𝓮𝓋𝒶

“No.”

Y/N frowned. “I didn’t even ask anything.”

“You were about to. Whenever you begin with so in that particular tone, I lose at least twenty minutes of my day.”

Y/N stared at the side of his face. “That’s rude.” She quickened her pace to remain beside him. “What festival is everyone excited about?” Seonghwa continued walking. “Seonghwa. I heard two guards talking about it.” His eyes closed briefly. “They said it’s happening next week. And apparently it’s huge.” Seonghwa finally sighed. “Of course they were talking about it.” Y/N smiled triumphantly. “So there is a festival.” Seonghwa sighed. “Yes.” Y/N grinned. “What kind?” Seonghwa hesitated because he was not having this conversation. “The kind you should ask your husband about.” Her grin turned into a smirk. “That means it’s interesting.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “That means I have work to do.” Y/N caught his sleeve and Seonghwa stopped, looking first at her fingers and then slowly at her face. “What?”

“You’re the person who knows everything.”

“That is unfortunately becoming my reputation.”

“So tell me.”

Seonghwa glanced down the corridor before conceding defeat. “It’s called the Festival of Ashes. Demons have held it once a year for centuries.” Y/N’s eyebrows rose. “Here?” He shook his head like the thought was ridiculous. “Earth.” That caught her attention immediately. “Demons throw a festival on Earth?” Seonghwa gave her a pointed look. “Demons do many things on Earth that humans remain blissfully unaware of.” Y/N wanted to know. Since this is her life now, she wanted to see how those around her had fun. “Where?” Seonghwa resumed walking and Y/N immediately fell into step beside him. “It changes. Different city every year. The location is selected several months beforehand and protected by enough glamour that humans who stumble too close simply convince themselves there’s nothing there.”

“So it’s basically a giant demon party.”

“That is a painfully simplistic description. It has traditions. Ceremonies. Old rites. Drinking. Gambling. Held fights.” Y/N’s grin widened as Seonghwa kept describing everything and couldn’t help herself. “Sex?” Seonghwa gave her a long look. “It’s demons. The festival traditionally celebrates freedom from infernal law while topside. Within reason,” he added quickly. “Which means it tends to become…… chaotic.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Does Yunho go?” Seonghwa answered far too quickly without thinking. “The Prince never misses it.” Y/N’s eyebrows climbed while Seonghwa seemed unaware of the trap he had just stepped into. “Seeing as it’s a chaotic mess and the Prince loves sex…” He stopped walking and Y/N stopped too. Very slowly, Seonghwa turned his head. Y/N stared at him and Seonghwa stared right back looking slightly nervous for the first time since she met him. “You didn’t hear that.” Her eyes narrowed. “I heard every syllable.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Seonghwa.”

“I misspoke.”

“You said my husband never misses a giant lawless demon festival because he loves sex.” She looked amused as Seonghwa looked actually looked nervous. “I did not say because.” Y/N stepped closer, pointing one finger at his chest. “You and I are gonna have to have a talk about my husband.” Seonghwa stared at her for approximately one minute before turning on his heel. “I have suddenly remembered an urgent meeting.”

“Seonghwa.” He started walking faster and Y/N hurried after him, laughing now. “You cannot drop something like that and walk away from me.” She was laughing when they rounded the next corner into the enormous central gallery. That was why she didn’t notice anything wrong. But Yunho did. He had just entered through the towering doors at the opposite end of the gallery, returning from a meeting elsewhere in Pandaemonium. His gaze found Y/N, the way it always seemed to now. She was walking beside Seonghwa, talking animatedly with her hands while Seonghwa appeared determined to escape whatever interrogation she had subjected him to. Yunho smiled. Then he heard it. A crack. Tiny and sharp. Metal splitting beneath impossible weight and his smile vanished as his head snapped upward just as the enormous chandelier suspended above the gallery shifted. One chain had broken. Then another. “Y/N!” She turned at the sound of her name right as the final chain snapped. Everything happened at once. The chandelier dropped. It was enormous, several thousand pounds of black iron and infernal crystal plummeting from the vaulted ceiling directly toward her. Y/N barely had time to look up but Seonghwa did. His folders hit the floor before he slammed both hands into Y/N and shoved. She flew sideways with a startled cry, hitting the polished stone and sliding several feet away as the chandelier struck Seonghwa. The impact shook the entire gallery as crystal exploded and iron screamed against stone. Guards shouted as enormous shards scattered across the floor and black flames burst from shattered lamps.

For half a second, Y/N couldn’t understand what she was looking at. Then she saw Seonghwa’s hand beneath the twisted iron. “Seonghwa!” Flashbacks. They hit her quickly. Watching Tiffany die…. she scrambled upright. “Y/N!” Yunho reached her before she could get close to the wreckage. His hands grabbed her shoulders so abruptly that she gasped. “Are you hurt?”

“What?”

“Are you hurt?”

His eyes raced over her. Face. Neck. Arms. Torso. He turned her slightly, searching for blood. “Yunho, Seonghwa…”

“Are. You. Hurt?”

“No!” The answer ripped out of her and Yunho froze. No blood. No obvious injury. Alive. She was alive. Y/N grabbed his wrist. “Seonghwa is under there!” That finally broke through and Yunho looked toward the wreckage. Guards were already surrounding it. “Lift!” Six of them grabbed the twisted frame but they couldn’t get it. Yunho released Y/N reluctantly and crossed the distance in several strides, black eyes appearing as he shoved two guards aside and seized one of the enormous iron supports himself. “Move it!” Infernal power rippled through his arms and the guards heaved with him. Metal groaned as the chandelier lifted. Another guard dropped to his knees and dragged Seonghwa from beneath it. Y/N rushed forward the instant he was clear. “Seonghwa!” He looked terrible. Blood streaked one side of his face. His shoulder sat at an angle no shoulder had any business sitting at, and several pieces of crystal had torn through his clothes. But his eyes opened. “Princess…” Y/N dropped beside him. “Don’t move.” Seonghwa coughed, grimaced and somehow still managed to look annoyed. “Wasn’t planning on it.” Her breath left her in something between a sob and a laugh. “You asshole.”

“I save your life and that’s my thanks?” Y/N stared at him. Then she laughed shakily. Because he was already healing. She could see it. The gash along his temple was closing, torn flesh slowly knitting itself back together. With a deeply unpleasant crack, his shoulder began pulling itself back into place as Seonghwa squeezed his eyes shut. “I hate this part.” Y/N covered her mouth. “You’re okay?”

“I will be.”

“You just got crushed by a chandelier.”

“I’ve had worse Tuesdays.” Behind her, Yunho wasn’t laughing. He hadn’t moved. His eyes were fixed on the spot where Y/N had been standing. Not Seonghwa. Not the chandelier. The floor. That exact patch of black marble. He could see it. He didn’t want to. But his mind supplied the image anyway. Y/N beneath several thousand pounds of iron. Y/N’s body where Seonghwa’s had been. Except she wouldn’t have opened her eyes. She wouldn’t be making sarcastic comments while her bones repaired themselves. She wouldn’t heal. Because Y/N was still human. The realization wasn’t new. He had always known. She would remain human until he killed her. The Covenant had made that perfectly clear with the law a millennia ago . Only then would immortality claim her and bring her back. But knowing something and seeing how easily it could happen were entirely different things. One second. That was all it would have taken. One broken chain. One second where Seonghwa hadn’t been beside her and Yunho would have watched the thing he loves most die. Permanently.

His stomach twisted. And beneath the horror came something else. A thought. Ugly. Terrifying in its simplicity. He could end that vulnerability. Yunho’s gaze slowly moved to Y/N. She was kneeling beside Seonghwa still, scolding him for attempting to sit upright while three guards assured her he would heal completely. Alive. Warm. Human. Kill her. His entire body went rigid. Make her immortal. The Covenant had already determined what would happen. Her human life would end, and she would return incapable of aging, permanently bound to him for all eternity. Safe from something this stupid. A falling chandelier. A collapsing restaurant. A thousand tiny mortal accidents that Yunho had never needed to fear for himself. His claws slid out and he stared at them. It could be quick. She wouldn’t even have to suffer. The thought made him feel sick as he curled his fingers into his palms so violently his claws pierced his own skin. Y/N had agreed when he told her back in Greece but she hadn’t expressed when. She hadn’t said how. No. Y/N turned and the moment she saw his face, her expression changed. “Yunho?” He looked at her. His wife. Trusting him enough to have asked him weeks ago to stop hiding his demonic face from her. Trusting him enough to love the claws currently cutting into his palms. And he had just imagined using them to kill her. Yunho took a step backward. “I’m fine,” she assured him, misunderstanding his expression. “He got me out of the way.” That was exactly the problem. This time. Seonghwa had gotten her out of the way this time. Y/N stood and crossed toward him, brushing dust from her clothes. “See?” She held out her arms. “Not even a scratch.”

Yunho stared at her. Then suddenly pulled her against him making Y/N stumble into his chest as both his arms locked around her, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. “Yunho…” He buried his face against her hair. She could feel his heart hammering far too fast and her amusement disappeared. “Hey.” Yunho said nothing as Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around his waist. Across the gallery, Seonghwa had managed to sit upright. His eyes settled on Yunho over Y/N’s shoulder and unlike Y/N, he understood the expression on the Prince’s face. Fear. But there was something beneath it. Something darker. Something Seonghwa couldn’t quite identify before Yunho closed his eyes and held his wife tighter. Because the thought had already entered his mind. And now that it was there, he couldn’t force it back out. Y/N was going to die someday. That was inevitable. The only question was whether Yunho waited helplessly for Fate to choose when again….. or choose for her.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N slept beside Yunho beneath the heavy black blankets, completely unaware that he hadn’t closed his eyes once. He lay on his side facing her, one arm tucked beneath his pillow while the other rested between them. The room was dark except for the low crimson glow bleeding through the curtains and the dying embers inside the fireplace. It painted just enough light across Y/N’s face for him to see the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Her hair had fallen across the pillow in a mess. One hand rested beneath her cheek, wedding ring catching the occasional flicker of firelight. Alive. Yunho had been watching her breathe for almost an hour. Every inhale settled something inside him. Every exhale tightened it again. He couldn’t stop seeing the chandelier. The chain snapping. Y/N turning at the sound of his voice. Seonghwa throwing her out of the way. Then the impact. His mind kept replacing Seonghwa beneath the wreckage with her. Except in that version there was no irritated voice complaining about healing. No bones snapping themselves back into place. No sarcastic remark about having survived worse Tuesdays. There was only Y/N. Dead.

Yunho swallowed and stared at the pulse fluttering softly beneath the skin of her throat. She was so fucking fragile. He hated thinking that about her. Y/N wasn’t weak. He’d watched her stand before Lucifer without bowing. Watched her argue with demons centuries older than she was. Watched her stare directly into Lucian’s eyes despite knowing what he could do. She had survived Damon. But her body was human. A few thousand pounds of iron wouldn’t care how brave she was. Neither would a blade through her heart. A broken neck. Poison. Disease. Fire. One mortal body surrounded by creatures who could survive nearly anything. And Yunho could change that. The thought returned. It had followed him all evening. He could kill her. His stomach turned violently and he closed his eyes. He hated even attaching those words to her. Hated that his mind could form them. Hated more that the Covenant had made them rational.

One death. One horrible moment. Then she would come back. Immortal. Safe. His forever. Y/N shifted beside him and Yunho’s eyes immediately opened. She made a sleepy little sound before moving closer without waking, her forehead finding his chest as though her body instinctively searched for him even in sleep. That nearly broke him. Yunho carefully wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. He couldn’t do it. Not while she slept. Not without telling her. Not without her choosing when and how. But he couldn’t lie there anymore either. He waited until her breathing settled again before carefully slipping his arm from beneath her. Y/N frowned faintly at the loss of warmth, curling deeper into his pillow as Yunho quietly climbed from the bed. He stood there for another moment, staring down at her. Then he disappeared in black smoke.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Lucifer was awake. Of course he was. Yunho sometimes wondered whether his father actually slept or simply disappeared for several hours whenever he grew tired of everyone. The devil’s private chambers were considerably less theatrical than the throne room. Dark stone walls, towering shelves filled with books collected across millennia, an enormous fireplace and windows overlooking the distant crimson lights of Hell. Lucifer sat near the fire in loose black pajama pants and an open dark robe, glasses resting low on his nose as he read from an ancient book balanced across one knee. He didn’t look up when black smoke gathered near the doors. “I heard what happened today.” Yunho remained standing as Lucifer turned a page. “I also heard Seonghwa is already irritating the healers, so I assume he’s fine.”

“He is.”

“Good.” Lucifer finally looked up and one glance at his son made him close the book. Yunho looked nothing like the Crown Prince who commanded armies and collected souls. His hair was disheveled from bed. He wore nothing except dark sleep pants. And the fear and anxiety rolling off him was so strong Lucifer could practically taste it. He removed his glasses. “What is it?” Yunho stared toward the fire. “If it weren’t for Seonghwa, she’d be dead.” Lucifer said nothing. “She would’ve died right in front of me.”

“Yes.”

Yunho’s jaw tightened at the blunt answer. “I couldn’t get there.” His voice dropped. “I saw it falling and I couldn’t fucking get there.”

“But Seonghwa did.”

“This time.” Lucifer studied him. There it was. Not anger. Not the possessiveness that had made Yunho threaten half the supernatural world since his Binding. Fear. The kind Lucifer knew intimately. Yunho finally looked at him. “She’s human.”

“I know.”

“Anything can kill her.”

“I know.”

“A fucking chandelier almost did.”

“I know, son.”

Yunho turned away sharply, rubbing both hands over his face. “And everyone keeps telling me she’ll become immortal when she dies like that’s supposed to make watching it happen easier.” Lucifer’s expression shifted. And for a moment, he watched the fire. “When your mother told me she didn’t want to turn…” he began quietly, “…I wanted to die.” Yunho’s hands lowered. His father rarely spoke about his mother like this. Not without humor to soften it. Not without some carefully placed arrogance or filthy joke that allowed him to pretend the memory didn’t still have teeth. Tonight there was none. Lucifer stared into the flames. “She made her decision very early. She wanted her life to remain hers. A witch. Mortal.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “Stubborn woman.” Yunho almost smiled. “I could have changed her.” Lucifer’s gaze remained distant. “There were ways. Some easier than others. I could’ve prolonged her life. Could’ve twisted tried to twist the rules of mortality. Could’ve ignored every argument she made and convinced myself I knew better because I couldn’t bear what was coming.” He looked at Yunho. “But she said no.” The fire cracked softly between them. “So I watched her grow older.” Yunho’s throat tightened. “I watched silver appear in her hair. Watched lines form around her eyes. Watched her become tired more easily. Watched her get sick.” Lucifer’s voice softened. “And I remained exactly the same.”

For once, there was nothing kingly about him either. Just a man remembering his wife. “When she died…” Lucifer paused. “I didn’t want to keep going without her.” Yunho looked down. “Which is funny, considering I existed for an incomprehensible amount of time before she was ever created.” Lucifer gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “I had kingdoms. Power. Armies. Every indulgence creation could offer me. I watched the very first humans be created. I had existed without her perfectly well.” His expression became distant. “Until I knew her.” Yunho’s eyes burned as his father leaned back slowly. “That’s the thing no one tells you about loving someone that completely.” His gaze returned to his son. “When someone becomes your reason to wake up every day… losing them doesn’t simply make you lonely. It changes what waking up means. You don’t want to live without them.” Lucifer’s voice grew quieter. “Because it isn’t living anymore. It’s just existing.”

Yunho’s jaw trembled once before he clenched it but Lucifer saw. “I did that for a very long time.” His gaze dropped briefly toward his hands. “And even though there were centuries when I would’ve given anything to have your mother beside me again…” His eyes lifted. “I’m thankful she gave me you.” Yunho finally looked at him and Lucifer smiled faintly. “Because when she left…” His voice caught so subtly anyone who didn’t know him would have missed it. But Yunho didn’t. “I still had a reason.” Something inside Yunho cracked and he looked away. His eyes were wet but he refused to let the tears fall. Four hundred years old and suddenly he looked painfully young standing there. Not the Crown Prince of Hell. Not Lucifer’s heir. Not the demon who had threatened covens and killed an elder without lifting a hand. Just his son. Completely terrified. “I can’t lose her.” Lucifer stared at him as Yunho’s voice broke. “I can’t.” The admission sounded almost ashamed as Lucifer stood and crossed the space between them slowly until he stopped directly in front of his son.

For once, there was no teasing. No reminder that Yunho had created his own disaster by saving a woman he’d barely known. Lucifer simply placed a hand against his son’s shoulder. “I know.” Yunho’s eyes finally met his and Lucifer held them before his gaze hardened with something older. Something knowing. “Then you know what you need to do.” Yunho went still as the words hung between them. Neither needed to explain what they meant. One human death. That was all that stood between Y/N and eternity. Yunho’s eyes lowered toward his wedding ring. He could still see her sleeping in their bed. Warm. Breathing. Trusting him. His wife. His reason. And for the first time since he saved her…. eternity no longer felt like some distant consequence waiting decades away. It felt like a decision.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N woke to warmth against her neck. At first she only shifted deeper into the pillows, caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness as lips brushed slowly beneath her jaw. Another kiss followed, then another against the side of her neck, unhurried and suspiciously affectionate for someone who usually complained when she tried waking him before noon. A sleepy smile pulled at her mouth. “Morning to you too.” Yunho smiled against her. “Morning.” His voice was still rough with sleep as he kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. His glamour was already down. It usually was now when they were alone, something that had become increasingly natural. His horns curved through his messy hair, black eyes softened by sleep as one clawed hand rested carefully against her waist beneath the blankets. Y/N turned her head enough to look at him. “You’re awake before me.”

“I am.”

“That’s concerning.”

Yunho huffed a laugh against her neck. “Why?”

“Because you hate mornings.”

“I don’t hate mornings.”

“You threatened a servant last week for opening the curtains.” Y/N laughed and rolled onto her back, finally opening her eyes fully. Yunho hovered partially above her, hair falling messily over his forehead as he looked down at her. She reached up, fingertips finding one of his horns. Yunho’s eyes fluttered as she ran her hand slowly along the smooth curve. “You know,” she murmured, “I think you’re getting suspiciously comfortable looking like this around me.”

“You told me you wanted all of me.”

“I did.”

“So you’re stuck with all of me.”

Her fingers reached the tip of his horn before tracing back down. “Terrible burden.” His mouth curved. Then he caught her wrist gently and kissed the inside of it, directly over the horn branded into her skin. For one fleeting second, the smile disappeared from his face but Y/N didn’t notice. She was looking toward the ceiling, stretching lazily beneath the blankets as Yunho watched her. He had barely slept after returning from his father’s chambers. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen the chandelier again. Then Lucifer’s words. He knew exactly how easy it would be. One moment. One death. She would come back. No more standing helplessly across a palace while several thousand pounds of iron fell toward her. No more wondering whether Dante would find the one mortal weakness Yunho couldn’t protect. No more imagining disease, accidents, weapons, age. No more fear. Yunho looked into the face of the woman who trusted him enough to sleep beside his claws and knew he couldn’t make that decision this morning. Not yet. Today he wanted her alive. Today he wanted her laughing. Today he wanted something that belonged to them instead of Hell. “Get dressed.” Y/N blinked. “What?” Yunho rolled away from her and climbed out of bed as she pushed herself onto her elbows, watching him cross the room and apparently without any intention of explaining himself. “Excuse me?”

“Get dressed.”

“Why?”

Yunho glanced over his shoulder and smiled. It was effortless enough that Y/N saw nothing beneath it. She didn’t see that his chest felt painfully tight. Didn’t know he’d spent part of the night sitting across from his father admitting that the thought of losing her terrified him. Didn’t know that Yunho had lain beside her afterward watching every breath she took. Didn’t know he was beginning to think about eternity in a way he never had before. Y/N narrowed her eyes. “That smile means you’re doing something.”

“I’m always doing something.”

“Something involving me.”

“Usually.”

“Yunho.”

He laughed and grabbed a pair of pants from the chair beside the bed. “We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“Earth.”

