Involvement: Organized crime, underground trafficking, financial laundering (alleged)
Photos. Receipts. Witness accounts. Her fingers trembled.
This canāt be real.
Heās not like this.
But the name. The date. His face. There was no mistaking it. Her Seokmin the man who knew how she liked her coffee and always kept tissues for her in his car, the man who looked at her like she was the first light in a city of shadows was the mafia.
She slammed the folder shut, her breath uneven.
Her phone rang.
Seokmin.
That Night.
Y/N was waiting before he even arrived.
Her silhouette, rigid by the railing, arms crossed over her chest like she was keeping her ribs from cracking. The night was colder than usual.
Seokmin stepped out of the stairwell, frowning softly.
āI got your text,ā he said. āWhatās going on?ā
āYou lied to me.ā
His expression didnāt change.
Not a flinch. Not a twitch. That silence that made men cower.
āI found a file,ā she said. āWith your name. Your face. Your real name.ā
Still, he said nothing.
āThatās why you donāt do restaurants?ā she scoffed. āWhy you know all the exits? Because youāre scared of being caught?ā
He walked closer.
But she took a step back.
āI donāt care if youāre a criminal,ā she whispered, voice cracking. āI care that you made me feel safe in a world you built on lies.ā
āI never lied about how I felt about you.ā
āThatās not enough,ā she said. āI needed honesty. You gave me roses with knives in their stems.ā
Seokminās jaw tightened.
āIāve spent my whole life protecting the things I cared about,ā he said quietly. āYouāre the only one I didnāt protect from me.ā
She left.
And he let her.
But that night, the city held its breath. Because when a man like Seokmin loses something precious he doesnāt sleep. He bleeds.
Two Days Later
She hadnāt answered a single message. Heād sent twelve. Voice notes. Apologies. Confessions he hadnāt even told himself before.
But nothing.
Until he stood outside her apartment door, coat damp from rain, a bouquet of peonies in his hand.
He didnāt knock.
He just stood there.
Until the door opened.
Her eyes were puffy. Sheād been crying.
But her voice was small. āWhy are you here?ā
āBecause I still see your face every time I close my eyes,ā he said. āBecause I canāt protect you from me, but Iād burn the whole world before letting it touch you.ā
Tears spilled again. This time from her.
She stepped forward. Hit his chest. Once. Twice. Her fists soft but full of fury.
āYou made me love you,ā she sobbed, āand then made me question everything about you!ā
āI know,ā he breathed.
āI hated you for it.ā
āI hated me too.ā
Then she fell forward into his arms.
And he caught her like something fragile and holy.
They stood there for minutes hours maybe on the threshold of something too broken to be perfect but too precious to lose.
One Week Later
They were... trying.
It wasnāt perfect. The silence sometimes still swallowed them. Y/N flinched when the news showed crime reports. Seokmin looked away when she touched the part of his hand where a burn scar lived one she never noticed until now.
But at night, she still ended up in his arms.
And he always pulled her in tighter.
Because some things didnāt need fixing. Just time.
Y/Nās POV
Seokmin never asked me what I saw in that folder.
Maybe because he already knew.
He didnāt bring up the past, and I didnāt push until I found the ring box in his drawer. Not an engagement ring no, something else. Sleek, black metal. Engraved with an unfamiliar name:
"CHOI YOUNGSOO"
I asked him about it that night.
He went quiet.
Then he whispered, āThatās the name of the first man I ever killed.ā
I felt my blood run cold. But not from fear.
From the pain in his voice.
Seokminās POV
āI was nineteen,ā he said. āAnd my sister had just turned sixteen.ā
Y/N sat across from him, legs curled up under her, a pillow hugged to her chest.
āHe was a cop. My sisterās teacherās husband. He used to come to our neighborhood andā¦ he picked on girls who didnāt have anyone to protect them. She was one of them.ā
Y/N didnāt speak.
He didnāt stop.
āI begged my father to do something. He was in the syndicate already, but he said we couldnāt risk war with someone protected by a badge. So I did it myself.ā
He held the ring in his palm. It didnāt shine under the light.
āI made it after. As a reminder.ā
Y/N leaned forward. Voice soft. āReminder of what?ā
āThat there are monsters,ā he said. āAnd Iām one of the few that chose to kill them before they kill us.ā
She didnāt cry.
He thought she would.
But she just reached forward and took the ring out of his hand. Held it like it meant something.
Like he meant something.
That night, Seokmin kissed her like he never had before.
Like the blood on his hands meant nothing in front of her warmth.
And she let him because she was starting to understand him.