That woke her completely. She sat upright. “Earth where?”

“Paris.”

Y/N stared at him. “Paris?”

“Yes.”

“As in France?”

Yunho paused with one leg in his pants and gave her an incredulous look. “Do you know another one?”

“There’s one in Texas.”

His face went blank and Y/N burst out laughing.

“I am not taking you to Texas.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m trying to romance you.” Her laughter stopped as Yunho finished pulling on his pants before looking toward her again. Y/N’s eyebrows rose. “You’re trying to romance me?” He smiled. “I own an apartment there. I haven’t used it in a while.” She arched a brow. “How long is a while?” Yunho considered it. “Twenty three years.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Wrong side of the family.”

Y/N grabbed a pillow and threw it at him but Yunho caught it easily, laughing. “You are ridiculous.” Yunho tossed the pillow back onto the bed and came toward her and Y/N smiled as he leaned over the mattress, planting one hand beside her hip. “So,” she murmured, “why Paris?” Something shifted in his expression. Only for a second. Because suddenly he remembered Paris centuries ago. Remembered visiting alone, surrounded by people while never particularly caring whether anyone remained beside him when the night ended. Now the idea of experiencing anything without her felt strangely hollow. He leaned down and kissed her. “I just realized…” His thumb brushed across her cheek. “I haven’t actually taken you on a date.” Y/N stared at him as his smile softened. “We’ve slept together. Gotten married. Been to Greece. Nearly started a war with a coven. You’ve met my father, unfortunately. I’ve threatened several people over you.”

“Several?”

“Fine. Many.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His thumb traced her cheek again. “But I’ve never picked you up and taken you somewhere just because I wanted to spend the day with you.” Y/N’s expression softened. “So I’m fixing that. In Paris.”

“That’s extremely dramatic for a first date.”

“I’m the Prince of Hell. I have standards.” Y/N laughed as Yunho kissed her again, stealing the sound directly from her mouth. “Wear something nice,” he murmured and she caught his chin before he could pull away. “How nice?”

“Paris nice.” He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Whatever makes you feel beautiful.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed playfully. “And what are we doing?”

“Not telling you.”

Y/N climbed from the bed and headed toward the enormous wardrobe, already muttering about what exactly constituted Paris nice as behind her, Yunho’s smile slowly disappeared and his gaze dropped toward the floor. For one terrible second he saw shattered crystal again. Blood. A body that wouldn’t heal….. his fingers curled into his palms, claws digging into his skin. The sting barely registered. Yunho stared down at the thin lines of blood beginning to gather beneath them before forcing his hands open. Behind him, Y/N was still digging through the wardrobe, pushing clothes aside with increasingly offended little noises every time she apparently decided something failed whatever standard he had invented with Paris nice. “Do I need heels?” Yunho blinked and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Heels.” Y/N peered around the wardrobe door. “Am I walking a lot?”

“Probably.”

“So no heels.”

“I can carry you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the wardrobe as Yunho laughed quietly, but the moment he turned away from her, the smile slipped again. “I need to speak with my father before we leave.” Y/N made another distracted sound from somewhere among the clothes and he looked back just as she emerged holding two dresses against herself. “Which one?” His gaze moved between them. “Left.” She stared at him. “You barely looked.”

“I looked.”

“Why that one?”

“Because I want to take it off you later.”

Y/N stared at him as Yunho’s mouth curved before he laughed, genuinely this time. “I’ll be back.” He crossed the room and kissed her before leaving, intending it to be quick. It wasn’t. His hand slipped around the back of her neck and held her there for several seconds longer than necessary, mouth lingering against hers until Y/N finally pulled back and studied him. “You okay?” The question nearly destroyed the performance. Yunho smiled. “I’m fine.” Y/N searched his face for another second before apparently accepting it. “Okay.” He kissed her forehead then left, chamber doors closing behind him. And the moment they did, Yunho’s expression collapsed. Not completely. Four centuries of learning how to control himself didn’t disappear overnight. But the lightness vanished from his eyes. His jaw tightened as he started down the long corridor, claws retracting, eyes going back to brown, because he had only dropped his glamor so Y/N couldn’t see. See the thoughts rushing back into the places he’d spent all morning trying to keep them from going.

His footsteps became heavier. He hated himself for knowing what he had to do but he couldn’t wait any longer. By the time Y/N decided when she was ready….. she could already be killed. Yunho rounded another corner, barely acknowledging the guards who bowed as he passed. “Morning.” Hongjoong was coming from the opposite direction, dressed impeccably as usual, dark hair pushed away from his face. He slowed when Yunho didn’t respond. “Morning.” Yunho started walking again and Hongjoong watched him. Then turned and followed. “Where are you going?”

“To see my father.”

Hongjoong smiled faintly, but it disappeared when Yunho kept walking. He knew Yunho well enough to recognize when something was wrong. Not every thought. Not every secret. They weren’t inseparable confidants who knew every corner of one another’s minds. But Hongjoong had spent centuries around Hell’s royal family, and anxiety looked particularly strange on Lucifer’s son. Especially anxiety Yunho was desperately trying to disguise as irritation. Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Yunho kept moving and Hongjoong kept following making Yunho sigh through his nose. “I’m taking Y/N out for a while. To Paris.” Hongjoong’s eyebrows rose. “Paris?” Yunho huffed. “Yes.” Hongjoong eyed him. “For what?” Yunho finally looked at him. “Do I require permission to take my wife somewhere?” Hongjoong studied him. “No. You also don’t usually look like you’re heading toward an execution before taking someone to Paris either.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine.” Hongjoong stopped walking and let Yunho make it several more steps before realizing he was no longer following. Something about the silence made him turn. Hongjoong stood in the middle of the corridor staring at him. Not amused anymore. Not nosy. Just watching. His gaze moved across Yunho’s face slowly, catching the exhaustion beneath his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers kept curling unconsciously against his palms. Then something clicked. Yesterday. The chandelier. Y/N. Seonghwa pushing her out the way…. Hongjoong’s expression changed. “Yunho.”

“Don’t.”

Hongjoong ignored the warning. “What happened yesterday…” Yunho’s entire body stiffened as Hongjoong took a step closer. “She didn’t die, Yunho.” The words struck exactly where he’d intended them to and Yunho’s eyes flashed black again. “I know that.” Hongjoong scoffed. “Do you?” Yunho sneered at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Hongjoong let out an incredulous laugh. “It means you’re walking around this palace looking like she did.” Yunho stared at him as Hongjoong took another cautious step closer. “She’s alive.”

“I fucking know she’s alive.”

“Then why do you look terrified?” Hongjoong’s jaw tightened. “Seonghwa got her out of the way.” Yunho finally snapped. “This time.” There. The words escaped before Yunho could stop them and Hongjoong went silent. Neither spoke for several seconds. Then Hongjoong understood. Not everything. But enough. His eyes sharpened. “Yunho… She’s still human.” Yunho’s head snapped toward him but Hongjoong didn’t move. “And now you’ve remembered exactly what that means.” Yunho suddenly reminded Hongjoong that he could look just as terrifying as his father. “Be very careful. You’re speaking about something you know nothing about.”

“I know what the Covenant does.” Hongjoong’s voice remained level. “I know she becomes immortal after her first death by your hands.” Yunho’s eyes went completely black. “And I know you. When she comes back…. when she doesn’t have any kind soul…. when she no longer feels….” Yunho’s brows furrowed, genuine confusion on his face now. Hongjoong stared at him. “What do you mean what?” Yunho shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about no longer feels?” He really had no idea. Hongjoong hesitated before explaining. “When a demon kills a human for immortality…. the soul doesn’t…. come back right… another little punishment from The Covenant.” Hongjoong shook his head. “Did your father not tell you any of this?” Yunho stared at him. And for one long second, there was nothing. No anger. No movement. Not even the faint curl of smoke that so often betrayed his temper before the rest of him did. Then his upper lip pulled back from his fangs and a snarl tore from his throat as black smoke exploded through the corridor.

“Yunho!” Hongjoong’s voice barely reached him before the Prince disappeared and the throne room erupted in darkness a heartbeat later. Black smoke slammed across the polished floor with enough force to send several nearby guards stumbling backward. Infernal flames lining the obsidian pillars bent violently toward the center of the room as Yunho stepped from the smoke. His glamour was gone completely again. Horns curved from his hair, his eyes endless black, claws already extended at his sides as he stalked forward. Every conversation stopped as Lucifer sat upon his throne speaking with Seonghwa who was already almost fully healed, and two members of the infernal council when the entire room froze. Seonghwa turned first and one look at Yunho had him straightening as Lucifer’s gaze lifted more slowly. “Son?” Yunho ignored him. “Is that why?” He didn’t stop walking and Lucifer’s expression shifted. “Is that why my mother didn’t want it?” Seonghwa’s eyes flicked toward Lucifer. The King had went perfectly still. Yunho saw it. And that tiny reaction told him everything before his father said a single fucking word. His footsteps slowed. “Is that why she said no?”

“Yunho.”

“Answer me.” The council members exchanged uneasy looks. One began to move discreetly toward the edge of the chamber, but Lucifer lifted a hand without looking away from his son. “Leave us.” No one needed telling twice. The council members bowed quickly and retreated. Guards began filing toward the doors, though Seonghwa remained where he was as Yunho kept coming, claws flexing. “BECAUSE SHE WOULDN’T EVEN BE HERSELF ANYMORE!” His voice detonated through the throne room and the chandeliers overhead trembled. Flames surged several feet into the air. Somewhere along the far wall, an ancient stained glass panel cracked straight through the center as Lucifer stood. “Lower your voice.”

“Fuck you.” Seonghwa’s eyes widened as silence crashed down over the chamber. Even Lucifer looked momentarily stunned. Yunho had challenged his father before. Argued with him. Defied him. New Orleans had produced perhaps the worst fight Seonghwa had ever witnessed between them. But this was different. This wasn’t the Crown Prince confronting his King. This was a son realizing his father had kept something from him about his mother and his wife. Lucifer descended the steps of the throne slowly. “Where did you hear this?”

“Hongjoong.”

Lucifer’s jaw tightened as Yunho laughed without humor. “Of course. That’s what you care about.”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I answered it. Now answer mine.”

Lucifer stopped at the bottom of the steps with Yunho staring at him. “When she died…” His voice shook despite everything he did to control it. “If you had killed her yourself before that happened, she would’ve come back immortal.”

“Yes.”

“And without her emotions.”

Lucifer said nothing as Yunho stepped closer. “Say it.” His father’s expression hardened. “Say it!”

“Yes.” The single word gutted him and Yunho’s nostrils flared. Seonghwa remained utterly silent several feet away as Yunho shook his head slowly. “You told me she didn’t want immortality.”

“She didn’t.”

“You told me she wanted to remain human.”

“She did.”

“You told me she wanted to live the life she was supposed to have.”

“That is also true.”

“But you left out the fucking part where becoming immortal would’ve ripped away everything that made her who she was!”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed. “The emotions can return. But there is no set amount of time.” Yunho glared at his father. “How long? A day? A month? A fucking century?” Lucifer’s jaw tightened and Yunho let out a bitter laugh. “Right.” Lucifer looked away. “When your mother and I discussed immortality, I told her everything.” A vicious little smile appeared on Yunho’s face. “How generous.”

“Do not.”

“No, please.” Yunho spread his arms. “Continue. Apparently everyone in this fucking palace knows more about what happens to my wife than I do.” Lucifer’s head snapped toward him. “Your wife has been bound to you for barely more than a month. There are laws and consequences surrounding the Covenant that predate both of us. I was not going to bury her beneath thousands of years of infernal law while she was still learning how to survive here.”

“Bullshit.”

“Watch yourself.”

“You didn’t tell me because you knew what it would do.” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as Yunho moved closer. “You knew the second I understood what immortality actually meant, I would hesitate.”

“Yes.”

The honesty caught him off guardz Yunho stared coldly at his father but Lucifer didn’t retreat from it. “Yes,” he repeated. “I knew.”

“You son of a bitch.” Seonghwa very deliberately looked at the floor as Lucifer’s nostrils flared. “You came to me last night terrified.” Yunho’s voice boomed. “I came to you because my wife almost died!”

“And I understood you better than anyone else possibly could.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t asking me about rules!” Lucifer finally shouted. “You were telling me you were afraid!” The force of his voice shook the throne room and Yunho stopped. Lucifer’s chest rose beneath his dark robes. “You came into my chambers looking exactly as I did every time your mother became sick. Every time she grew older while I remained unchanged. Every time I looked at her and remembered that someday there would be a morning when she would no longer wake beside me.” His voice dropped. “You were my son last night. Not the Crown Prince. Not a demon negotiating a Binding. My son.” Yunho’s jaw trembled. “And I spoke to you as your father.” Yunho suddenly looked defeated. “You told me I knew what I needed to do.”

“I told you that because eventually you and Y/N must decide what you’re going to do.”

“That isn’t what it sounded like.”

“Then you heard what your fear wanted to hear.” Yunho went still as his father held his gaze. “You decided that meant kill her.” The words were hideous spoken aloud and Seonghwa’s head lifted sharply. Yunho’s eyes flickered. Whatever anger had been in the King’s face changed. “You were coming here to ask me how.” Yunho said nothing. “Weren’t you?” Lucifer stared at his son, and realization slowly settled into his features. “You were going to do it.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were considering it.”

“I watched her almost fucking die!”

“I know!”

“Seonghwa had to save my wife because I couldn’t!” His voice broke as Yunho turned away sharply, dragging a clawed hand through his hair. “I was standing right there.” Seonghwa’s expression softened. “I was right fucking there.” His shoulders rose with a shaky breath. “And I wasn’t fast enough.” Lucifer watched him. “If he hadn’t moved…”

“But I did.” Yunho’s eyes snapped toward Seonghwa as Seonghwa finally stepped forward. His injuries from the chandelier had long since almost fully healed, leaving no physical evidence really of what had happened. “I moved,” he repeated quietly. “She’s alive.”

“And what about next time?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is exactly the fucking problem.” Yunho turned back toward Lucifer. His fury had begun cracking around something much worse. “But now you’re telling me the solution isn’t a solution at all.” Lucifer’s expression tightened as Yunho looked almost sick. “If I kill her, she comes back. She’ll remember me. She’ll remember us.” Yunho swallowed. “But she won’t love me.” Lucifer didn’t answer and the silence was unbearable. Yunho’s eyes glistened. “Father.” Lucifer closed his eyes briefly. “When she first returns,” he said quietly, “no.” Yunho looked like he’d been struck. His gaze dropped and for just a moment he wasn’t four hundred years old. Wasn’t the Crown Prince. Wasn’t the demon who had threatened covens and killed without blinking. He was simply terrified. Yunho turned his face away, claws slowly retracting. “And you wanted me to do that to her?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yunho.”

“I was going to fucking do it.” The confession came out almost inaudibly and Lucifer froze. So did Seonghwa. Yunho stared at his own hands. “I woke up this morning thinking I couldn’t wait anymore.” His throat worked around the words. “I thought waiting until she was ready was too dangerous. I thought…” A broken laugh escaped him. “One death. That’s what I kept telling myself. One death and she’d be safe forever.” His fingers curled. “I was coming here to ask you how to kill my wife. And then Hongjoong tells me that if I do…” Yunho finally looked at his father again. “I might save her forever and lose her anyway.” That was the cruelty of it. Yunho had spent all night terrified of Y/N dying. Now, for the first time, he understood there were things he feared even more than her death. And Y/N opening her eyes and looking straight through him was one of them.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Paris was nothing like Hell. And that was why Yunho had chosen it. By late afternoon, sunlight spilled between cream stone buildings in long ribbons of gold, catching against wrought iron balconies and rows of tall windows thrown open to the warm September air. Bicycles slipped between cars. Café tables crowded the sidewalks beneath striped awnings, filled with people lingering over tiny cups of espresso as though nobody in the city had anywhere particularly urgent to be. Somewhere nearby, a violinist was playing badly enough that Yunho suspected the man had chosen enthusiasm over talent, but Y/N had smiled when they passed him, so Yunho had dropped several euros into the open case anyway. For nearly forty minutes, they’d simply walked. No demons bowing when Y/N passed. No one calling her Princess. Here, she was simply a beautiful woman dragging her husband through Paris by the hand. And she had been doing quite a lot of dragging. “Wait.” Yunho barely had time to look toward her before Y/N abruptly changed direction. “What?”

“That.”

“What is…”

“Pastries.”

He followed her gaze toward the little shop wedged between a florist and a bookstore, its windows crowded with immaculate rows of colorful pastries beneath delicate gold lettering. Y/N’s fingers tightened around his. “Come on.” Yunho let himself be pulled. “Baby’s…” A laugh almost escaped him as she practically hauled him across the sidewalk, the skirt of her deep burgundy dress fluttering around her thighs with every hurried step. She had apparently decided Paris nice meant something that made Yunho regret suggesting they leave the apartment at all. The dress he had told her to pick fell loosely from her shoulders, soft sheer fabric gathering along the neckline before dipping low at the center of her chest, the sleeves long and flowing before gathering delicately around her wrists. The short pleated skirt moved around her legs with every step, revealing enough skin that Yunho had spent an unreasonable portion of their walk staring whenever she moved ahead of him. She looked beautiful. And alive. Yunho’s smile faltered. Alive. The word had been haunting him since they’d arrived. “Yunho.” Y/N had stopped several feet ahead, their joined hands stretched between them. “You coming?” His expression immediately softened. “I’m coming.”

“Then why are you walking like somebody’s taking you to an execution?” His stomach twisted. Of all the fucking words. Yunho forced a smirk. “Maybe I’m reconsidering spending the next several hours watching you financially terrorize Paris. I mean… you tried buying a painting of three blue lines you said looked like a fork.” Y/N’s mouth twitched. “It did.” Yunho laughed despite himself. There. The pressure in his chest loosened as Y/N smiled triumphantly as though she’d accomplished something before pulling him toward the pastry shop again. The bell above the door chimed when they entered and warm air greeted them immediately, thick with butter, vanilla, chocolate and freshly baked bread. Glass cases stretched along one wall beneath soft pendant lights, displaying rows of macarons, glossy fruit tarts, éclairs, mille feuille and pastries Yunho knew Y/N couldn’t pronounce but would inevitably insist on trying anyway. Her eyes widened. “Oh, we’re fucked.” Yunho snorted as she slowly approached the display like she’d entered a cathedral. “Look at that.”

“I’m looking.”

“No, look.”

“I am.” Yunho smiled as she moved farther down the case, still holding his hand. She hadn’t let go since they’d left the apartment. He wasn’t sure she even realized it. But he did. He felt every tiny shift of her fingers around his. Every absentminded squeeze whenever something caught her attention. Every time her thumb brushed his wedding ring. And every time, his conversation with his father returned. Yunho swallowed as Y/N stopped in front of a tray of macarons and his fingers tightened around hers. “Those. Yunho?” His gaze snapped toward her. Y/N was watching him. Her brows pulled together slightly. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Leaving.” His chest tightened as she stepped closer. “You’re standing right beside me, but then you get this look like you’re somewhere completely different.” Fuck. Yunho smiled and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I’m sorry.” Her expression remained suspicious. “For?”

“I’ve had a long morning.”

“Your father?”

“Something like that.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Did you two fight again?”

“No.”

“Yunho.”

“Baby.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s our first date.” He kissed her hand again before lowering it. “Can we have one day where my father or Hell isn’t somehow involved?” That worked. Y/N stared at him for another second before turning back toward the display. “Fine.” Yunho exhaled silently as she stepped toward the counter and he followed, but something about the exchange lodged painfully beneath his ribs. She trusted him. And less than a couple of hours ago he’d stood in the throne room admitting he’d woken that morning prepared to ask his father how to kill her. His stomach turned as Y/N pointed through the glass. “I want that one.” The employee behind the counter smiled. “The raspberry?”

“Yes.”

“And…” Yunho looked at her as she looked at the case. Her eyes moved slowly along it. “And?” She pointed again. “That.”

“The chocolate éclair?”

“Yes. And one of those.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “You’re ordering half the shop.”

“Mind your business.”

“I’m paying.”

“Exactly. Your business is payment.” The employee very carefully hid a smile as Yunho folded his arms. “Anything else, Your Highness?” Y/N turned slowly and his eyes widened. “Don’t.” She grinned. “You said it.”

“I did not mean…”

“Your Highness would also like two macarons.”

“Of course she would.”

“And coffee.”

“Obviously.”

“And…”

“Y/N.”She laughed. That laugh. Yunho stared at her. Something about it sliced straight through him. She was leaning against the glass case, burgundy sleeves slipping down her wrists, eyes bright as she tried deciding between pistachio and strawberry macarons. Entirely unaware of the war taking place inside her husband’s head. She was exactly herself. Warm. Curious. Annoying when she wanted to be. Impulsive. Funny. His. Not because the Covenant said so. Not because a brand connected their souls. But because somewhere during this impossible month, she’d looked at him and chosen him. And Yunho had nearly convinced himself he had the right to gamble with that. “Strawberry.” Y/N’s voice pulled him back. “What?” She pointed toward the macarons. “Strawberry. You look like you’re trying to solve world hunger. Pick a flavor.” Yunho stared through the glass. “Strawberry.” She grinned. “Excellent taste. See. Our marriage works perfectly.” He laughed again and this time Y/N slipped both arms around one of his, leaning against him while they waited. Yunho suddenly couldn’t breathe. His free hand covered hers where it rested around his arm making Y/N glance up. “You okay?” He looked down into her face and for one dangerous second, the truth almost came out. I was going to kill you this morning because I love you so much that losing you has made me fucking insane. Instead, Yunho leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Yeah.” Y/N smiled as he closed his eyes against her hair. No. Whatever happened next, whatever fear waited for him tomorrow, he couldn’t make that choice behind her back. Not anymore. Today, he was going to take his wife on their first date. And for the first time since the chandelier fell, Yunho allowed himself to think about something other than keeping her forever. He thought about simply having her now.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Paris seemed determined to show off for her. By the time they left the pastry shop, the afternoon had softened into that peculiar golden light that made the pale stone buildings seem warmer than they actually were. Y/N carried the little cream paper bag of pastries against her chest with one arm while her other hand remained firmly threaded through Yunho’s. She had already eaten one macaron before they made it half a block. Then another. Yunho glanced sideways at the bag. “Those were supposed to last.”

“They are lasting.”

“You’ve eaten two in four minutes.”

“There are still some left.”

“An inspiring display of restraint.”

Y/N reached into the bag and pulled out another macaron as Yunho watched her take a bite without breaking eye contact and his mouth twitched. “You’re impossible.”

“You married me.”

“I was legally compelled.”

“And yet you seem suspiciously happy about it.”

“Unfortunately, I’m obsessed with you.”

Y/N laughed and bumped her shoulder against his arm. That should have been enough to pull him out of his own head. And it almost was as they continued along the Seine, taking their time as boats drifted beneath the bridges below and tourists crowded around vendors selling books, prints and postcards from the green boxes lining the river. Y/N stopped constantly. An old photograph. A ridiculous souvenir. A street artist sketching a couple beneath an umbrella. A tiny dog wearing a blue sweater that immediately became the most important thing she’d seen in Paris. Yunho indulged every interruption. He wasn’t in any hurry. For perhaps the first time in four hundred years, Yunho wished time would move slower. “Wait.” He stopped automatically as she paused beside the stone railing overlooking the river. “What?” She didn’t answer right away.. The humor had disappeared from her expression, though she didn’t look upset. Just thoughtful as she looked out across the water for several seconds before glancing down at the pastry bag in her hand. “Thank you.” Yunho’s brows pulled together. “For the pastries?” A small smile appeared. “No.”

“Paris?”

“No.”

“Then you’re going to have to narrow it down because I’ve been exceptionally charming today.” That earned the quiet laugh he’d been hoping for, but it faded quickly. “For saving me.” Yunho went still. Of all the things she could have said today. After the morning he’d had. His fingers tightened around hers almost imperceptibly. “You already thanked me for that.” Y/N looked toward the river again. “I know. But I don’t think I really understood what I was thanking you for before.” She rested her elbows against the stone railing, the pastry bag dangling loosely from her fingers. “I mean… obviously you saved my life.” She gave a tiny shrug. “That’s pretty difficult to overlook. But you didn’t just save my life.” Something about the way she said it made his stomach drop. “Before all of this…” She gestured vaguely, encompassing Paris, Hell and perhaps her entire impossible life at once. “I struggled a lot.” His expression softened. “I know.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You saw my apartment, but I don’t think you really know.” The tiny apartment where he’d first followed her home. The furniture that had seen better years. The kitchen with barely enough counter space for one person. The little collection of things that had belonged to her grandmother. The photograph he’d later made sure was packed with everything else when he’d gone back for her belongings. At the time, Yunho hadn’t thought much about the money behind any of it. He’d simply thought it was hers. “I wasn’t like Tiffany,” Y/N continued. “Her family had money. Her dad was a lawyer. If something happened, she always had somebody she could call.” She looked down at the bag between her hands. “I didn’t.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. “After my grandma died…” She hesitated. “What little money she left me was pretty much gone within six months. Rent. Bills. Groceries. Funeral expenses.” She gave a humorless little laugh. “Turns out dying is really expensive.”

“Baby…”

“I’m okay.” She looked at him and gave him a small smile. And she was. That was almost what made this harder. She wasn’t breaking apart. She wasn’t asking him to rescue her from the memory. She was simply telling him something she’d apparently carried alone. “I was living paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes not even that.” She picked absently at the folded edge of the pastry bag. “There were weeks where I’d check my bank account before buying groceries and have to decide what could wait until payday. I was behind on rent twice. I’d go to work. Come home. Sleep. Go back to work.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Sometimes I’d go out with Tiffany. Sometimes she’d drag me somewhere because she said I was becoming depressing.” A breeze swept along the river and lifted strands of her hair across her face. Yunho reached over, gently tucking them behind her ear. Y/N leaned into his touch for barely a second before she said, very quietly, “Sometimes I wondered if I wanted to keep…” She stopped and Yunho’s hand froze beside her face. Her brows drew together as though she’d surprised herself more than him. “I…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud.” Yunho couldn’t move as something cold opened inside his chest. Not anger. Not even the panic he’d felt beneath the chandelier. Something deeper. Because suddenly the life he’d saved looked different. He’d known she was lonely. He’d known she’d lost her grandmother and that Tiffany had been the closest thing she’d had left. He hadn’t known this. Y/N finally looked at him and the expression on his face made her straighten. “Yunho.”

“How far?” His voice was so quiet she nearly didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“How far did that thought go?”

Y/N understood and shook her head. “Not… far.” His jaw tightened again. “Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.” She turned toward him. “I never made plans. I never did anything. I just…” She struggled with the words. “There were nights after Grandma died when everything felt so fucking heavy. And I’d be lying there thinking about rent and work and how empty the apartment felt and…” She exhaled. “Sometimes I wondered what exactly I was working so hard to keep doing.” Yunho stared at her as Y/N’s voice softened. “I didn’t necessarily want to die.” Something in him cracked anyway. “I just didn’t know if I wanted my life.” His eyes closed. Yesterday, he’d watched a chandelier almost kill her. This morning, he’d contemplated killing her himself. And now she was standing beside the Seine telling him that once, before she knew demons existed, before Hell, before him, there had been nights when simply continuing had felt exhausting. Yunho opened his eyes and stared at her. Burgundy dress moving softly in the breeze. Pastry crumbs on one finger. Wedding ring catching the Paris sunlight. “Come here.” Y/N barely had time to put the pastry bag safely against the railing before Yunho pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she let out a tiny startled breath. “Yunho…” He buried his face against her hair and Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m okay.”

“I know.” His voice sounded rough making her pull back enough to look at him. “I’m not telling you because I feel that way now.”

“I know, baby.” Her expression softened as Yunho cupped her face between both hands. “I’m just…” She looked almost embarrassed now. “I’m trying to say thank you.”

“You never have to thank me for saving you.”

“But I want to.” His throat tightened as she covered one of his hands with hers. “Because my life is completely insane now.” A small laugh escaped her. “My father in law is literally Satan.” Yunho’s mouth twitched. “My husband has horns.”

“Very attractive horns.”

“Debatable.”

“Cruel.” She smiled. “I live in Hell. Witches hate me. Demons keep trying to kill me. Your terrifyingly old acquaintances apparently think flirting with your wife is a hobby.”

“Lucian is going to die eventually.”

“See? Insane.” Yunho almost laughed as her thumb brushed his knuckles. “But I’m happy.” That silenced him. “Really happy.” Her eyes held his. “And I don’t think I realized until recently that I hadn’t been happy for a long time.” Yunho’s eyes burned. “So when I thank you for saving my life…” Her fingers tightened around his. “I don’t just mean you stopped me from dying.” She glanced around Paris. At the river. At the pastry shop behind them. At their hands joined between them. “You gave me a life I actually want to keep.” That broke him. He kissed her, holding her face with trembling tenderness beneath the afternoon sun, because there was absolutely nothing he could say that wouldn’t betray the storm ripping through him. Y/N had no idea. He gave her a life she wants to keep. Her life. Hers. Not his to preserve by destroying it first. When Yunho finally pulled away, his forehead rested against hers and Y/N smiled. “You okay?” He let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.” This time the lie tasted terrible. But Yunho kissed her forehead and pulled her against his chest again. Y/N had spent too much of her life simply enduring it and Yunho refused to make eternity something else she merely had to survive.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By the time the sun began sinking behind Paris, the city had changed colors. Gold spilled across the Seine, catching against windows and rooftops until everything seemed dipped in amber. Streetlamps blinked awake one by one along the sidewalks while the sky faded from pale blue into streaks of peach and lavender. Y/N had somehow managed to make the bag of pastries last another two hours, though Yunho had caught her reaching inside it every time she thought he wasn’t looking. They’d spent most of the afternoon wandering without any real destination. Y/N had dragged him into two shops, stopped to watch a street performer near the river, bought something small for Hongjoong and Seonghwa solely because she claimed they deserved compensation for babysitting her and pushing her out of the way, and forced Yunho to take several pictures of her before complaining that someone four hundred years old should’ve developed better photography skills by now. “I was born before cameras.”

“That excuse has an expiration date.”

“I make deals for human souls. I don’t take Instagram pictures.”

“You do now.”

Apparently marriage came with new royal responsibilities. Now Yunho led her down a quieter street just as the last edge of sunlight disappeared between the buildings, his fingers loosely intertwined with hers. Y/N glanced around curiously as they approached an elegant stone building with enormous windows glowing warmly from inside. There was no flashing sign outside. No crowd pressed around the entrance. Just two attendants standing beneath a dark awning and a small gold plaque beside the door. Y/N slowed. “This looks expensive.” Yunho glanced at her. “Everything looks expensive to you.” She stopped walking entirely and he made it another step before her hand pulled him backward. “Excuse me?” She laughed and he bit his lip. “That sounded significantly worse out loud. I’m stopping.”

“Smart.”

Yunho fought a smile as he pulled her closer by their joined hands. “What I meant was you don’t have to look at prices anymore.”

“I absolutely look at prices.”

“And then you buy expensive candle holders.”

“That happened once.”

“They were ugly.”

“You said you liked them.”

“I love you. I lied.”

Y/N gasped. “You asshole.” She smacked his arm with the now mostly empty pastry bag and Yunho laughed, catching her wrist before she could do it again. “Come on.” She pouted. “I’m telling your father you insulted my candle holders.” Yunho sheugged. “He already insulted them.” She huffed. “This entire family has no taste.”

“You married into it.”

“I was legally compelled.”

Yunho stopped as Y/N grinned. “You’ve been waiting all day to use that against me.” She pushed herself up, kissing him. “Absolutely.” His laughter followed them through the doors. The restaurant inside was beautiful without being gaudy. Dark wood and cream walls softened beneath low golden lighting while enormous windows overlooked the river in the distance. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, small enough not to dominate the room but bright enough to catch against polished glasses and silverware. White linen covered each table and candles flickered inside delicate glass holders while soft piano music drifted from somewhere near the back. The entire place smelled faintly of butter, herbs, wine and freshly baked bread. Y/N looked around as the host approached.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Yunho.”

Y/N immediately turned toward her husband but Yunho ignored her.

“Your table is ready.”

“Thank you.”

The host led them through the restaurant and Y/N leaned closer. “Of course they know you.”

“I made the reservation.”

“That man looked at you like you’ve been coming here since Napoleon.”

“I haven’t.”

She narrowed her eyes and Yunho sighed. “The restaurant isn’t that old.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

He laughed again as they were taken to a table near the windows, slightly separated from the rest of the dining room with a beautiful view across the glowing city. Yunho pulled Y/N’s chair out before taking the seat opposite her. A server arrived with menus and spoke briefly with Yunho in French. Y/N watched him. Not the server. Her husband. Yunho answered just as easily, accent effortless, asking something she couldn’t follow before thanking the man as he stepped away. Y/N continued staring. “How many languages do you speak?” He paused, thoroughly thinking it over. “I don’t know.” She gave him an incredulous look. “How do you not know?” He shrugged. “I stopped counting.” She lowered her menu. “That’s obnoxious.” They both laughed and Yunho found himself watching her over the top of his own menu. This was what he’d wanted. Not covens. Not ancient laws. Not bloodlines or immortality or the Covenant. Not his father sitting across from him explaining death as though it were simply another problem to solve. Her. Laughing at him across a table in Paris. His chest tightened, but this time Yunho refused to follow the thought any further. Y/N lowered the menu slightly. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m on a date.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“My date is beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes, though the smile immediately betrayed her. “Your date is your wife.”

“My wife is beautiful.”

“Better.” The server returned and Yunho ordered wine for the table before Y/N pointed toward something on the menu. “I want that.” Yunho glanced over. “You know what it is?”

“No.”

He blinked. “Then why do you want it?”

“The description sounds good.”

“It’s in French.”

“The words look good.”

Yunho leaned across the table and pointed farther down her menu. “Get this.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Trust me. It’s beef.”

Y/N looked at him for another second before closing the menu. “Fine.” Yunho smiled victoriously and ordered for both of them when the server returned, adding several things Y/N was reasonably certain she hadn’t agreed to. Yunho watched as the server poured a small amount of wine into his glass for approval. He tasted it, nodded, and Y/N waited until the man filled both glasses and disappeared before leaning forward. “Okay. Teach me.” His brows rose. “Wine?” She picked up her glass exactly the way she’d seen him do it. ““Fancy wine. I’ve had plenty of ten dollar wine.” She sniffed the glass dramatically and Yunho bit the inside of his cheek as she narrowed her eyes before taking a sip. Yunho waited as she considered it carefully before shrugging. “It tastes like wine.” He burst out laughing and Y/N smiled behind her glass before sitting it down. And when Yunho reached across the candlelit table and turned his palm upward, Y/N slipped her hand into his without even thinking, his fingers closed around hers. Y/N glanced down before smiling. “You know we’re doing this completely backward.” Yunho lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I noticed.”

“Sex. Marriage. Falling in love. First date.”

“Efficient.”

“Unhinged.”

She laughed. “What comes next?” Yunho’s smile softened as he looked at her across the candlelight. For once, he didn’t think about immortality. He didn’t think about death. He simply rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring. “Whatever we want.” Dinner stretched well past the hour either of them had intended. By the time they stepped back outside, Paris had surrendered completely to night. The last traces of sunset were gone, replaced by a deep blue black sky and thousands of lights spilling from windows, restaurants and streetlamps. The air had cooled enough that Y/N instinctively moved closer to Yunho as they walked, slipping her arm through his while the city hummed around them. She was comfortably full, pleasantly warm from the wine and still thinking about the dessert Yunho had insisted they share even after ordering enough food to feed considerably more than two people.

Y/N glanced up at him. “Where are we going?” Yunho kept walking. “Somewhere.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You know, for someone who supposedly planned this date because he wanted to romance me, you’re being very annoying.” Yunho laughed, squeezing her hand where it rested against his arm. “You love that about me.” She snorted. “Unfortunately.” Y/N smiled and settled against him again, allowing Yunho to guide her around another corner. Then he stopped. Y/N took another step before their joined hands pulled her gently backward. “What?” Yunho didn’t answer. He simply gave her a pointed look and slowly, his gaze moved upward and Y/N followed it. The Eiffel Tower rose above the city in front of them, illuminated entirely in gold against the dark Parisian sky. The structure she’d seen thousands of times in photographs, movies and postcards was entirely different standing beneath it. Enormous. Glittering. Almost unreal against the night sky, every illuminated beam cutting through the darkness while people moved through the gardens below like tiny shadows. Y/N’s mouth slowly fell open as Yunho watched her. “Holy shit.”

His smile widened as she looked at him. Then back at the tower.Then him again. “You…” Yunho raised an eyebrow. “You think I brought you to Paris…” He gestured toward the monument looming above them. “…and wasn’t going to bring you here?” His arm suddenly wrapped firmly around her waist. Y/N blinked. “What are you…” Black smoke erupted around them. “Yunho!” Paris vanished and her stomach dropped violently as space folded around them, the sensation lasting less than a heartbeat before cold wind slammed into her bare legs. She grabbed the front of Yunho’s shirt, eyes squeezing shut as his arms immediately tightened around her. Y/N opened her eyes, prepared to kill him and forgot how. Paris stretched beneath them. All of it. They stood impossibly high above the city, tucked away near the uppermost reaches of the Eiffel Tower where no tourist should have been standing. The Seine curved through the darkness like black silk threaded with reflected gold. Bridges glowed below them. Streets stretched outward in brilliant veins, headlights moving through them like tiny sparks. The Arc de Triomphe stood illuminated in the distance, avenues radiating outward from it, while rooftops disappeared toward the horizon beneath the night sky. Y/N slowly released Yunho’s jacket. “Oh my God.” Yunho glanced upward. “Again, wrong side.”

She slapped his chest without looking at him, stepping closer to the edge before immediately thinking better of it when another gust of wind swept around them. Yunho’s hand found her waist before she could even react. “Careful.” She turned in his arms and looked back over Paris letting Yunho settle behind her, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other rested along the railing beside her. His body blocked most of the wind from her back as she leaned into him naturally, fingers curling around the arm resting across her stomach. “A month ago I was bartending.” Yunho smiled against her hair. “I remember.” Y/N tilted her head back. “How many women have you brought up here?” Yunho nearly choked as she turned in his arms. “Answer carefully.” She teased as his eyebrows shot upward. “Where did that come from?” Before Y/N could answer, another voice drifted through the night. “Yeah, Yunho.” A slow clap followed, each strike of palm against palm carrying strangely well through the wind. “How many women have you brought up here?” Every trace of amusement vanished from Yunho’s face. He turned so quickly Y/N barely registered the movement before he had stepped in front of her, his body becoming a wall between her and the man emerging from the shadows of the tower. Damon. Y/N’s stomach dropped. He looked almost offensively relaxed, dark coat hanging open, hands coming together in one final mocking clap before dropping to his sides. A grin spread across his face as though he had stumbled across two old friends instead of appearing hundreds of feet above Paris in the middle of their date. Yunho’s hand moved behind him until it found Y/N’s hip, pushing her farther behind his back. “What are you doing here?” Damon glanced around. “Sightseeing.”

“Leave.”

“That’s not very welcoming.”

“I won’t say it twice.”