Even when she wasnāt sure she could forgive what heās done.
The next morning, Seokmin stood in the middle of the conference room.
He didnāt usually bring Y/Nās name into business.
But she had been seen with him too often. And rumors had begun to spread.
āShe is not leverage,ā he said, voice low. Deadly. āShe is not a tool. Not a pawn. The next man who mentions her name without respect will lose his tongue.ā
None of them spoke.
But every man there understood something important:
Their boss wasnāt just a shadow in a throne anymore. He was a man in love. And there is nothing more terrifying than that.
Nightfall
The rain was relentless. The kind that blurred everythingāthe skyline, the road, the mind.
Y/N never made it home that evening.
She had only left for thirty minutesāwanted to pick up Seokminās favorite pastry from that little corner shop he secretly loved but never admitted to. A dumb, soft gesture. A piece of normal in a life of chaos.
And just like that, she disappeared.
Seokminās POV
He knew the moment something was wrong.
It wasnāt just that she didnāt call. Or that her phone died.
It was the silence.
The kind that didnāt just ring it screamed.
āTrack her,ā he ordered.
His voice was like winter steel. Freezing. Sharp. Controlled only by the years of training not to kill on impulse.
When Jihoon arrived at his side, expression pale, phone shaking in his hand, Seokmin already knew.
āIt was Lee Sanghwan.ā
One of their own.
One of the older lieutenants. A man Seokmin had spared once. Too merciful. Too trusting.
Now Y/N was gone.
And mercy had left the room.
Y/Nās POV
She woke up tied to a chair.
Not bruised. Not bleeding.
But terrified.
There was something worse than physical pain it was uncertainty. The kind that settled under your skin, wormed into your lungs.
Lee Sanghwan stood before her with a crooked smile. āHe chose you over the empire,ā he said. āI wonder if youāre worth it.ā
Y/N didnāt answer.
Because she knew something he didnāt:
He was already dead. He just didnāt know it yet.
Seokminās POV ā One Hour Later
He moved like a ghost.
Three men were unconscious before they could scream. He didnāt need guns tonight. Just his hands. Just his rage.
He found her tied to a pole in the back of the warehouse, a gag in her mouth and eyes wide with both fear and relief.
He didnāt say anything.
He just fell to his knees in front of her, trembling fingers ripping off the gag.
āYou okay?ā āIāmāā Her voice cracked. āIām okay.ā
She didnāt cry.
Until he pulled her into his arms.
And then she couldnāt stop.
Back at the Safehouse
He hadnāt let go of her hand the entire ride home.
She was trembling.
So was he.
āSeokmin,ā she whispered, eyes rimmed red, āIāwhy didnāt you tell me it could be like this?ā
He looked at her. Really looked.
And for the first time, he let her see the broken in him.
āBecause I didnāt want to scare you away,ā he murmured. āBecause when Iām with youā¦ Iām not him. Not the boss. Not the monster.ā
Her breath hitched.
And she touched his scarred knuckles.
āYouāre still Seokmin,ā she said. āYouāll always be him to me.ā
That night, they slept on the couch, limbs tangled, TV flickering quietly.
He watched her sleep.
Because now he knew.
If she ever disappeared again he wouldnāt survive it.
One Week Later
There was a shift in the air.
The kind you feel in your bones before the storm touches the skyline. Seokmin had been quiet since Sanghwanās betrayal. Too quiet. The mafia boss with a sharp tongue and quicker fists now stood often in front of windows, watching the horizon like it might swallow him whole.
Y/N noticed. She noticed everything.
He hadn't spoken much about that night, about what happened afterward. He hadnāt mentioned the man whose body was found at the edge of the pier his signature etched in the brutal nature of the kill.
But she knew it was him.
Seokmin didnāt talk. He acted.
āWeāre being watched,ā Jihoon muttered, standing at Seokminās side in the meeting room.
āBy who?ā Seokmin didnāt look away from the files in front of him.
āEveryone,ā Jihoon replied. āSince Sanghwanās body surfaced, the others are circling. Waiting. Smelling blood.ā
A pause.
āAnd the girl?ā
A stillness passed between them.
āSheās none of their business,ā Seokmin said quietly. But his voice dropped like an executionerās axe.
āShe is now,ā Jihoon replied, not unkindly. āYou made her the business of every man who hates your empire.ā
Seokmin didnāt respond. But something flickered in his eyes like a match dragged across stone.
Y/Nās POV
Y/N hadnāt seen Seokmin all day. Again.
She wandered the halls of the estate, feeling like an outsider in a place that used to feel like a safehouse. A sanctuary. But things were changing. Fast.