Damon laughed quietly. “There’s that royal entitlement.” Yunho’s eyes were already bleeding black. He could feel Y/N clutching the back of his shirt. Feel her heartbeat accelerating through the Binding. His own power gathered instinctively beneath his skin, black smoke beginning to curl around his boots. His arm started to circle her waist. Then something sharp struck the side of his neck. Yunho flinched and his hand flew upward. “What…” Fire exploded through his veins. Not infernal fire. Something worse. Something wrong. His knees buckled. “Yunho!” He hit the metal platform hard enough to rattle it beneath him, one hand catching his weight as agony ripped down his spine. His vision flashed white. Every muscle in his body seized as whatever had entered his bloodstream spread with terrifying speed. “Yunho!” Y/N dropped toward him, but an arm hooked violently around her waist from behind and ripped her backward. She screamed. “Let me go!” Yunho forced his head up. Dante. The demon had appeared without Yunho sensing him at all. Dante locked Y/N against his chest as she immediately began fighting, driving her elbow backward and twisting in his grip. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

“Y/N…” Yunho tried to stand but his arm collapsed beneath him. The black smoke he’d summoned flickered and died and panic punched through the pain. No. His magic. His powers. He reached for it again and found almost nothing. Only a distant ember where an inferno should have been as Damon approached slowly. Yunho’s gaze dropped. Something glittered against the metal beside his hand. A needle. Damon crouched in front of him. “Painful, isn’t it?” Yunho’s breathing came raggedly through clenched teeth. “What…” His voice broke. “What did you do?” Damon’s grin widened. “Sulfur from Purgatory.” Genuine fear entered Yunho’s eyes and Damon saw it, savoring in it. “Pumping through your veins as we speak.” He tilted his head, studying Yunho’s trembling hand. “Remarkable substance. Difficult to acquire. Even harder to get out.” His eyes flicked toward the dead smoke around Yunho’s boots. “Turns all that impressive infernal power into…” He clicked his tongue. “Well. This.” Yunho lunged anyway but Damon caught him by the hair and slammed him back down. Y/N screamed his name. “Stop!” Damon ignored her. “You know…” His fingers tightened in Yunho’s hair, wrenching his head upward. “You humiliated me at her little party.” Yunho’s black eyes flickered, struggling to remain changed. “The audacity.” Damon shook his head. “I mean, first you take her from me.”

“You never…” Yunho forced through clenched teeth. “…had her.” Damon’s smile vanished and he jerked Yunho’s head farther back. “Then you humiliate me in front of half of Hell.”

“Go fuck yourself!” Y/N snapped. Damon looked over. Y/N was still struggling against Dante, hair whipping across her face in the wind as she dug her nails into the arm locked around her. “I told you,” he said softly. “You’re mine.” Y/N stopped struggling long enough to glare directly at him. “And I told you to go fuck yourself.” Even Dante laughed at that and Damon’s jaw tightened as he slowly looked back at Yunho. “I think it’s time…” He rose slowly. “…we all get what we want.” Yunho’s stomach twisted. “Dante gets his revenge.” Dante’s grip tightened around Y/N. “I get her back. And you…” Damon stared at Yunho. “You get exactly what you’ve been so terrified of losing.” Yunho went still as Damon smiled. “You get to watch her live for eternity.” The blood drained from Yunho’s face. “No.” Y/N’s struggling faltered and Damon noticed. “So he did tell you.” Yunho tried to push himself upright again. “Don’t.” Damon’s gaze moved to Y/N. “He told you how this works, right?”

“Shut up.”

“How your husband has to kill you?”

Y/N glared at him, breathing hard. “Yes.” There was fear in her eyes now, but no accusation. “We talked about it,” she said. Damon’s expression flickered as Y/N swallowed. “I agreed.”

“Baby…”

“Just not now.” Something about those three words tore Yunho apart. Because that had been the point. Her choice. Her time. Dante suddenly chuckled behind her. “Well…” His voice curled unpleasantly beside her ear. “Isn’t that romantic.” Y/N stiffened as Dante looked pleased with himself. “But did he tell you the rest?” Yunho’s blood turned to ice. “Dante.” Y/N looked at him. And Yunho knew instantly from her expression that she heard it. The fear in his voice and Dante grinned. “Did he tell you what happens when you come back?” Y/N stared at Yunho. “Whenever a demon turns a human immortal, the Covenant collects its consequences just like they do when we intervene with fate.” His eyes settled cruelly on Yunho. “You come back immortal, Princess.”

“Stop.”

“But you don’t exactly come back…”

“Dante!”

“…loving him anymore.”

Y/N froze and the world seemed to empty around her. Even the wind disappeared. Her eyes never left Yunho’s. “What?” Yunho’s face crumpled. “Y/N…”

“You knew?”

“Since this morning.” That somehow made it worse. Not because he’d hidden it for weeks. But because suddenly she understood him. The staring. The moments he’d disappeared inside his own head. The way he’d held her beside the Seine after she’d told him she finally had a life she wanted. Damon glanced between them with mild impatience. “Touching. Bring her here.” Dante moved and Y/N immediately fought him. “No! Get the fuck off me!”

“Dante, don’t!” Yunho dragged himself forward but his arms shook violently beneath him as Dante hauled Y/N across the platform and Damon caught her when she kicked backward, wrapping both arms around her as she screamed. “YUNHO!” Something inside him shattered ac forced himself upright. One knee. Then the other and his legs nearly collapsed again but Dante was suddenly there, hand closing around the back of Yunho’s neck. “Get his hands,” Damon ordered and Yunho understood. And terror unlike anything he’d ever experienced consumed him. “No.” Dante dragged him forward. “No.” Yunho fought. He fought with everything left inside him, but Purgatory burned through his blood and his body betrayed every command he gave it. “NO!” Dante seized both his wrists and Y/N too realized what they were doing. No…” Damon forced her down onto her knees in front of Yunho. “Don’t!” Yunho’s voice cracked. “Damon, don’t fucking do this!” Damon smiled. “Consequences, Your Highness.” Yunho thrashed against Dante. “You think because you’re the Devil’s son that you don’t have any.” Damon tightened his hold around Y/N. “You take whatever you want. Kill whoever you want. Humiliate whoever you want.”

Yunho’s hands were forced forward and Y/N jerked away. “Don’t touch me!” Dante drove Yunho down, trembling hands reaching her shoulders. “No.” Yunho sobbed the word now. “Please.” Dante forced them higher toward her throat. Yunho curled his fingers desperately inward, refusing to touch her. “Please…” Damon watched him almost fascinated. The Crown Prince of Hell. Reduced to begging. Yunho’s claws dug into his own palms as he fought to keep his hands away. “Damon.” His voice shattered. “Anything else. Kill me. Send me to purgatory, I DON’T CARE!” Y/N turned her head as far as Damon’s grip allowed. “Yunho…”

“Anything.” Tears spilled freely down Yunho’s face now. “You want me? Take me. You want Hell? I’ll give you whatever you fucking want. Just don’t make me…” Dante forced Yunho’s hands around her throat and Yunho screamed. As soon as his fingers touched her skin the binding erupted. Both brands burned white hot as Y/N gasped. “No!” Yunho tried ripping his hands away, but Dante’s were locked over his, ancient strength crushing down on every finger as the sulfur of purgatory kept him weak. Damon crouched beside Y/N, voice softened grotesquely. “Don’t worry, baby.” She glared at him through tears. “You won’t even remember what it feels like to love him.”

“Fuck you.”

Damon smiled then nodded toward Dante and Yunho felt the pressure increase. “No.” His hands tightened against his will. “NO!” Y/N couldn’t breathe. Her hands flew to his wrists. Yunho stared at them. Her wedding ring. His hands. Her throat he had only been kissing that morning. “No, no, no…” Her eyes found his and everything else vanished. Damon. Dante. Paris. The lights. The tower. There was only Yunho. Y/N’s terrified eyes softened. And somehow that destroyed him more than fear would have. She stopped clawing at his wrists and Yunho shook his head violently. “Don’t.” Her lips moved but no sound came at first. She tried again. “I…”

“Baby, don’t.”

Her eyes filled. “I love…”

“Y/N.”

“…you.” Dante twisted. The sound was small. Horribly small and Y/N went limp. Yunho screamed. It ripped out of him so violently that the lights surrounding them flickered. “NO!” Damon released her, letting her body collapse against the metal. “Y/N!” Dante let Yunho go. He hit the ground beside her, pain forgotten. Everything forgotten as his hands immediately found her face. “Baby?” Nothing. “Y/N.” He pulled her against him, her head falling limply against his arm. “No.” Yunho pressed trembling fingers against her neck. “No, no, no, no…… Wake up.” His forehead dropped against hers. “Please.” Behind him, Damon slowly stood and Dante stepped backward. Neither mattered anymore as Yunho gathered Y/N against his chest, rocking her once as though his body hadn’t yet understood what his hands had been forced to do. The Binding burned. Hotter. Brighter. He could once again feel the covenant punishing him. Felt death claim her. Felt something ancient begin dragging her back. And suddenly Hongjoong’s words became more terrifying than death itself. She won’t come back right.

Yunho clutched her tighter. “No.” His voice was barely human anymore. “Give her back.” Tears streaked down his face as his eyes lifted toward nothing, toward Fate, the Covenant, whatever cruel ancient power might be listening. “DAD!” Damon and Dante both disappeared. “FATHER!” He couldn’t move himself. Couldn’t summon his power still to even get her body home. Black smoke tore across the top of the Eiffel Tower so violently that the metal beneath it groaned as Lucifer stepped through before the darkness had even finished gathering, one hand already raised as if he expected to find an attacker waiting for him. Then he saw his son and everything stopped. Yunho was on his knees against the cold metal platform, silver hair plastered to his forehead from sweat, his body shaking so violently he could barely keep himself upright. Y/N lay limp across his lap, one of his arms wrapped beneath her shoulders while the other cradled her head against his chest. Her dress spilled around them in dark folds, completely wrong against the glittering Paris skyline behind her. Her face was peaceful. Too peaceful. Her wedding ring still glinted beneath the tower lights where one hand hung uselessly against Yunho’s thigh.

Lucifer stared. And perhaps, for the first time in a millennia, the Devil simply could not understand what he was seeing. “Son…” Yunho looked up and that was when Lucifer smelled it. Sulfur. But not the familiar sulfur of Hell. This was rotten. Ancient. Corrosive. The scent clawed through the night air and immediately turned his stomach. Purgatory. His gaze snapped to Yunho’s neck. The tiny puncture wound. Then the discarded needle only feet away. “They made me do it.” Yunho’s voice was broken. Lucifer didn’t move. His mind refused to connect the pieces even though every one of them lay directly in front of him. Purgatory sulfur. Yunho powerless. Y/N dead. A Covenant consequence activated. “They…” Yunho’s voice broke completely mixed with a sob. “They made me…” His fingers tightened against Y/N’s hair as another sob tore through him. “Dad…” That finally moved Lucifer. He crossed the distance in seconds and dropped to his knees in front of them, one hand immediately gripping Yunho’s shoulder.

“Who?”

Yunho shook his head violently as though the question were too large for him to process. “I can’t…”

“Yunho.”

“I can’t move.”

Lucifer’s anger disappeared beneath alarm. His hand slid to the side of Yunho’s neck, fingers pressing carefully around the injection site. Infernal magic flickered beneath his palm and immediately recoiled making Lucifer hiss. The sulfur had spread deeply. “Fuck.” Yunho barely seemed to hear him. “I tried.” His breathing hitched. “I tried to stop them. I tried, I swear I fucking tried. They put my hands…” His gaze dropped toward Y/N and Lucifer followed it. Yunho stared at his own fingers where they rested against her shoulder. His voice became almost incomprehensible. “They put my hands around her throat.” Lucifer’s eyes closed as rage flashed so violently through him that every light surrounding the city flickered. “I couldn’t stop them.” Tears continued slipping down Yunho’s face without restraint now. “Dante had me. Damon had her. I couldn’t fucking move and they…” He swallowed a broken sound. “They made me.”

Lucifer stared at Y/N again. Damon. Dante. The names lodged inside him like blades. Later. There would be time later. Time to find them. Time to make them discover exactly how long eternity could become when the Devil personally decided someone deserved to suffer through every second of it. Right now, his son was breaking apart in front of him. Yunho’s body suddenly pitched forward and Lucifer caught him before he collapsed onto Y/N. “Easy.”

“I can’t…” Yunho gasped. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“The sulfur is suppressing your infernal blood.”

“I don’t care. I just…” Yunho looked down at Y/N again and the desperation in his face was almost unbearable. “Please.” Lucifer went still because Yunho had never begged his father for anything. Not as a child. Not after his mother died. Not during rebellions, wars or injuries that had left him healing for weeks. Now he looked at Lucifer with tears streaking his face and absolutely nothing princely left in him. “Please,” he whispered again. “I want to get her out of here.” Lucifer’s throat tightened. “Okay.”

“I don’t want…” Yunho looked around as if only now remembering where they were. Paris glittered below them, obscenely beautiful. The city where he had taken his wife on their first real date. The city where she had told him she finally had a life she wanted to keep. Now she was dead in his arms. “I just want to go home.” Lucifer’s face broke. Then he reached forward and cupped the back of Yunho’s neck. “We’re going home.” Yunho nodded shakily. “But I need you to let me take her.”

“No.” The response came instantly. Lucifer expected it. “Son…..” Yunho’s arms locked tighter around Y/N. “No.”

“You can barely stay conscious.”

“I can hold her.”

“Son.”

“I can hold my wife.”

“Then hold her.”

Yunho pulled Y/N closer, tucking her face beneath his chin as carefully as though she were sleeping instead of dead as Lucifer placed one hand against Yunho’s back and the other against Y/N’s shoulder. The moment his magic touched them, something ancient pushed back and Lucifer froze. The white light around their wrists surged. Yunho looked up in panic. “What?” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He felt it. The Covenant. It already had her. Her soul was no longer where it should be, but neither had it crossed fully beyond reach. Something had caught it between death and return, dragging it through whatever ancient mechanism would transform her. Immortal. Emotionless. Changed. Lucifer’s stomach twisted. “We need to move.” Lucifer’s power erupted. Black fire and smoke swallowed all three of them. Abs for one terrifying minute, the Eiffel Tower disappeared. Paris disappeared. Everything became heat and darkness. Then the polished black floors of Pandaemonium slammed back into existence beneath Lucifer’s boots. They materialized directly inside the royal healing chambers and chaos followed instantly. Healers jumped from their seats. Guards stationed outside rushed toward the doorway. Seonghwa appeared from the adjoining corridor so quickly he almost collided with one of them. Then he saw Y/N and his face went white. “Princess…”

“Clear the room,” Lucifer ordered and everyone moved. One healer froze. “Your Majesty…”

“NOW.” The woman bolted as Seonghwa’s gaze snapped toward Yunho. The Prince was still on his knees, still holding Y/N, barely aware of where they were. “What happened?” Lucifer looked at him. And something in Seonghwa’s expression changed when he saw the fury in the King’s eyes. “Damon and Dante.” Seonghwa went utterly still. “They poisoned Yunho with sulfur from Purgatory.” Lucifer’s voice sounded almost detached now. Too controlled. “Then they forced him to kill her.” Seonghwa looked at Y/N. “Oh, God.” Lucifer’s head turned sharply. “Do not invoke him in my palace tonight.” Seonghwa swallowed. Yunho barely heard any of it. His attention remained fixed on Y/N, thumb brushing slowly over her cheek. “Baby…” Lucifer looked back at his son. Then at the brands burning brighter around their wrists. And Lucifer knew they had very little time before Y/N opened her eyes again.

The question terrifying all of them now was what exactly would come back…..

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“Your call has been forwarded to voice mail. Please try again later…”

Disappointment fills your chest as a sigh bubbles up from the depths of them. This was ridiculous, you vehemently thought as you paced around your living room, tossing your phone haphazardly on your couch, not even caring where it landed. Everything about this was ridiculous.

For weeks, you’ve been on the hunt for a job after your last one didn’t work out the way you panned it out to be. It was a lot more frustrating than you would’ve liked it to be because it was like staring out into the void - a whole lot of nothing. It wasn’t like you didn’t try either; you’ve been quite diligent at submitting resumés literally everywhere, and when that didn’t pan out, you’d directly call the company to inquire.

If they weren’t going to call you, then hell, you were going to reach out to them. No harm done. Except that was leading you absolutely nowhere either.

“Still nothing?”

You paused your pacing, immediately turning your head to the sound of your best friend’s voice. “Jesus, I forgot you were still here,” you chuckled, combing your fingers through your hair to soothe yourself. “No, unfortunately. I’m about to lose my goddamn mind, I swear.”

San clicked his tongue softly, nodding in understanding, his eyes dropping into that rare softness you only saw when he was trying to give you your well-needed space. “It’s not your fault,” he shrugged, pushing himself off your doorway to make his way towards you. “The market’s just surprisingly oversaturated. And it’s not like you’re underqualified, you literally speak four other languages.”

“I mean it’s not like I’m completely out of options,” you said. “I do have an upcoming interview with KQ Corporation, but I’m not holding my breath for it. I applied for a random position and they’re literally the biggest company in the country so I’m trying to broaden my prospects.”

San whistled, impressed. “KQ? Goddamn. That’s tough, good luck with that one. Though I think you should be fine. Our company is, what, almost on par with KQ and you still got in.”

Your face bunched up in vexation, a grimace making its way up your lips. “As you can see that didn’t really do anything for me,” you scoffed, the bitter taste of your old job suddenly making its way in your mouth. “I got hired to speak Japanese, San, and then they started talking to me in Russian. Do I look like I know how to speak Russian?”

“Lee was a piece of rubbish shit,” he jeered, waving a dismissive hand, lazily plopping down your couch to make himself comfortable as if he always belonged there and lived here instead of you. “I’m about to honestly quit too, I hate working for the guy.”

“If you want to end up jobless like me, then be my fucking guest, I suppose,” you laughed sarcastically, not intending for it to come out snappier than it did. 

San’s brows both rose in surprise. “Woah, easy there, tiger. Didn’t mean to pee in your cereal bowl or whatever,” he frowned. There was a second of silence before he sighed. “Seriously, though, are you alright? I know the job-hunting is getting to you…”

The way he asked it made your stomach turn. Your throat clenched. You swallowed hard, but the lump stayed there, thick and immovable. “I’m fine,” you reassured when his eyes still didn’t leave yours.

It was more than the waiting game or the unanswered calls - it was waking up with nowhere to be, no reason to rush, no proof that you were needed anywhere at all. You told yourself it was temporary, but the longer it stretched on, the more it started to feel personal, like the world was moving forward, and you were stuck watching from behind a pane of glass.

San just stared at you. Finally, he rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips. “It’s a nice day outside,” he began softly, his voice contrasting the mischievous look on his face. “Why don’t you take a walk? Clear that bitch out of you or something before I get pissed at you for giving me attitude.”

And just like that, that glass cracked. Quietly, like it was set down but not quite shattered. You scoffed in disbelief, not being able to stop the laughter that bubbled up your throat. Without a word, you grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair, shoving your arms through the sleeves, movements jerky and frustrated yet determined and energised. 

“Are you going to be fine alone, though?” You asked, holding onto the door frame as you carefully put your shoes on, looking back to hear his response. “I won’t be gone for long.”

San let out a dramatic scoff like you had just insulted him. “Go before I chuck the nearest thing I can get my hands on at you,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Take your time. I don’t want to be disturbed as I raid your fridge and your wine rack.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sting behind them had dulled. You chose to hide them behind your sunglasses. Before you closed the door, you looked back at him one more time and you saw the sarcasm in his eyes melt into something warmer. San tilted his head, gaze gentler than his words. “Go,” he urged. “And bring an umbrella in case it rains.”

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started aimlessly walking. The walking trail was only a couple of minutes away by foot, but being lost in your head made it feel like it was kilometres away. 

At least the trail was pretty. It was lush and full of life; full of unexplored possibilities that brought you back to your childhood wanting to explore every rocky path and staircase that disappeared into the trees. All you knew was that you wanted to walk away from your responsibilities even if it’s only temporary. You were hoping that the fresh air might change something.

For now, you wanted to walk away from yourself. Whatever you were feeling was a pill you couldn’t swallow whole. So, instead, it had swallowed you whole and was now following your thoughts. For now, you kept walking. Not towards anything, just away.

You were currently on the highest part of the trail, on top of that winding staircase that nobody wanted to traverse given how many steps it demanded of anyone brave enough to try. By the time most people reached the halfway point, they were already turning back, laughing breathlessly and deciding the rest simply wasn’t worth it.

That suited you perfectly. Most people preferred the livelier parts anyway, but this place? This isolated, forgotten corner? It was easily the most beautiful part of it. You liked that no one bothered climbing all the way up, and because of that, its beauty remained untouched. No one ever came up here. That was exactly why you loved it.

It was where your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without looking, you picked up, thinking it was San, but it wasn’t. It was one of the companies that you applied for; another one that said you were on their waitlist. Suddenly, the view started to fade into the background, your mood souring entirely.

“I could put you on hold until upper management is free,” the lady on the phone uttered monotonously as if you were just another voice on their roster they had to get rid of. “Though I’m not sure how long that would be.”

“I’ll wait,” you gritted out, trying not to sound let down. You gripped the phone tighter like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground, the telltale music on the other end as you were put on hold ringing in your ear like a heartbeat you didn’t want to hear. 

You knew how this was going to end. It was only one of two; either they put you on hold long enough where you knew they’re doing it on purpose and you’d have no choice but to hang up, or they’d pick up to tell you that they’ll put you on top of their waitlist. You’re just surprised your eyes haven’t gotten stuck behind your brain by how much you rolled them at this point.

But you were in a good mood today. You absentmindedly idled around, still taking in the view as you held the phone to your ear, waiting for what you already knew. Whatever, you thought. If this doesn’t work, you still have KQ. Hopefully.

You dug your free hand inside your pocket, taking out the company card you always carried. You even put a star sticker on it for good luck. You turned the card over between your fingers, the weight of it surprising you every time. Your thumb traced over the embossed letters, in awe of how luxurious even that felt across your fingertips.

KQ Corporation. Of course, you wanted in. They were the best of the best; the crème de la crème of the business world. You’d be set for life. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t special for wanting it. You were just one in the thousands upon thousands of applicants who wanted their piece of the prestige.

You must’ve been so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that you walked into the deeper part of the trail, the one where you didn’t even venture in because the brush was thicker and the trees were denser. It was mostly unkempt because barely anyone went in here. You cursed under your breath when you looked back. You were so high up that going down would take a while because it was steeper to walk down than up.

You decided to walk a little further to find a path that wasn’t as steep, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. Your shoelaces got caught on one of the exposed tree roots that you barely noticed, causing you to trip unceremoniously, dropping everything you held in your hand to catch yourself before you cracked your skull on the nearby tree trunk, using your umbrella to cushion your fall.

You stayed where you fell, palms pressed into the dirt, annoyed at your clumsiness before you started picking your stuff up from the leafy ground of the walking trail. Your phone was only a couple of steps away from you, but your wallet, it wasn’t anywhere near you. Confused, your eyes scanned the ground, and that’s when you spotted it lying on the other side of the trail, further than where it should have been.

With a small groan, you crawled to wherever it was, not caring about the dirt on your clothes. As you were about to grab the worn leather, you stilled, fingers hovering above it. There were voices - two male ones, in fact - and they were close. A little too close for your liking. 

At first, you were going to ignore it, thinking that they were people who ventured a little too far on the trail just like you, but when you heard the distinct sounds of an altercation, it got your attention. Still, it was none of your business. It was an argument you did not want to involve yourself in.

It was the sharp, guttural sound of someone getting choked that had you going completely dead still. Your head automatically lifts to find the source, and there they were. Just beyond the trees was a taller, much bigger man pinning an older man against a tree, his hand wrapped tightly around the other’s throat.

Your chest wanted to cave in. You weren’t supposed to see this. From where they stood, you can tell that nobody was meant to see this at all. But that wasn’t why your gut was churning; you knew deep inside, that you were not supposed to be seen watching this unfold. You didn’t dare move, didn’t even dare breathe in fear that they’ll hear.

The older man choked out a pitiful sound, his fingers desperately clawing the other man’s fingers away from his neck as his face turned into a concerning shade of purple as he struggled for some sort of leverage. “P-Please,” you heard him wheeze weakly. “You c-can’t…”

You were horrified as you watched the taller man tilt his head slightly, not bothering to say a word. He didn’t even look strained as he held the older man hostage even though you knew it must take great strength to force someone’s head against a surface. Hell, you felt like you were straining more trying not to breathe or move.

As the pinned man garbled strings of random words that reeked of desperate mercy, you took this opportunity to stare at the taller man. He was magnetic, and not in a good way. He was broad, menacing in ways that threatened you even from where you sat. His expression was eerily blank as if he wasn’t actively choking the life out of this man.

But his eyes...you did not like them. For a split second as the older man seemed to blabber on and on, his eyes seemed to darken, like an ominous shadow enveloping the humanity in it. Or, perhaps, the complete lack of it. “I-I’ll do it, please, I’ll pay you, give you w-what you want,” the man gasped, his eyes rolling at the back of his head. 

The other man scoffs softly. “I don’t need your money.”

Shivers erupted from your skin at the tone of his voice. It wasn’t that it was low, rough, and rugged - though that certainly was a huge factor. It was the first time you heard him speak after all the broken cries of the other man and you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it again. If his actions already freaked you out, hearing him talk definitely was not going to help. 

“Please, put me down,” the older man croaked pitifully. “P-Put it down.”

It?

That’s when you saw the thing that set this apart from a regular fight between two men. Your eyes settled on the gun the taller man held in his free hand, your stomach dropping as he lifted it, pressing the cold metal on the struggling man’s temple. The motion was sure and final, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been on the other side of the trigger. 

You wanted to throw up. You were done for. You had to get away from here, but how? One wrong move and you were sure you’d be next. You were about to watch someone die and there was nothing you could do about it without giving yourself away. The man’s face had gone blotchy, veins straining as he forced words out past the pressure. “Y-You,” he let out with much difficulty. “You’re going to regret t-this.”

The taller man didn’t react. He just blinked, nodding slowly. “Will I?” He asked, genuinely curious of the answer he might hear next. You wanted to whimper at his sheer indifference.

The pinned man sucked in a broken breath, desperation sharpening his voice. “You think no one’s gonna c-come looking? You’re not untouchable–”

His tirade gets interrupted, letting out a small cry when the man presses the gun more firmly against his head. Your heart just about dropped to your foot at the brash gesture while the latter just lets out a quiet exhale, his fingers visibly tightening even more on the former’s throat.

“Why would that matter to you? You’ll be long gone by then,” he murmured, the faintest hint of something dark curling at the edge of his tone.

 “D-Do you not know who I am? This is—”

“I do,” the taller man interrupts him again, gentler this time. That just made it worse, in your opinion. “And that is exactly why you’re here.”

You were surprised when he suddenly let go, and clearly, the older man as well. He wasn’t thrown to the ground like a rag doll, he was just released, crumpling to the floor as he took in big gulps of the breath that was almost taken from him, dirt smearing all over his clothes as he tried to get away from his captor.

But none of that mattered. The relief was short lived as the taller man took one unhurried step forward, bracing his leg firmly on the ground as he lifted the gun in the air, the finality of it sealing all of your fates - the killer, the victim, and the witness.

Blood drained from your face, but you couldn’t move. It was so morbid, but you just couldn’t look away. The man on the ground trembled, pure and unadulterated panic taking over his entire form. “No, no, wait, p-please,” he begged. “You’re not going to get away with this, Song. People will ask, and they will find you. Don’t do this—”

The taller man stared down at him, expression unchanged save for the slight twitch on the corner of his lips. “You’re right,” he said softly, almost thoughtfully, voice barely audible. “It is highly unusual for big animals to not leave footprints in the snow.”

A soft click fills the air. It was the gun being cocked back in preparation for that one shot, but in the silence of the trail, it sounded like a bone being snapped in half. “But, the thing is,” he continued, eerily calm. “I have very, very small feet.”

Bang.

It was loud. The sound was a split second of finality, but it was deafening. Everything happened in slow motion. The man fell backwards as the bullet that pierced his forehead snuffed the life out of him, the heavy thump of his weightless, limp body falling down the damp soil startling you to the reality that you had just watched cold-blooded murder; you saw somebody die before you.

Faint smoke lazily curled up from the bullet hole on the dead man’s head, his open and unseeing eyes that reflected nothing at all staring up at you, judging you silently. But that wasn’t what made bile rise up your throat - it was the thick splatters of blood speckling your face.

You flinched, eyes closing on instinct as you felt tiny droplets mist across your face, the metallic scent of it making you nauseous. Your breath caught, mouth open as you tried to chase it before you hyperventilated. Your entire body was numb, caught between wanting to tremble like the leaves surrounding you and staying frozen, but the shock of it was preventing you.

You had to get out of here. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want any part of this. All you wanted was to take a walk to relax, you didn’t want to die. But before you could even do anything, a shadow fell above you, enveloping your immediate surroundings ominously.

You stopped breathing then, your fingers curling in your palms, gathering dirt as they trembled. You didn’t look up - you didn’t want to. You could feel him there, staring down at you like he stared down at the man he had just killed, and every instinct in your body screamed at you to run, but you stayed exactly where you were, locked in place like prey that knew better than to twitch under a predator’s gaze.

Neither of you spoke or moved. Time twisted into something shapeless and it felt like a showdown to whoever would crack first. Maybe, your mind supplied in a panic. Maybe if I didn’t move at all he’d leave me alone–

You stopped yourself before that thought festered. No, that would not work. Not in a million years. He’d already seen you, and you know that he knows that you were there the entire time everything went down. Sweat trailed down from your temples, dripping down to the back of your hand. Your heart stopped when your fingers twitched, but that was when a thought struck you.

In a mixture of panic and sheer will to survive - and perhaps, possibly, the most idiotic thing you could ever do - you forced your hands to move. A little at first since they wouldn’t stop shaking, a little because you were scared that your nerves would cause you to topple over. You did it again until your hands dragged clumsily across the ground.

You swallowed hard, doing it over again, all without blinking nor moving your head, forcing your eyes to stare straight at nowhere in particular, your gaze slipping past everything like it couldn’t quite land as you patted blindly at the soil, movements uneven and hesitant while you tried to breathe through your panicked state.

Like you couldn’t see. Because that’s exactly what you were doing - you were pretending to be blind. Please, you internally screamed as your fingers swept all over the ground and purposefully missing your wallet by a few inches. Please let him believe it.

A scream bubbles up your throat when suddenly, the taller man crouches down. He went from standing menacingly tall above you to your eye-level, his face so close to you that you could smell the mint from his breath. You almost yelped when his hand came up to take your sunglasses off - the one you forgot you were still wearing all this time - and he was now staring directly into your eyes.

Your heart wanted to leap out your chest at the suddenness of it, but you forced yourself to look straight past him, hoping to convince him that you legitimately couldn’t see even though all you wanted to do was cry. His unexpected gesture made you fumble, causing you to accidentally run your hands on his shoe, though in hindsight, that might have helped your case. 

Through your unfocused gaze, you saw his brow tilt up. Without breaking eye contact, you saw his hand move through your peripheral vision, his fingers pushing your wallet in the direction where your hands were patting randomly. The silence stretched as you grabbed your wallet, clutching it a little harder than usual, the leather bending abnormally inside your palm.

What now, though? You had the one thing you crawled for in the sweaty palm of your shaking hand, so what now? Your heart was about to leap out of your ribcage. He was still staring, testing to see what you would do next. Even in your stationary gaze, you could tell that he was observing you; trying to detect any sort of deception on your end.

And you forced your eyes to stare between his brows and keep them fully open even when you felt them dry up. Fuck, you thought as dread crept upon you, don’t blink, Y/N, don’t you fucking dare blink–

It was a gradual sensation. You felt it slowly, that thin layer of moisture leaving your eyes. Your eyelids wanted to twitch, wanting to close for that relief, but you held them open; forced them wide. Then the burn came and tears threatened to form as the air around your eyes felt like fine grains, and still, your gaze stayed fixed and empty.

Unfortunately, though, your vision didn’t blur out. Instead, it sharpened in a way that made you notice every single detail about this man. You could see every pore on his skin, the way his icy blonde hair stayed in place even after what he had done, but most importantly, those unreadable eyes.

They showed no particular expression, and to you, that just made this entire thing much, much worse. You needed to know what this man was thinking. It was the only thing that will keep you alive. You had no idea if he was laughing on the inside because of this asinine charade you were pulling, or if his murderous intent had increased since then. You did not know.

Still, there was something chilling about them. Perhaps it was the nothingness in them, or perhaps, that thin, malicious sheen that pulsed with an unspoken threat. Your lashes quivered at the thought and you screamed internally at that blunder. He saw it, you knew he did. His head tilted slightly and you froze harder, if that was even possible.

Then, through your unfocused gaze, you caught the faintest movement. It was his hand moving slowly - the one holding the gun. You stopped breathing completely, but then, you saw him put it away. That should have made you feel better, but it didn’t, because the same hand started to come up until it was within your direct line of sight.

He waved his hand in front of your face, his eyes unblinking as he tested his suspicions, but you forced your eyes to not follow his hands, keeping them dull and off-center. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, his hand started to move forward. Controlled but with certainty, his hand moved until it made contact with your face.

You allowed yourself to flinch at the sudden touch, every muscle in your body locking up so tight that it hurt. His fingers were cold and honestly, you were just bracing for impact, but that didn’t happen. Instead, his fingers lingered, slowly tracing until they stopped on your cheek. He wiped something from your cheek, the pads of his fingers dragging lightly across your skin.

Your stomach lurched. You forgot you unwillingly got sprayed with blood. His hand momentarily pulls away and you watch as he slowly licked his thumb wet before going back in and wiping more of the blood away from your face. It made your skin crawl. The same hand that did not hesitate to pull the trigger felt abnormally tender like you were something so fragile.

It was over as soon as it started. He moved to get up and as you were about to panic, you felt him reach your arm, helping you get up. Your instincts told you to scream and push him away, but you didn’t. Your legs almost failed you as you tried to grab onto your bearings, and when you rose to your full height, your knees almost buckled when you realised that you were only up to this man’s shoulders. You never stood a chance.

You saw him bend down in your peripheral vision, saw him pick up your sunglasses and umbrella before handing them to you. In a morbid twist of events, he even put your sunglasses back on your face before positioning the umbrella for you on the wet, muddy soil of the trail. You swallowed, internally thanking whichever saint was watching over you and for San for making you buy those traditionally long umbrellas.

And for making you bring the umbrella in general, because this man must’ve thought you were using the umbrella as some sort of mobility cane to guide you on your walk. “T-Thank you,” you squeaked weakly, forcing the words out, willing yourself to sound normal even though the sound came out unsteady.

The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs your shoulder, spins you around, and gives you a small nudge forward. At first, you were confused, but you were rendered dizzy when you realised that he turned you to the direction where it would lead to the main part of the trail near the exit. He was basically telling you to go.

The fear locked you into place, and you swear you willed yourself to walk, but you just couldn’t. That didn’t last long because you felt another push on your shoulder, this time, with a bit more force, as if he was telling you, “Go. Leave before I change my mind and end you here.”

That broke whatever mental barrier was hindering you. You gripped the umbrella handle so hard, your knuckles ached, like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Because it basically was. You lifted it, tapping on the ground like you thought people who couldn’t see would, not entirely sure if it looked realistic, but it was enough for now. It had to be.

San walked back and forth briskly in your living room, and had been for the past twenty minutes. His hair was in disarray as he bit his nails anxiously, pausing his walk to open his mouth before closing them again. “I-I just can’t believe it,” he blurted out in disbelief. “He let you go?” He snapped his fingers loud once and you unconsciously flinched. It reminded you of how loud that single gunshot was. “Just like that? He let you go?”

“Yes, how many times do I have to tell you?” You were getting exasperated at this point, stuck between laughing at the incredulity of the situation you found yourself in and crying at how messed up everything was. 

You came home in record time, busting through the front door about to pass out from the lack of breath. San was about to poke fun, but when he noticed how pale you were, trembling abnormally, with dried up streaks of blood on your face, he knew something was not right. “What am I gonna do?” You gulped. “W-What if he followed me here and I didn’t see him? What if he finds me, San? What if—”

“Alright, first off,” he interrupted before he led you to sit down on the couch. “Let’s take a moment—”

“I can’t,” you wailed, feeling tears threaten to fall from your eyes again. Everything suddenly hit you now that you were at the comfort of your own house. “I don’t know what to do, San, I just witnessed someone get shot and die.”

San holds your face in between his hands. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe in with me,” he took a deep breath in, waiting for you to do the same. “Good, now breathe out with me…just like that, you’re doing great.”

It was easier said than done, but you managed to control your breathing by following his actions, and eventually, you felt like your airways were clear enough to get your thoughts straightened out. “I think I should go to the police,” you started, swallowing audibly before continuing. “I don’t think my conscience can take all this burden, I just can’t. I thought crap like this only happened in movies and they all made it seem so easy, but I don’t think I can hold this in.”

“Yeah, you do that, and what?” San raised a brow, pausing to sigh loudly in equal exasperation. “What are you going to tell the police? It’ll be your words against a man I’m pretty sure isn’t hanging around the trail anymore waiting to be caught like a live fish in a lake.”

You ran your hands on your hair, incredulous. “You serious? Are you telling me to just keep this to myself? Someone died, San.”

“Of course not,” he replied in disbelief. “But just think about it - do you even know which part of the trail it is? Do you know what this guy looks like? Can you even describe what this man looks like if they asked you for a composite sketch? You have no proof to bring them, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to retort before forcing them shut. “But, I saw it,” you tried again weakly, clearly grasping for straws at this point. “I saw everything. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It does,” he said, softer now. “To you.”

Your stomach sank. You knew he wasn’t wrong. Best case, they take a report and nothing comes of it. Worst case, they don’t believe you. Not without proof where they’ll start poking holes in a story built on fragments and adrenaline and fear. Your shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of you as quickly as it had come.

San leaned back slightly, watching you with something more measured. “You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “Don’t twist that into something it’s not.”

Your thoughts raced faster, trying to think of how to turn this situation where you didn’t have to carry the burdens of what you saw, but there was nothing; not when you had nothing but a memory you couldn’t even fully trust because you’d spent half of it trying not to see. “So what, I just sit here and pretend it didn’t happen? But…” you trailed off, stomach churning violently. “So in other words, I’m fucked?”

“In many words, you’re fucked,” he scoffed, not at you, but at the situation, as he lightly shook his head. He went quiet for a second before he continued, more gently this time. “All’s I’m saying, let’s not dive in impulsively yet. If this freak had the audacity to do what he did in broad daylight…”

San trailed off, glancing at you pointedly. You gulped. You knew what he was trying to say - that this man was capable and more.

There are a lot of things that are easier said than done. You tried to forget, you really did. It’s been two weeks of constant nightmares plaguing you; two weeks of dread crawling up your skin, festering your insides like a rotten disease that has no cure. Every time you closed your eyes, you’d see man’s eyes that gleamed like a blade in the dark. You just wanted it to stop.

You sighed heavily, pressing your fingers to your temples to stop the clustered migraine making its way up your head, almost tempted to dig your fingers into your eyes just to stop the ache. You had to will them away, now was not the time.

You adjusted your sunglasses to block out the midday sun, gripping the fabric of your pencil skirt a little too tightly and then alternating that with smoothing the wrinkles you made over and over again. You were nervous. Today was a big day, after all.

Because you were currently in line along with other people outside of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, waiting to be let in for an interview. You will never forget getting the call a couple of days ago, thinking that it was another dud from a random company, but when Jeong Yunho introduced himself as KQ Corporation’s secretary and told you that you could come in for an interview, your mind just blanked out. 

The KQ logo sat high above the entrance, sleek and understated and you watched as it swallowed candidates one by one. Getting in the building was just step one; getting inside the lobby for the actual interview was another thing. That, alone, wracked up your anxiety.

“Sorry, but is there a way you could perhaps save my spot for me? I just need to use the restroom real quick.” You didn’t realise that the voice was coming directly from behind you. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure, of course, take your time,” you spoke nonchalantly, not really paying attention to the person.

You didn’t think much of it. After a while, you heard annoyed murmurs and minor complaints from behind you, snide remarks about people cutting in line. You assumed it was the man from earlier coming back and you thought that was that. “It’s crazy, huh? All these people want to be in and we’re one of them.” You didn’t reply at first, but then you realised that the casual statement was actually directed towards you. “Oh, yeah,” you chuckled when you turned around, nervously adjusting your sunglasses. “One can only dream, am I right?”