Her bodyguard, a kind man named Minho, trailed her silently. She didnāt like the new detail. But Seokmin insisted.
You donāt argue with a man who has scars on his soul deeper than the cuts on his hands.
She found Jihoon by the greenhouse.
āJihoon?ā
He looked up.
Her voice was soft. But the tremble in it was louder than thunder.
āIs he pushing me away?ā
Jihoon looked at her for a long time before saying quietly, āHeās trying to protect you.ā
āBy disappearing?ā
āNo. By preparing to burn everything down for you.ā
Seokminās POV
That night, he found her asleep on the leather couch in his office. Curled up in his hoodie. The TV was on low, casting soft light over her face. His heart twisted.
She had no idea what wars were being planned in her name.
No idea what heād already done for her. What he was still willing to do.
He sat beside her slowly, not waking her.
āI canāt let them touch you,ā he whispered to the air, barely breathing. āEven if it means they bleed.ā
She stirred slightly in her sleep. Mumbled, āSeokminā¦ā
His hand hovered over hers.
But he didnāt touch.
Because love, in his world, wasnāt gentle.
It was a battlefield, and she was already bleeding without knowing it.
Two days later, a box arrived at the estate.
Inside was a lock of her hair. And a note:
āTake your dog off the leash, Seokmin. Sheās cute. Would hate to see her bark.ā
He crushed the box in his hand.
Something feral slipped into his gaze. Something old. Something deadly.
That Night
Y/N found him pacing in the courtyard, hands clenched.
She stepped outside barefoot, despite the cold.
āSeokmin.ā
He turned. His eyes were wild storm-choked.
She didnāt speak. Just walked to him slowly and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.
He flinched. Just for a second.
āPlease,ā she said, her voice shaking. āDonāt disappear from me.ā
He turned.
And this time, he did pull her into his arms. Desperately. Like a man drowning.
āIāll protect you,ā he murmured, burying his face in her neck. āEven if it destroys me.ā
She looked up. Eyes brimming.
āBut who will protect you, Seokmin?ā
And for the first time in a decade, he didnāt have an answer.
Perfect. Letās go deeper into the storm. The game is no longer quiet.
One Hour Before Dawn
The estate was silent.
Not the comforting kind of silence, but the kind that grips your spine suffocates before you even realize youāre gasping.
Seokmin hadnāt slept. He stood in the war room, fingers tracing the edge of the threat letter again and again, memorizing the curve of the ink like it was carved into his bones.
Jihoon arrived without knocking.
āPark Yongwoo.ā
Seokmin didnāt move. But the name settled like frost on iron.
āThe bastard?ā he muttered.
āHeās back. Rumors say heās building a ring in the south.ā
āAnd targeting her.ā
Jihoon nodded.
āHeās not after your empire, Seokmin. Heās after your heart. He wants to see you beg.ā
Something in Seokmin snapped, but it didnāt break. It sharpened.
āHeāll see me bleed first.ā
Y/Nās POV
Y/N didnāt know about the box.
She didnāt know that every second she laughed, Seokmin was gathering weapons. That behind every look he gave her, there was fear disguised as discipline.
All she knew wasā¦ he was colder again.
She hated it.
At breakfast, she reached for his hand. He didnāt flinch. But he didnāt squeeze back, either.
And that said more than silence ever could.
Two nights later, Jihoon caught Seokmin alone in the courtyard.
āSheās cracking,ā Jihoon said gently.
āI know.ā
āSheās starting to think you regret her being here.ā
āI donāt.ā
āThen say it.ā
āI canāt.ā
Jihoon stepped closer. āWhy? Because sheās your weakness?ā
āNo,ā Seokmin whispered. āBecause sheās the only thing left that keeps me human. And if they touch her, Iāll never be human again.ā
Y/N was walking through the hallway when a hand slipped a phone into her back pocket.
She paused. Looked around.
No one.
The screen lit up.
Hi sweetheart. You smell like fear. Tell Seokmin I said hello. ā YW
She dropped the phone. Her legs gave out. Her chest tightened.
Seokmin found her minutes later shaking, pale, gripping the floor like it was her lifeline.
He didnāt ask questions. He just lifted her into his arms and took her to the room.
āI need to tell you something,ā she whispered into his shirt.
But he already knew.
He had eyes on her. Always.
Seokminās POV
That night, he sat beside her bed while she slept.
She was trembling in her dreams. Mumbling his name.
He felt his own nails dig into his palms.
She deserved peace. Softness. Not monsters and memories.
And yetā¦ she chose him.
Thatās what haunted him most.