The stranger lets out a small laughter, nodding his head in agreement. You observed him for a second. He looked handsome, though intimidating in his stance with his sturdy and athletic build. However, his face was soft, his warm gummy smile complimenting his face. “For sure. If only it wasn’t so damn hot out here,” he said, fanning himself with his hand while the other jutted forward for a handshake. “Hi, I’m Choi Jongho. Should’ve introduced myself earlier.”

You took his hand and shook it well, hoping yours wasn’t clammy because he was right, it was hot outside the building. “L/N Y/N,” you smiled. “I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he replied, mouth tugging up with a soft smile as he adjusted his own sunglasses. “For one, you’re the nicest person I’ve encountered today. Been holding that piss for hours now and these assholes just…well. Half the people here are acting like they’ve already been hired. Thank you for that, by the way.”

He wasn’t wrong. People stood a little too straight, eyes flicking over one another in quick, calculating glances, silently sizing up competition. Some didn’t even bother to hide it. Everyone just wanted to one up another. “Don’t mention it,” you dismissed. “Good luck to us, I suppose.”

Jongho was about to open his mouth to say it back, but it never came because suddenly, the energy shifted. The people began to murmur to themselves, clamouring as their voices overlapped with one another. You were confused, but you soon realised what was happening.

Someone important was about to come; someone to impress. Security guards lined up, parting the crowd to make space. You didn’t have to wait long. You felt a presence a distance away so commanding that you didn’t have to look.

There he was. The person moved towards the building with ease like he didn’t need the path cleared - like the world would’ve parted for him anyway. His stride was unhurried and grounded, confident in a way that wasn’t forced. You could easily tell that this person was in charge with the way he didn’t even acknowledge the attention. He didn’t have to.

As he got closer, you got a clearer view of this person. Your eyes traced upwards slowly, taking him in piece by piece, until you stopped at his face. But the moment you did, you regretted it. Everything slowed and your breath caught so sharp that it physically hurt you afterward.

No, no, no, you internally screamed, doom suddenly making your ears ring, easily tuning everything out as you honed in on the one face you’ve been trying to forget for two weeks now. Your heart dropped so fast it felt like it hit the ground.

It was him. The man from the trail. There was no doubt about it. You didn’t even have to look at his entire face, his eyes alone were enough. It was those same empty eyes that contemplated your demise; the same eyes where you saw your end before he let you go that day. And right now, people were parting for him as he walked through with authority. But that wasn’t what made him different today, it wasn’t what made him even more dangerous.

It was the way he carried himself. It was so different from the rugged, aggressive man from the trail. Your stomach lurched violently. What was he doing here? You couldn’t breathe, everything in you wanted to run, but he was getting closer and closer to where you were, and you couldn’t even move away.

And as if things weren’t bad for you already, you swore, you could have sworn, that you saw his eyes flicker towards you for a split second.

But he just moved past you, not stopping, not slowing down, not even bothering to look. He walked straight past, the guards falling in line behind him as he approached the entrance. The doors opened seamlessly, like they’d been waiting for him and then he was gone. Just like that.

It was when your knees gave out. The world violently spun around you as you stumbled. Everything crashed down on you, overwhelmingly and suffocatingly so. The noise, the heat, the crowd - none of that mattered to you. All you could think of was the nightmare you’ve lived for two weeks and now that very same nightmare was haunting you while you were wide awake.

You barely registered the firm touch of hands on your waist, balancing you up. Jongho’s worried face suddenly materialises in front of you, a frown on his face as he used the folder he had on himself to fan you as his other hand held your limp arm to also stablise you. “Y/N? You’re pale,” he pointed out. “Is it the heat? I can get you water–”

“W-Who was that?” You blurted out in a panic, jutting your trembling fingers at the entrance door. “That man who just went in…who was that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s the CEO,” he answered as he helped you up, but all you wanted to do was throw up as his answer looped over and over in your head. That man was the CEO. He was the CEO. He’s in charge. He killed someone two weeks ago and you saw it. 

Your fingers curled tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as panic surged, hot and suffocating. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense. Did he see you? That can’t be. There were no less than a hundred people and you were just one of them. There was no way.

Beads of sweat started to trickle down from your scalp to your jaws, but you barely felt it with how cold your entire body felt on the inside. I have to get out of here, you internally panicked, already planning your escape route. You’d have lost your damn mind if you thought you were going to spend another second in the presence of a cold-blooded killer.

But before you could even attempt to leave, the entrance opens again and out comes someone and everyone falls into a hush when he raises his hand. Even in your frightened state, you could see that this was another person of authority. It was obvious that whatever he said next wasn’t up for discussion.

“We appreciate your interest in KQ Corporation and your time in attending today’s selection process,” he began, voice polished to perfection. “I’ll cut to the chase, if you are not Choi Jongho and L/N Y/N, then you are all dismissed.”

Your heart stopped for half a second. The crowd immediately erupted around you with voices of anger and disbelief as, but all of that faded into muffled white noise. You desperately wanted the high-pitched ringing in your ears to stop, but your limbs refused to move. “If there are any further disruptions,” the man said calmly, cutting through the noise with ease, “We will be forced to escalate this situation accordingly.”

Now, he didn’t say it outright, but the implication was clear - continue fucking around to find out. People still grumbled, but one by one, they started to leave. Still, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was throw up. You had been picked, and now, there was no way out. Not anymore.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice came through, breaking you out of your trance. You turned to look at him, and he still had that stunned look on his face. “This was…unexpected. We should go,” he cleared his throat nervously. He says something more, but you didn’t hear any of it. You were still feeling the aftereffects of your name being called. You were genuinely terrified and trapped. “Y/N?” Jongho frowned, looking back in confusion as to why you weren’t moving.

Your feet wouldn’t move. Inside those walls was everything you'd been dreaming of to advance in your career. The problem was, so was he. The memory hit you all over again - his eyes, the gun, the terror - and you just knew you couldn’t go in there. Your breathing picked up, throat tightening. You needed something, anything, to protect yourself. But before you could stop yourself, your mouth just moved on its own and you blurted out, “I-I’m blind.”

Jongho’s eyes widened in sheer surprise. “What? Oh my,” the latter uttered in disbelief, immediately walking back towards you. “I-I didn’t know, I’m sorry, here…”

He extended his hand, and you almost reached out, but stopped yourself, forcing your gaze to unfocus, tilting your head like you were listening instead of seeing. Jongho was confused why you weren’t taking his hand, but then, he face-palmed himself. “Oh, God, I’m an idiot,” he hissed. “Uhm, is it alright if I hold onto you so I can help you get inside?”

You nodded stiffly, legs finally unlocking as he guided you forward. In no time, the both of you were following the man, who you soon learned was none other than Jeong Yunho, himself. You saw him raise a brow at how Jongho was guiding you, but when he had told him of your circumstances, he stayed silent for a moment. If he was surprised, he barely let it show.

“Are you going to be okay?” Yunho asked as he guided you by the arm to sit down in one of the rooms. Jongho is already being shown his respective position so that left you. “On behalf of the company, I sincerely apologise for any discomfort. Had I known, I personally would have made you wait here from the start.”

Yunho’s voice was soft, and he was surprisingly gentle. It was such a contrast to his cool and intimidating exterior. You had to force your head still, thankful you didn’t have to take your sunglasses off so you wouldn’t have to pretend too hard. “I-It’s alright,” you stammered, trying hard not to sound like you were one step away from fainting. “I’d like to be hired fair and square despite my…shortcomings.”

“Admirable, I like that. I’m sure he will, too,” Yunho hummed. He stood up, patting your shoulder gently once. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. He’s just finishing a phone call, but he’ll be ready to personally interview you soon. Do call if you need anything, Y/N.”

Bile started to rise from your throat, but you had to make sure. “W-Wait,” you stopped Yunho before he walked away. “I-I’m sorry, who’s the he you’re referring to?”

Yunho lets a small smirk slip out before masking it quickly. “The boss, Y/N. This is his office,” he replied, gesturing his hand to the room. “He’s been quite taken with your credentials. You are exactly what he’s looking for.”

You did not like the sound of that. What the fuck does that even mean? Unfortunately, you had plenty of time to think about it as you sat in that chair, waiting for your doom to swallow you whole and spit you out with nothing but bones left. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Life was a joke like that. You knew you were going to see him again. You weren’t meant to stay in peace forever. But, goddamn, you didn’t think it would be this soon. You could’ve gotten more time, at least. Hell, you never wanted to see him at all ever again if it was up to you.

Your gaze lifted, carefully taking everything in. The office was spacious and elegant, but minimal in its decor. Dark, sleek furniture of sharp edges surrounded you, and surprisingly, it actually made sense. It was a mirror of how he was as a person, you couldn’t explain it. And then, you saw it - a metal plate fixed neatly against the desk with his name on it.

Song Mingi. Chief Executive Officer.

Your mouth dried up, eyes focusing sharply on that plate. Song Mingi. The name echoed in your head. Finally, you had a name to match to the face; a name to tie to the crime. He wasn’t just a memory anymore, he was tangible and real. He was here. And so were you.

“Comfortable?”

Hot breath ghosted over your ear. You jerked on instinct, nearly jumping out of your skin, yelping as your heart thundered violently against your ribcage. A low, amused chuckle followed. “Sorry,” a deep voice murmured, not sounding apologetic at all. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Something about that just sounded so…wrong to you. It was a good thing you didn’t turn around, because there he was, the man of your nightmares walking to sit behind his pristine desk. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, terror washing all over you as you tried not to tremble, holding your breath as if that would save you.

Mingi. He was exactly as you remembered, yet somehow worse at the same time. He was still as broad two weeks ago, but instead of a black faded jacket, he wore a suit that emphasized his long limbs. He was still blonde, hair still slicked back, and the pale colour should’ve looked soft in this particular lighting, but not on him.

Unfortunately, it emphasized the sharpness of his features, contrasting his high cheekbones and lips that were curled slightly up the edges like he knew something you didn’t. It also highlighted those murderous eyes, except this time, they were filled with mirth and not in a good way. 

He looked good. No one would be the wiser that this man had no problem taking someone's life. You were about to stand, albeit stiffly, about to offer him a bow in respect, when his low voice cut you off mid-gesture. “No need,” he spoke firmly. You froze, not knowing what to do. “I’ve been informed of your…circumstances,” he continued, that faint curl of amusement still lingering in his tone.

You swallowed. Right. You were blind. You forced out a smile, hands gripping the sides of the chair awkwardly. You were still stuck in that halfway standing position and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even want to move, every inch of you wanted to just get up and run.

“Sit down.”

He said it so quietly that you barely heard him. You obeyed, though, because the way he said it was not a suggestion. So there you were, sat on a cushy chair that felt more like a trap across from where he also sat, not saying a word. The problem was, neither was he. You waited, keeping your posture pin straight as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

Instead, you saw his eyes on you, taking you in unhurriedly and deliberately like he had all the time in the world. Like you did too. Subconsciously, your fingers curled into your skirt, and you saw his eyes trail down at the gesture. His lips twitched a little, eyes shining like he was enjoying this far more than he should. It made your skin crawl.

The silence was oppressive. It made the room seem smaller, the air thinner somehow. Even the faint, ambient noises you might have expected like a clock ticking, footsteps outside the room, and paperwork rustling were absent. It was as if the room itself had decided to hold its breath, waiting to see what the both of you would do next.

But Mingi’s gaze remained fixed on you as though he could sit in this silence indefinitely and emerge victorious simply by outlasting you. There was no urgency in him, no need to fill the void. If anything, he seemed to thrive in it. You shifted slightly, your discomfort evident, and his lips stretched further. He was savouring this, enjoying it far more than he had any right to.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

The words didn’t land immediately. It was comparable to lightning where you’d see it before the booming loudness hit your ears. Your breath hitched, the dread pushing bile up your throat that you forced yourself to swallow. “I-I,” you started, voice cracking embarrassingly before you cleared your throat. “I, uhm, see silhouettes, but I’m mostly unseeing. You get used to it.”

There was a pause before he let out a soft chuckle, and somehow, that was the most menacing thing you’ve ever seen him do. “Do you?” He asked, tilting his head. You nodded weakly, and this time, you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. 

“Ah, I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” he chuckled again, waving a dismissive hand like he didn’t just make this entire encounter the most uncomfortable thing ever. “I meant that as a compliment. Let’s start over again, yes? Would you mind if I touched your hand to shake it?”

“N-No, not at all,” you replied, lifting your hand, steadying your head forward, still keeping your gaze unfocused and out of centre. Mingi does not hesitate to grab it, gripping it firmly, and for a split second, the way he did it reminded you of how he held your shoulders at the trail. Shivers crawled up your spine at the memory.

“Song Mingi, Chief Executive,” he introduced, shaking your hand before letting go. “Welcome to KQ Corporation. I’m sure you’ve heard of us, hopefully only the good things, though.”

“L/N Y/N,” you smiled tightly, putting on your professional stance, pretending that all of this was normal. That wasn’t the hard part anyway, you were good at your job. Your resumé speaks for itself. “It’s my honour to be here, Mr. Song. KQ has been a lifelong dream of mine.”

A ghost of a smirk graces his lips. “Charmed,” he said. “And Mingi will be just fine. We’ll be working very close together, Y/N. I suggest you get used to it.”

You chuckled nervously, disliking the message, hating the way he said it even more. But there was nothing you could do, not as you felt the weight of his gaze dragging over every detail of you just waiting for you to fail, patiently standing by to see when he could dig his claws in.

“Right. Let’s begin,” he started, posture straightening immediately into something more professional. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because, after all, the killer was an established businessman. “As you are aware, KQ invests plenty on international ventures. As do I. My presence is scarce in my own company because I’m always out of the country.”

You paid attention, ignoring the deep drawl of his voice and the change in his demeanor that was throwing you off-kilter. This was dangerous. If he could switch from being a menace to this composed, articulate executive in the blink of an eye, then nothing about him was accidental.

“Now, I had been told prior by Yunho about your visual impairment,” he continued, grabbing a couple of papers from the desk drawers. Your eyes tracked his measured movements without moving your neck, which proved difficult. “And while it is unconventional,” he paused, taking something small from the stack and sliding it across the desk directly in front of you. “Sight is not necessary for what I am hiring you to do for me, specifically.”

Your gaze dropped to his desk, and you felt your head spin so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was the company card you didn’t even know you had lost until this moment. It was yours, and you knew it was because of the star sticker. It also had small, dried up specks of blood on it.

You forced your breathing to stay even, but something in your chest had already tightened, coiling too fast to control. San was right - you were thoroughly, utterly fucked. This was no coincidence. He’d had the card all this time, and he was deliberately showing you.

But, you weren’t going to give in. Not now even if fear was harder to mask when it came from recognition. Mingi leaned on his seat, his gaze sharpening into something more analytical rather than predatory. “Something wrong?” He asked, almost innocently.

You shook your head, putting on a smile that you hoped didn’t resemble a grimace. “No, Sir—”

“Mingi.”

“—I was just wondering what my job description would be,” you finished, digging your nails into your palms. “M-Mingi.” 

A pause. His brows raised ever so slightly. There was a soft, almost inaudible, exhale of satisfaction from him before he went back to inspecting the stack of paperwork in his hands. “I reviewed your resumé,” he spoke, plucking said resumé from the stack. “Very impressive. Your previous company was tactless for letting you slip away.”

And there it was again. He was back at being eloquent. You watched as his eyes skimmed through your resumé, nodding imperceptively the longer he went on. You might even go as far as say that this might be the only time he was truthful with his words and actions. “If I didn’t know better,” he went on, voice lowering just enough to demand your full attention, “I’d assume they were giving you to me on a silver platter.”

Mingi didn’t miss the flicker in your expression. “Anyway,” he continued, the air shifting back into something more cutthroat. “To put this simply, I am in need of a personal translator. I do business with important people overseas and most of the time, you can imagine how challenging the language barrier could be especially if there is a lot at stake.” He paused, letting you absorb the information. “I do not always have the liberty of hiring different people all the time for that. We’re talking massive corporate leviathans here, Y/N. Things that simply cannot be common knowledge for the masses. Are you following me so far?”

You nodded. “I need discretion,” he continued smoothly, eyes hardening aggressively. “And efficiency. I will never compromise on those two. I will expect nothing less than perfection, certainly not while the vultures await. They only feed on decaying matter, after all.”

You straightened slightly. You were beginning to see why KQ was at the top echelon of the business world and why it was difficult to get in. “Understood.”

“I don’t repeat instructions. I don’t find pleasure being with people who waste my time and breath,” he added, almost conversationally. “Nor do I tolerate delays disguised as effort.”

There it was again, that edge that wasn’t loud nor overt, but unmistakably cutting nonetheless. You nodded once. “You won’t have to.”

“Good,” he said, seemingly pleased with your answer. He taps the resumé with his pen twice. “As I said, your credentials are impressive enough for me to overlook your limited vision. I only need you to hear and speak. If your achievements are what you say they are, then it won’t be of any hindrance.”

You could feel him watching you. Not curiously, but with the kind of attention that dissected reactions down to the smallest fracture. He was sizing you up, confirming if you had what it takes. “When do I start?” You asked, voice steady by sheer force and will.

He raised a brow, clearly fascinated. The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly, though there was nothing warm about it. “Interesting,” Mingi murmured, almost thoughtful, twirling his pen with his fingers absentmindedly. “You have maintained composure so far where other people would have folded. I admire your tenacity, Y/N. Truly.”

Your throat felt dry. He was talking about business, he had to be. The double entendre was difficult to ignore, however, it didn’t feel like he was just talking about this, but this was probably paranoia on your end. “I have been told I had plenty,” you replied curtly.

Another ghost of that smirk. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself. “I’m beginning to see that.”

He straightened before you could react, snapping back into place like nothing had happened. “Your role, should you accept the opportunity I’m willing to extend to you,” he said, now all business again. “Will be as important as mine. You are the bridge of communication, the deciding factor on whether KQ stays afloat or sinks beyond. Failure is not an option.”

You nodded, grateful for the clarity. You could do that. It was work you understood and could control. “And if I don’t?” You asked, deliberately.

His eyes held yours, glinting with something that refused to be challenged. “You can either follow the rules, break them, or answer to me.”

There were no traces of threat in that statement, but that lingering tension stayed in your chest. Your own fear was twisting his words into something they weren’t. “So,” he continued expectantly. “What say you, Y/N?”

To leave was diving into uncertainty, but to stay was entering the belly of the beast. You nodded firmly, effectively choosing the lesser of two evils.  It was beginning to feel like a crossroads deal with the devil rather than a business transaction. “Now that we got all of that out of the way,” he said. “I do have one small favour to ask of you.”

“I’ll try my best to accommodate,” you said.

“Might I see the eyes of the person that’ll be with me and my business for most of the time? Plus, I reckon it’s proper etiquette to remove any sort of outdoor eyewear in front of your boss.”

You stopped breathing. Your sunglasses. It was the only thing blocking your eyes from him, the thing making it easier to pretend you weren't actually blind. You took a moment, not doing anything under his scrutiny, frozen under the weight of his unyielding expectancy. You gritted your teeth, upset that you couldn’t worm your way out of this one without being questioned.

In the end, you lowered your head not out of submission, but out of necessity, forcing your vision to blur; to dull itself into nothingness even if you’d be looking the devil in the eye once you remove the protective barrier that was keeping you somewhat safe. But the moment you looked up, your soul nearly left your body.

The fountain pen Mingi was holding was right there, the sharp, gleaming tip of it hovering only a couple of inches away from your left eye. He pointed the nib so close that if you blinked, your lashes would graze the metal - so close that you could feel it. Not just the grizzly pressure of it against your cornea if he actually pressed it, but the coldness the metal radiated.

The fear had left you petrified from where you sat. One wrong reaction - one wrong move - and it’s over. You might actually lose your eyesight for real. You swallowed your terror, willing your eyes to stay unfocused, compelling yourself to not see the pen and Mingi, himself.

And through your bleary vision, you could clearly see the way his lips fought to stay still, how he tried not to let out a smile. “You have beautiful eyes,” he remarked casually like he wasn’t about to stab your cornea. “Such shame. It would’ve been a delight to see those peepers sparkle. Have you never seen your own eyes, Y/N?”

Oh, God. The nerve of this maniac, you internally panicked, vision wavering dangerously as you fought for your body to stay rigid. “At some point, I might have. I’ve long forgotten. I tend to…forget things easily,” you replied confidently, praying that he got the message - that you wouldn’t tell a soul what you saw that dreadful day on the trail.

The corners of his mouth finally gave in, amusement dancing faintly in his eyes. “Do you?” Mingi clicked his tongue, sounding deceivingly thoughtful if it wasn’t for how predatory his face actually looked. “Because I don’t.”

His hand shifted, the pen tilting closer by a fraction. It was just enough to make your heart lurch violently against your chest. You could already imagine it, the promise of pure pain once that sharp metal nib goes through your eye, yet still, you refused to move, not daring to even take a breath in for fear of accidentally stabbing yourself in the eye, instead.

You saw him nod to himself, running his tongue painfully slow against his bottom lip as if he was impressed at your show of obstinacy. “That’s alright,” he hummed thoughtfully, voice deceptively soft. It was terrifying. If you were actually blind, you would have genuinely thought he was comforting you because he sounded so gentle.

“Though I must say,” he added. “Do forgive this ignorant man, but for someone who’s blind, I’m surprised at the clarity of your eyes. They look so clear and unclouded.”

Before you could spiral, a voice from behind you cleared their throat - someone you didn’t know was there until they spoke out. That should’ve scared you, and it did because that meant they've been there all along, silently watching all of this unfold. But for now, you could consider them your saving grace because you were running out of excuses.

“Cut it out, Mingi. Not everyone who is blind has those milky eyes you’re thinking of,” a man spoke disapprovingly. 

Mingi’s eyes shifted to look behind you. His eyes, God, the way they glared at whoever this mystery person was nothing short of terrorizing. They were so soulless and predatory, but that wasn’t why it shook you, because for a second, it was like looking at him two weeks ago again. It was the same look he had as he stared at that man seconds before he pulled the trigger.

“Right,” he murmured, finally lowering the pen and allowing you to breathe. He paused, taking in a breath before he returned to that professionalism you were starting to abhor. “My apologies. I have a lot to learn. Anyway, that would be my personal assistant.”

“Kim Hongjoong,” the mystery man introduces himself. You stood up, purposefully bowing in the wrong direction, to which he chuckled lightheartedly. “I appreciate that. We’ll be working very closely together. I handle Mingi’s affairs a lot.”

You smiled tightly, curious as to why Hongjoong gave a pointed look at the taller man. “Affairs as in now. You have a meeting with the finance department,” he continued, glaring heatedly. Your gaze flickered between the two men. Something was off. You’ll have to observe more next time, so for now, you tucked this information away for later.

“You’ll be hearing from him more than you will from me,” Mingi said, already shifting, already moving on like nothing had happened. Your attention snapped back to him. “He handles my schedule. Hongjoong will e-mail them to you. You can return next Monday”

Your stomach twisted. “M-Monday?”

“Yes, my dear. Monday,” he chuckled, amused, already halfway to the door. “I’m giving you a week to prepare yourself because once you start, there will be no turning back. I’ll have Yunho arrange for someone to escort you home,” he added over his shoulder.

The words settled into the room like a verdict. And before you could even process it, he was gone.

Working at KQ proved to be rewarding and challenging at the same time. Everyone either loved or feared Mingi, but for the most part, it was both. And working for him has proven to be conflicting for you. You haven’t seen him much, which you were honestly very thankful for, however, he did keep you at arms length.

Perhaps, he just wanted to keep a close eye on you because you exclusively worked inside his personal office, sitting all day on his cushy leather couch. Even Yunho found it fascinating.

Mingi was good at what he did. Painfully so, because the results were hard to deny. He didn’t waste time, didn’t tolerate incompetence, and had a way of cutting through problems so cleanly it left everyone else scrambling to keep up. You hated that you were impressed. Beneath the fear you had, he earned the power he held over everyone and you hated admitting it.

But at the same time, he made things a little smoother for you. Or at least, he sent someone to make things easier for you. Seonghwa was heaven sent, a ray of sunshine, if you will. He was the opposite of what this cutthroat industry stood for - very bubbly and energetic. He was the sweetest person, and that in itself made this place more bearable.

But you knew better. This wasn’t just a random act of kindness from your boss. This was Song Mingi, and Mingi was cunning. This was him exerting control even in unconventional senses such as adjusting his variables to make sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you to.

“Y/N, sweetie, are you alright? You still haven’t told me what you wanted,” Seonghwa’s soft and comforting voice spoke, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You almost turned to look at him, mildly startled, but you stopped yourself at the last second. “Sorry,” you apologised sheepishly. “I was just thinking. What were you saying?”

“I brought coffee and tea, I didn’t know which one you wanted so I figured I’d buy both so you could pick one to sip on while we work,” he said, already setting things down without waiting for a response, his voice bright and alive in a way that warmed you up. He was a nice man, and you felt bad for deceiving him, but no one can know you weren’t blind.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off before managing a small smile. “I prefer tea. Thank you, you didn’t have to–”

“Of course I did,” he cut in cheerfully, waving you off like it was obvious, already sitting down next to you. “Let’s start now so you can leave early. I get worried every time you go home with the sun gone. Same as usual, yeah? Just forgive my crappy Mandarin.”

This was the arrangement. Seonghwa would read, you would translate, and he would write it down. Luckily, you didn’t get much written documents, and computers were easy to worm your way out of since you managed to convince Hongjoong that voice-to-text worked well for you, and Mingi seemed to have no problem with it so long as the work got done.

It was the in-person business transactions that you were nervous about. So far, Mingi hasn’t taken you out to speak for major clientele, but he wasn’t lying when he said he worked for the big sharks. Three weeks shy in and you were already exhausted drafting and translating contracts and paperwork for him. Until today.

You were halfway through the document when the door to the office opened. Your back automatically straightened, eyes dulling themselves even further, when Mingi strolled in. You didn’t even have to look at him; you could just feel the immense power he exuded from his presence, alone, and how one glance could silence the room.

He didn’t greet either of you nor looked in your direction, just striding straight towards his desk to review some paperwork that was waiting for him to sign. You loosen up a bit. When Mingi was in the zone, he barely paid attention to his surroundings. Or is that what he wanted you to think? You didn’t care so long as he didn't acknowledge you at all. And you liked it that way.

The only thing that could be heard was the rustling of paper as Mingi flipped some documents, Seonghwa reading, and your whispers of translation. Times like these also allowed you to pay attention to his mannerisms. He didn’t have a lot, but it was the little things that truly scared you.

Like right now with his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed into slits as he furiously scribbled. It brought you dread when you realised down the line that he showed more expression to mere documents more than he ever did pulling that trigger on that man on the trail.

He had taken the liberty to take his coat off, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms that you were unable to look away from. Another thing that frustrated you to no end was that the more you observed Mingi, the harder it was to deny that he was very attractive. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve been your type.

“How long until you’re done?” Mingi suddenly asked, voice hushed in the quietness of the office, still not bothering to look up.

“In about twenty minutes or so,” you blurted out, slightly startled, but more so annoyed at yourself for checking him out.

“Make it five. You’re coming with me.”

You could practically feel your hackles rise because, of course, nothing about this job was ever going to be simple. “Pardon?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Did I stutter?” Mingi retorted flatly, barely audible. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when he turned lazily to you. “I vaguely recall telling you that I don’t particularly enjoy repeating instructions,” he drawled slowly. “Those aren’t empty words, Y/N. You told me you understood.”

You had to physically stop your face from visibly souring and glaring heatedly at him, stiffly just nodding in response while mumbling a half-hearted apology. True to his words, he stood up exactly five minutes after, giving you one glance as if to say, ‘Follow me’, before leaving. All without even waiting for you. 

So there you were, marching through the office like a spectacle, eyes wide open but empty, as if you’ve truly mastered the art of pretending to unsee. Mingi created quite a distance between you two and you’ve barely managed to catch up with him before he went in the elevator. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” You inquired faintly in the tight area of the elevator as its doors closed.

Through your peripherals, you caught Mingi’s lips quirk into a small smirk. “You are,” he replied, pressing a floor button. “Am I required to answer them?”

Your lips curve down into a frown, brain buffering for a split second. Mingi seemed to sense your distress and let out a deep chuckle. “I’m taking you on a little trip around the company,” he said. “I reckon it’s good for you to map out a layout in your head so you could develop some sort of muscle memory to make up for your lack of sight.”

That made sense. And you hated that it did. If you were actually blind, you would’ve been all over the moon. You swallowed nervously, dread crawling up your spine bit by bit the more the elevator rose. You did not like any of this one bit. The silence was stifling. It was hard to breathe especially with him so close. Mingi was a snake; he was constricting and looking away would be a fatal mistake. You didn’t even want to blink because you know he’ll be there, slithering around the brush, waiting to coil himself around you. 

You were startled back into sensibility when you heard a ‘ding’. You have arrived, and you didn’t know where. Before you could even ask, Mingi walked out and you had no choice but to move after him. At least you were behind him; it allowed you to look around freely.

But the moment you lifted your head to take in your surroundings, your heart dropped to your feet. This floor looked desolated, abandoned at best, like construction had started but never fully finished. Lights worked, but it was dim, and the walls weren’t even painted, leaving exposed wiring behind unfinished panels.

“Right this way,” Mingi said smoothly like nothing about this was unusual. “We’re heading near the HR department, for starters.”

Your face turned green with the intense need to vomit. A damn lie, it was, because in no shape or form were you near said department. You had half the mind to turn around and run back to the elevator, and the further you walked, the more you wanted to. But then, he stopped right in front of a suspicious looking door.

“This,” he said, already turning the handle to open it. “Is one of our private conference rooms. We could start here, but not to worry, everything is…everything is on the same floor.”

Panic spiked through you, but you had no choice but to swallow it down and walk through, and you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was certainly not an empty room. No furniture, no dividers, no equipment, no nothing. Just a large, open space with bare floors and large windows that emphasized how empty it was. There were no signs of use and no signs of life; just too much space. It was  somehow the most claustrophobic room you’ve ever been in. To make matters worse, you heard Mingi shut the door behind you.

“Let’s begin,” Mingi murmured, but it was loud as it reverberated around emptiness. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’ll tell you where to go, you just have to listen. Fair?”

You nodded stiffly, not knowing what he was planning to do, but judging by the toothy, wolfish grin spread wide on his lips that screamed of danger, it wasn’t anything good. “Perfect,” he said. “Just give me a couple of steps forward.”

And you did, mechanically dragging your foot to make that first step, opting to stop when it felt right. “Good,” you heard him say. There was a pregnant pause in the air before he continued again. “Actually, let’s try that again. A few steps back, please.”

Your lips twitched in perplexity, not knowing where he was going with this. Somehow, retracing your steps made your feet feel heavier than moving forward. You were back where you started by the door with Mingi to your far left still leaning against that wall, still staring intently at you as if he was waiting for you next move. Kind of like how he watched you that day in the forest to see what you’d do after he shot that man.

“Turn to your right. Walk approximately ten steps forward,” he finally said. You followed. “Now turn to the left. It leads to another room.”

You took a deep breath, walking into said ‘room’ anyway. “Forward a bit, then turn left,” he instructed, and again, you followed. “That’s another conference room.”

You swallowed the urge to scream at him that there was no room; that there was absolutely nothing. You could only hum, hoping to sound enthusiastic as you felt him getting closer. “You best remember that, love,” he commented. Dread crept up your insides. He sounded a little too happy, letting that polite mask slip away for a moment to enjoy whatever this humiliation ritual was. “Anyway, there’s a door in front of you, doll.”

Gritting your teeth to reel in your annoyance, you lifted a shaky hand to play along, letting out a convincing hum of confusion and surprise when you felt nothing but air. “Ah,” he said lightly. “Maybe this is too advanced. Next time, I suppose.”

God, you just wanted to go back to translating with Seonghwa, but instead, you’ve become a clown walking forward and backwards into an empty room, kind of like a child with a vivid imagination playing maze. “Turn around,” you heard him say. “Walk until I say stop.”

He wasn’t there when you turned around. That would mean he was behind you. Your knees almost buckled because you didn’t even hear him walk at all. You did as told, each step stretching just a little too long in the silence. But as you moved, your worry increased. This was the longest you’ve walked so far and he hasn’t told you to stop yet.

You waited for him to say something, anything, because you were a couple of steps away from colliding into the wall. The next couple of steps had you sweating, breathing heavily as you tried to walk normally, pretending that you weren’t about to get a nasty bump on your forehead from purposefully smacking face forward a concrete wall - all to make him still believe you’re blind.

Several steps from impact and you could already feel your legs hesitating to move forward, your pace stuttering, but you pushed, adjusting your steps accordingly to make everything still seem believable. You waited up until the very last few steps, but when you heard nothing from Mingi, you instinctively closed your eyes as the wall got closer, bracing for impact.

“Stop.”

The word snapped through the air just as your nose hovered a breath away from the surface. You halted instantly, biting your tongue to stop the startled squeak that threatened to leave your lips, not feeling any pain at all from the adrenaline and the fear pumping into your bloodstream.

“Careful,” Mingi murmured, his voice just behind your shoulder now, lips barely touching your ear. “There’s a wall here. You’ll want to remember that.” 

A soft, nervous laugh left you, controlled but imperfect. “I-I will,” you stammered. 

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin when he chuckled, low and amused, directly in your ears. “Yeah?” He whispered. Shivers broke out of you at his tone, especially when you felt him smile against the shell of your ear. You nodded. “You sure?”

You felt him blow the faintest air onto your skin. “Hmm. I like it when people listen,” Mingi whispered again, voice going even heavier in a way that had your stomach churning. He paused, like he was giving you grace to take it all in. “Especially when they know they should.”

You fought the instinct to break through this newfound tension. You were very aware of how little close you were - how easy it would be to move, and how impossible it felt to actually do it. “I said I would,” you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. 

“I know, but saying it and proving it…” Mingi let the sentence trail off, the implication settling in the charged silence between you. Your breath hitched when you saw his hands settle on the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in. “...I wonder how far that goes,” he finished. “Anyway, let’s continue.”

You sighed in relief when he pulled away, though you weren’t sure if that was better. He was back at it with his instruction, and this time, he’s double the intensity. “Try again,” he instructed, clearly amused at your mistakes. “I said move slightly, not do a full swerve. Again.”

And again. Again. And again. Again and again and again. Mingi made you turn, then walk. Stop. Back. Forward. Shift. Over and over and over again. Your steps grew heavier, your legs starting to ache, your breathing less steady no matter how hard you tried to hide it. And through it all, he watched you. Still, you had to continue with gritted teeth.

Your patience thinned as he watched you walk yourself into humiliation like it was the most entertaining thing in the world. But you moved because stopping wasn’t an option, especially not when Mingi resembled a predator observing a prey exhaust itself, just lying in wait before he struck to take advantage of your vulnerability.

Every time you turned, you caught glimpses of him. His expression remained composed, but his eyes were alert and focused, waiting to see if your blind act was about to fail as he followed every single movement you made. And he was enjoying this, you could tell. The faint curl at the corner of his mouth when you adjusted yourself mid-motion was more than enough to tell you.

“That’ll be all, Y/N. You can stop now,” Mingi said, his voice returning to that composed, professional tone as if you weren’t breathing hard in exhaustion. As if he didn’t just make you go for a loop in an empty room to strip you of your dignity.

You couldn’t even reply, couldn’t even push him away when he put his hand to your shoulder to lead you back into the elevator. Your pulse still hasn’t settled, skin still tingling where his hand was, but you weren’t going to complain now you were about to go back to normalcy.

“You did well,” he said softly as the elevator doors opened back to the floor where his office was. He stepped out, walking away as if nothing had happened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watched as he walked away, frozen where he placed you in the elevator. Whatever happened back there felt like a fever dream, and you still haven’t woken up. On the outside, nothing felt out of place but on the inside, something shifted because before, you were just afraid of seeing him kill someone.

But now? You were afraid of him.

Mingi didn’t stop there. There were little instances here and there, not much to alarm you, but enough to put you on edge. It’s been a little over a month by then. The dread never left, not even the hefty paycheque you received was enough to ease that paranoia beneath your skin. You still didn’t see him often and so far, he technically hasn’t bothered you or done anything. 

But when he did do something, it was when you were the most ill-prepared; like a demon waiting for you to fall asleep before infiltrating your dreams and terrorising you when you least expected it, and by the time you realised he was there, you would have already been too paralysed to stop him.

It started small, as if he was testing how far he could go before you noticed, like giving you the wrong files to translate. Or that one time he turned on his obnoxiously bright desk lamp and pointed it on your face while you worked.

“Something bothering you, love?” Mingi asked, almost innocently, as if he wasn’t currently adjusting the lamp to beam it directly in your eyes, his tongue sticking out of lips a little in concentration. “You seem a little distracted.”

You felt your eyes tick, not because you’ve been forcing them wide open and pretending that lights weren’t bothering you, but because you were annoyed at the audacity of this man and his ability to get away with anything - all because he thinks you couldn’t see him. Black spots began to dance behind your eyes, the telltale signs of a debilitating migraine beginning to creep up your temples as the ache came in throbbing waves.

“Everything’s fine,” you let out weakly.

Mingi hummed softly at that, his fingers deftly clicking the lamp to amp it up to its maximum brightness. You had to dig your nails painfully in your palms to stop yourself from blinking as your vision burned, but still, you could see the smugness in his features, all while his eyes watched you. “Carry on,” was all he said after.

And then nothing after that for days, but that was the problem, because he would do them so randomly and sporadically that when you thought you were in the clear, you really weren’t. If Mingi was feeling especially heinous, he’d sometimes move your computer files and hide them in different folders, which would be already difficult for abled people, let alone for someone who is especially visually challenged. You’d just grit your teeth and move forward, all while his sharp, menacing shadow towered over you.

“Just call me whenever you need something, alright?” Jongho kindly handed you back the laptop after finding the right files for you and one day Mingi moved them. He let out a confused hum. “Perhaps we could ask Mr. Song to fix your laptop. It’s been acting up more than usual.”

You let out a nervous laugh. Jongho raised a brow, but decided not to say anything. The two of you had gotten closer over the following weeks and he’s honestly been your saving grace in times like these. He was a sweetheart, always offering to buy you lunch or drive you home whenever he could. It was times like these where you genuinely felt bad for lying to him.

But Jongho can’t possibly help you with everything. One thing Mingi was consistent about, however, was his work ethics. Mingi let out a sharp sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while his other hand drummed against the table.

“You think this is good enough, Y/N?” He asked, tone flat and unimpressed. He was strict, very much so, to the point that there were times where you were afraid to submit your proposals to him. “No. Actually, let me rephrase that.” 

He shuts the laptop off, eyes lifting to you, his back straightening against his chair. “Did you even read this before sending them to me? Or did you honestly think I just sign off every paperwork that gets sent my way without checking them for marginal errors?”

Your throat tightened. Mingi wasn’t loud when he was upset. Even when he tested your sanity with his stupid games, Mingi never compromised when it came to work. “My apologies, I’ll revise it as soon as possible,” you assured.

“I know you tried your best,” he crossed his arms. “But that’s exactly what makes it disappointing. I’ll let this slide. Go home. Yunho will finish this mess.”

Surprise crosses your features and you opened your mouth to argue, but decided against it. Not when his eyes left no room for debate. It wasn’t personal, but the brutal honesty in which he laid his expectations landed on your chest hard, and the worst part? He was usually right.

Soon, Mingi began taking you to meet important people like he said he would before he hired you. If Mingi was intimidating in the confines of his office, then he was downright terrifying around the people he did business with to the point that you had no idea how he was able to stay up top as long as he did. Hongjoong laughed when you spoke your thoughts out loud.

“It’s not just him,” he said, gently leading you inside one of the private rooms in the upscale restaurant. “You have to constantly one up everyone because they will not hesitate to bury you in this business, Y/N. Mingi just so happens to be the best at what he does.”