He leaned forward, kissed the back of her hand. Whispered against her skin.
āYou didnāt fall for a man, did you? You fell for a broken god who canāt even give you heaven without blood on the gates.ā
Meanwhileā¦ In the South
Park Yongwoo smiled at the photo in his hand.
Y/N stepping out of a flower shop. Alone.
āSheāll be the ruin of him,ā he said to his men. āAnd Iāll be the author of the end.ā
He lit the photo on fire.
Great. Time to unravel another layer of secrets.
Three Days Later ā The Warehouse Ambush
It was supposed to be a simple recon run.
Seokmin didnāt even wear gloves.
Heād sent Jihoon ahead with a small team. A warehouse drop, routine, untouched for months.
But nothing was untouched anymore.
The moment Jihoon stepped inside, the floor clicked.
Trap.
āMOVE!ā Jihoon screamed, but it was too late.
The explosion sent them flying.
Y/N, watching through live cams in Seokminās office, saw everything. Her scream ripped through the halls as Jihoonās feed cut to black.
And Seokmin he didnāt breathe for five seconds straight.
One Hour Later
Jihoon survived.
But two of his men didnāt.
Seokmin found him coughing blood in the backseat, clothes torn, vision blurred.
Y/N ran out barefoot, still in a silk nightgown.
āJihoon!ā she cried.
Seokmin didnāt even look at her. He carried Jihoon inside, barking orders, ripping off his own jacket to stop the bleeding.
Y/N stood frozen. Her hands shook at her sides.
She wanted to help. But no one noticed her. Again.
Y/N sat in the hallway alone. Knees to chest. The house was quiet.
But her thoughts were screaming.
She was nothing here. A shadow. A pet.
She had nothing to offer but quiet concern.
Why did he even bring me here?
She hadnāt seen Seokmin since the incident.
But she didnāt know he was in the basement, interrogating the last traitor who let the leak happen. And by āinterrogating,ā he meant turning the manās memories into nightmares.
Seokmin POV
He came upstairs hours later, clothes stained, fingers numb.
But he didnāt go to his room.
He walked straight to the hallway. Something told him to.
Thatās when he saw her.
On the floor. Sleeping against the wall like a stranger in her own house.
Something inside him snapped.
āY/N.ā
She woke with a gasp.
āIām sorry I didnāt know where elseā
āDonāt say that,ā he whispered. āYou belong in my bed. You belong home.ā
Tears sprang to her eyes. āThen show me, Seokmin. I feel like a ghost.ā
His jaw clenched.
He hated this. Hated how fragile she looked. Hated that his war made her feel invisible.
He walked over, crouched, pressed his forehead to hers.
āI donāt say it enough. But youāre the only part of this world that doesnāt make me feel like a monster.ā
And she broke.
Tears flooded her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms.
And for the first time in years, Seokmin let himself cry too.
Meanwhile In A Hidden Cellar, South Gwangju
Park Yongwoo poured himself tea. Smiling.
āSheās unraveling,ā he muttered. āAnd heās getting sloppy.ā
Behind him, someone emerged from the shadows.
A familiar voice.
āSheās starting to remember who she was before him.ā
Yongwoo raised an eyebrow.
āPerfect,ā he said. āLetās use that, shall we?ā
Seokminās bedroom ā 3:17 a.m.
The room was dark, save for the faint hum of the city below.
Y/N lay curled under the sheets, her breathing soft, but restless. Sleep hadnāt come easy. Not since the explosion. Not since Jihoon nearly died.
And not since Seokmin held her like she was the only thread keeping him from shattering.
He sat at the edge of the bed now, shirt off, head bowed, bruised knuckles resting on his thighs.
He glanced back.
She stirred, murmured his name in her sleep like a whisper meant only for the shadows.
āSeokmin...ā
That sound his name from her lips anchored him.
Slowly, carefully, he lay beside her.
At first, he didnāt touch her.
But then she turned in her sleep, unconsciously reaching for him, hand grazing his chest like muscle memory.
And this time, he didnāt freeze.
He took her hand, kissed her knuckles, and pressed it to his heart.
āYouāre not invisible,ā he whispered, voice hoarse and low. āYouāre the only thing I see.ā
Silence answered back. But it was soft. Warm. Not hollow.
Then
Her arms wrapped around his waist. Eyes still closed, tear marks still on her cheeks.
She held him tightly. Desperately.
Like she knew heād break the moment she let go.
And so, neither of them did.
Not that night.
Not until the sun began to rise, spilling gold over a house full of secrets, scars...
ā¦and love that was just starting to bloom between the cracks.