And you understood why. You saw how even those older than him with far more power and experience measured their words around him before saying them. Mingi just had this uncanny ability to dismantle people. Today, you sat next to Hongjoong while Mingi sat to your right, listening intently to you as you translated in real time, voice smooth and professional.

“This is preposterous,” the overseas investor from China scoffed at you, his confidence slipping the longer Mingi remained expressionless. “Tell Mr. Song here that I have a proposition.”

Indeed, he did, by giving a lower number - a number so low that even you knew that no sane businessman would take it seriously. You were visibly taken aback, pausing for a beat too long that Hongjoong had to nudge your foot with his subtly under the table. You swallowed nervously, already knowing that Mingi was going to hate this.

And he did. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing for a split second before he neutralised his expression. He doesn’t speak yet, just pouring liquor into his shot glass. “Salud,” he cheered, lifting the glass up towards the investor who just spoke. “This one’s especially for you, fucker.”

Your head whips towards him, that smile on his face that you knew screamed danger flashing brightly as he downed his drink, followed by the merry cheers of the foreign nationals who were none wiser that they were getting cursed right in front of their faces. 

It was the first time you’ve ever heard Mingi curse, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. He was always so proper and composed and that anything outside of that realm bothered you more than it should’ve because you didn’t know which one was the character he was choosing to play in front of you versus the entire world. As if things couldn’t get worse, a thin trail of liquor slipped from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his sharp jaw down to his throat.

Warmth bloomed dangerously low in your stomach, but thankfully - or, perhaps, not - that heat vanished from your body when he spoke his next words. “Tell him,” Mingi said calmly. “That I can see why people stopped explaining things around him, that I envy people who would never hear how much of an imbecile he and his ideas are. If he wants to rob KQ that badly, at least haggle like a man. I’ve seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investor blinked at you expectantly, unaware, and beside you, Hongjoong went unnaturally still, but all you could do was freeze. You wanted to reword it, to soften the blow, but you must have hesitated for far too long because Mingi turned to you, his eyes cold and expectant.

“Well?” Mingi demanded, impatience creeping into his tone. “Word for word, Y/N. I want to hear it.”

Your throat was tight, but you forced yourself to translate, trying your best to not let your voice shake. “H-He says,” you cleared your throat, discomfort crawling up your spine. “That he can see why people stopped explaining things around you. A-And that he envies people who would never hear how much of an imbecile you and your ideas are…”

The investors’ polite expression drops immediately. God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. The embarrassment was too much, every word tasted horribly against your tongue. “If you want to rob KQ so badly,” you spoke, or rather, squeaked. “Haggle like a man because he’s seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investors’ darkened faces stared at you in disbelief for a second before all hell broke loose. Slurs and curses were thrown all over the place, but all you could focus on were Mingi’s eyes on you and the small, satisfied smile on his face. And then it hits you. Provoking these investors wasn’t his only target.

Making you sit there and deliver those words for him amused him far more. You watched as his eyes landed on your ears, the tips of them red from the sheer secondhand embarrassment, and a faint smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Well, that went terrific,” Hongjoong sarcastically let out as the three of you walked out of the restaurant, side-eyeing Mingi with intent while he helped you walk out, hands still as gentle as when he guided you in earlier.

You chose not to say anything, opting to stare blankly forward to keep up the act, periodically squeezing Hongjoong’s arm when you’d hit a bump or two. Mingi just smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes, walking as if he didn’t just botch an entire business transaction by letting his intrusive thoughts win.

“I don’t know, I’d say that went pretty well,” he shrugged, his indifference evident as he opened his car door, pausing to stare at the both of you. “Meet me back at the office. I reckon Seonghwa will have a field day after this. You tell him.”

You barely stopped yourself from raising a brow. Hongjoong stiffens under your touch, an unimpressed frown crossing his face, eyes narrowing with obvious annoyance. “Wait, why me? Do I really have to?”

“Yes. You’re my assistant, after all,” Mingi replied without missing a beat. He let out a condescending smile when Hongjoong’s eyes twitched. “Relax. He has a soft spot for you.”

Hongjoong was about to retort when Mingi gave him a look - a look that had Hongjoong pausing, glancing carefully at you as if he just remembered that they weren’t alone - before the shorter man rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning to lead you away. “Anyway, I’ll drive Y/N—”

“No,” Mingi interjected. “I’ll do it. Put her in.”

Without waiting for a reply, he gets in his car. And that was how you found yourself in the passenger’s seat of your boss’ car, stiff as a board, staring at the distance not to pretend to unsee, but simply because you couldn’t bear to acknowledge how close Mingi was. “A-Are we not leaving yet?” You couldn’t help but blurt out, not being able to take the awkward silence hanging between the two of you.

“I’m waiting for you,” he murmured.

You frowned, confused. “M-Me? For what?”

“Mhhm,” he hummed. Your stomach churned at how it echoed in your ear. It was a low rumble, warm and smooth like lullabies of despair seducing you in, but you willed it away. “Your seatbelt, sweet pea. I can’t drive without you wearing it.”

Oh, this was dangerous. The way he said it was quiet enough to feel intimate, yet teasing enough to make your pulse skip. Unhurried, you shakily reached for the seatbelt, careful to maintain that blind, dead look in your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to grasp it. Mingi chuckled and the next thing you knew, he was leaning in, reaching for your seatbelt, himself.

A whimper of surprise leaves your lips before you could stop it. His face hovers inches over yours as he clicks the belt into place. He was close, too close, and you thought he was going to lean back, but no. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even seem fazed; he just stares. And you didn’t dare breathe against this intentional proximity that he put the both of you in.

You didn’t even realise that his hand was on your thigh until he gave it a small squeeze, and once again, your stomach churns, but this time, it was with an intensity that made you want to throw up. And all you could do was stare in between his eyebrows, pretending that you were seeing through him instead of at him.

“Funny how we keep finding ourselves in this situation,” he mused in a quiet whisper, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Almost as if we were meant to be here.”

Your brows twitch, not knowing what he was referring to. And then it hits you. Hard. This was the exact position and the exact closeness you had with Mingi that day in the forest. Face to face, his dark eyes dissecting you with that horrifying scrutiny before he wiped that blood that accidentally found its way onto your face. “I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“You should relax around me more,” he murmured, tucking a piece of hair obscuring your face behind your ears with so much gentleness that you wanted to scream. “You’re always so tense.”

And then, without warning, he finally leaned back into his seat. The loss of pressure was so sudden that it made your chest ache even further. He started the car, casually driving as if he didn’t just psychologically terrorise you.

But that was fine, you could handle these because they didn’t necessarily hurt you. All you had to do was ignore Mingi and go on still pretending you couldn’t see everything that he was doing. And you knew he was a psycho, but clearly, he’d been holding himself back.

Mingi drove silently, posture relaxed like nothing was wrong. Eventually, he slowed down, eventually stopping when at a red light. It was the busy intersection that was a couple of blocks away from KQ and you couldn’t wait to get the hell away from this man. But when the lights changed to green, Mingi didn’t move. “We’re here,” he said.

Your stomach dropped, taken aback by what he just said. “Here? A-At the office?”

“Mhhm. Where else?”

It was that same low, intimate hum. Your ears rang amidst the busy traffic all around, the honks of the cars behind you, and the buzzing of cars from multiple directions. “Go ahead. Your friend, Jongho, is waiting for you by the door,” he said.

His words slithered coldly up your spine. No, you thought dreadfully. He wouldn’t. But you knew better. You were in the middle of an intersection. You could see that the lights were red again, but the moment those lights turned back to green, there was a high chance that you would get hit. The thought alone made your vision double, and beside you, Mingi patiently waited, staring at you to see what you were going to do.

Panic clawed up your throat. You grabbed your walking cane and started pushing the door open, because refusing without any valid reason would completely blow your cover away. And then, divine intervention - Mingi’s phone started to ring. The sound of it made the both of you pause. From your peripheral vision, you could briefly see the name of the caller. It was Hongjoong. Mingi’s eyes were still on you, specifically on your hand that held the door handle.

He let out an exhale, as if disappointed that you couldn’t step out into moving traffic.“Close the door, love,” he murmured. “I’ll park at the other entrance. It’s dangerous here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You slammed that door shut so hard that the entire car rattled with force. Mingi’s lips twitched with a small smile, staring at you for one more second before he finally picked up the call. He wasn’t relieved that you were safe nor was he shaken that you could’ve been hit by a car right in front of his eyes. 

No, Mingi was steady and unbothered. Interested, even, like his stakes had just gone up and he just realised that the possibilities were endless for him so long as you played for him.

Mingi didn’t even wait a week to test that theory out. It was, by far, the worst he’s done not because of what he did, but because of how bold and brazen his acts were becoming. You were working with Seonghwa in your usual spot in his office, but this time, Jongho was also here. He was today’s representative from his department for the monthly report. Then, in comes Yunho, bringing with him cups and a thermos before leaving. It was fresh tea; you could see the steam in your peripheral vision as Jongho poured the boiling hot water into the cups.

You didn’t think much when Mingi walked over to where you and Seonghwa were, placing two cups at the table. This wasn’t out of the norm, Mingi had always treated you well when there were people around for show, but clearly, you’ve been giving this man more credit than he deserved.

“I ordered everyone iced tea from the café across the building,” he whispered silently, only enough for you to hear. “It’s in front of you. Drink it before the ice melts and dilutes it.”

Panic seized your chest so bad that your lungs were burning from how carefully you were trying to control every breath you took. Your body reacted instantly by freezing into place. You wanted to gawk at the audacity of this man because now he was deliberately playing with you right in the presence of other people.

You forced your eyes to dull further as you nodded stiffly while being at a loss for what to do. You knew this man was cunning, but this was insane. If you grabbed the cup properly, that would give away that you could see. If you grab it clumsily, you’d burn your hand with boiling hot tea. If you give any sort of excuses to not drink it, you were done. 

You could feel his eyes on you, sharpening at every second you hesitated to grab the cup. Swallowing, your hands began to jut forward, thinking of a way to touch it without reacting somehow or at least minimise the pain you were about to feel when you burned yourself.

“Ah ah, sweetie,” Seonghwa’s gentle voice cut, intercepting you by guiding your hand away from the cup. “That’s, uh, bland. I’ll be back, I’ll get us some lemons to go with the…iced tea.” 

Mingi merely raised a brow, watching as Seonghwa got up and left the room. He shrugged, not sparing you a glance before he walked back to Jongho, who was still none the wiser as he sipped on his own tea, engrossed in the paperwork Mingi gave him. 

Seonghwa reappeared a minute later, quietly removing the cup of hot tea before replacing it with something actually cold. You had no idea where he got it, but you didn’t dare question it as your trembling fingers wrapped around the cold drink. Through your peripheral vision, you caught the way Seonghwa stared at Mingi.

And you were surprised at how angry he was. The look he gave Mingi was so scathing, more scalding hot than the tea you almost burned yourself with, that it sent more shivers up your spine. You had no idea that someone as gentle as Seonghwa was even capable of such look. Mingi smirked back sardonically, tilting his head mockingly before his eyes set to you.

His eyes stared you down as he sipped his own tea with no particular expression on his face. But his eyes, they looked alive; alive because every second of watching you endure him fed something inexplicably insatiable inside him.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

Your lips twitched as you forced a smile on your lips, your arms tightening around the laptop you held close to your chest. “I-I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Jung. I’ve been told as such before…”

Mingi didn’t react, not even bothering to look away from his laptop. Though from your peripheral vision, you saw him gaze at you for a few short seconds before letting out a small smile. It was the exact same thing he told you when he interviewed you a few months ago.

Today’s work was a bit different. You were used to leaving to meet up with potential clients and even going as far as traveling outside the country - something you would’ve enjoyed had you had more freedom to move since Mingi used his private jet and he was extremely generous with you and your expenses abroad. But today, KQ would be the meet-up point.

Yesterday, Mingi’s longtime friend, Jung Wooyoung, who also happened to be an investor, owed another company a favour and wanted some connections with KQ. You were surprised since Mingi hated short notices, but judging by the lecherous smirk on his face after that phone call, you’d say he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to look forward to it.

You tried not to squirm at the way Wooyoung stared at you through those sharp eyes of his. It wasn’t salacious, by all means, but it was extremely intrusive, like he was trying to read you from the inside out. It was unsettling, and you didn’t know how to avoid it, especially not when his hand started to play with your hair.

“I’m just teasing,” he chuckled. He gives Mingi a meaningful look before turning his attention back at you. “I’m just wondering what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this, is all.”

The snap of a laptop being deliberately shut off is what got Wooyoung to momentarily stop playing with your hair.. Across the room, Mingi had already stood up, walking towards the corner of the office where he had a mini bar set up.

"There are birds that survive storms, Jung,” he murmured, pausing to pour brandy in his glass, swirling it slowly before taking a leisurely sip. “But they rarely survive entering another bird's nest."

You frowned, not really understanding the meaning or intent of what he just said. He sounded so nonchalant - uninterested, even - but the way his eyes bore into Wooyoung through his lashes had the latter blinking before stepping away, hands up in the air with mock surrender as a disbelieving laugh left his lips.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wooyoung chuckled. “If I didn’t know you I’d have assumed that you preferred your birds to be made out of fine china, Song.”

Mingi just hummed. Wooyoung scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “So, uh,” he pointed at the brandy Mingi was sipping on. “Are you gonna pour me one?”

“No,” Mingi deadpanned, putting the empty glass down before walking back to his desk. “As I recall, your hands were working perfectly fine earlier. Now, these,” he paused, pointing at the box Wooyoung had brought with him when he arrived. “What are these?”

“That? Oh,” Wooyoung shrugged as he helped himself to a drink. “Premium cherries straight from Japan. Heard that Mr. Yamada was very fond of them, which he better fucking like them because these cost me a pretty penny.” 

“I see,” Mingi murmured. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “Little doll?”

You were a bit startled at his sudden attention to you. “Y-Yes?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated, not fully sure what Mingi wanted. Ever since that tea incident, you’ve become more wary of him - more terrified since clearly, an audience was never going to stop him. However, that hesitance must’ve come off as helplessness because you saw Wooyoung’s eyes lit into recognition, immediately leaping to action to guide you by the arm towards Mingi.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to taste test them?” Wooyoung asked casually, raising a brow as Mingi opened the box, revealing the most perfect cherries you have ever seen in your life. You had to make an effort not to drool at the sight. Pretending you couldn’t see them was sad.

Even Mingi was impressed as he let out a soft hum. “Mr. Yamada doesn’t deserve a whole box.”

Wooyoung barked out a laugh as he returned back to the mini bar, leaning against it. “Yeah, I told him you despised tardiness. Even I’m getting pissed that he’s still not here.”

“Anyway,” he continued after taking a quiet sip of brandy. “Will Yunho assist you during the meeting? I didn’t see him in the lobby earlier.”

“Yunho isn’t needed. What I need is my translator,” he answered, eyes lifting up to you slowly. “And she’s right in front of me.”

The way he said it made your stomach tighten. Wooyoung paused, the surprise visible across his entire face. “Your what?” He asked, opening his mouth to say something again. “But—”

“Cherries are supposed to be off-season in Japan right now,” Mingi interrupted smoothly, taking one from the box carefully. “I’m surprised you even got your slimy hands on one box.”

Thick silence enveloped the entire room for a moment longer than what you deemed comfortable. Sometimes, you underestimated how tiring it was to feign sight - to stare at one space and pretend that the world wasn’t moving around you while you tried not to openly make eye contact with anyone because that’ll give you away instantly.

Then, Mingi’s gaze settles onto you. “Have you ever tried one of these?”

You frowned at the random question. “Cherries? Yes. The premium kind? Never.”

Mingi doesn’t respond, only humming in affirmation. Then, slowly, he lifted the cherry to his mouth. You ceased breathing then and there, barely stopping your knees from buckling under the weight of his stare. Heat crept up from your neck all the way to your ears as you watched his thick lips slowly envelope the red cherry with his saliva.

His eyes never left you as his tongue deliberately dragged against it, flicking the fruit left and right before he pulled the stem off with his teeth. It was unhurried and intentional, extremely obscene in the way he licked it with every second that passed between the two of you. Wooyoung could only watch, mouth parted, eyes comically wide in disbelief, but Mingi paid him no mind.

Instead, he leaned forward, plucking the cherry out from his lips to hold it towards your lips. “Open your mouth, love,” he murmured. “Try it.”

The initial disgust almost overpowered you, but refusing wasn’t an option. Reluctantly, you parted your lips to accept the cherry into your mouth. Across the room, Wooyoung let out the strangest little sound.

“Wait—” he squeaked, reaching his hand out instinctively, but it was too late. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, biting into his fists, visibly cringing at the inappropriateness.

All you felt was the instantaneous heat that spread through your body. Sweetness automatically burst into your mouth, but underneath that was an undertone that didn’t belong in cherries - mint. The taste hit you so hard that your stomach flipped. It was the same scent you always caught on Mingi’s breath whenever he got too close, which happened more often than not.

Mingi didn’t react - at least, not in the usual way he did. The smirk that was always plastered on his face whenever he did something heinous was missing and the amusement that always danced in his eyes was absent. Instead, his eyes were dark, gaze heavy with intent as something unreadable settled over his features.

It was almost possessive in a way that made your skin crawl, and somehow, that terrified you more than anything he’s ever done. “Good girl,” he whispered quietly, so quietly that you weren’t sure if you were even meant to hear it even though you knew it was for you.

The meeting did not go well. It wasn’t because Mingi had somehow screwed it up on purpose or the client lowballing him enough to make him angry - on the contrary, the meeting went terrific. No, the meeting went horribly for you, specifically, because Mingi kicked you out. Hongjoong was also present but he could tell something was amiss when he came in. Unfortunately, he was smart enough to go to Wooyoung, who had no problem whispering to him what just went down with you and Mingi. Hongjoong’s disgusted, but not surprised, expression was enough to make you want to disappear. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mr. Yamada was a raging pervert the entire time. He leered at you the entire time like he was undressing you and the discomfort made it difficult to stay still.

“You’re a beautiful thing, aren’t you?” He grinned, licking his lips in a way that made your stomach churn. “Does Mingi have a thing for hiring pretty translators?”

“T-Thank you,” you forced a smile. “Uhm, about the investments—”

“It’s too bad you’re blind, but I don’t mind. Why don’t you work with me, instead? I can already tell that Mingi doesn’t spoil you properly.” 

Your stomach churned further when he leaned back on his seat, eyes dragging all over you in ways that felt violating. But everybody’s eyes were on you, waiting for you to translate everything despite the way your body stiffened at every malicious stare this man gave you.

“You need better clothes, not these shabby ones,” he stated shamelessly, eyes dipping lower. “And those legs,” he paused to exhale through his nose. “Mingi’s an idiot. If you were with me, I’d dress you up nice to show off this delicate figure of yours…”

It was when his hand started to move to touch you did you actually panic. Suddenly, papers scattered all over the floor near you, making everybody pause. “Oh, geez,” Hongjoong muttered flatly, not even apologetic. “Terribly clumsy today, aren’t we, Jung?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung raised one brow as he stared at the Japanese pervert. “Yes, we are, Kim.”

Hongjoong crouched down to gather the papers, but not before shooting Mr. Yamada a look so cold that it had the older man withdrawing his hands. It was then that you released a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding in.

“Y/N.”

Your spine straightened instantly. That was Mingi. Your stomach dropped because you just realised that all throughout this, he had completely remained silent. “Y-Yes?”

“You’re dismissed.”

You paled. “M-Mingi,” you blurted out in surprise. As much as possible, you tried not to say his name in professional settings even though he allowed you to.  “I didn’t do anything, I swear—”

Mingi gave you a look that made your mouth shut immediately. “I won’t say it twice.”

And that’s how you found yourself walking out of the building with your thoughts spiraling in every direction. At least it was nighttime, you told yourself, sighing as you waited for the elevator. Pretty much all the employees have left and that meant that you didn’t have to stumble around pretending you couldn’t find your way out. For once, you could simply walk normally.

But as you were about to push the door open to leave, you cursed. You left some documents behind, ones you wanted to take home to work on since the deadline was in two days. Suppressing a groan, you begrudgingly turned around to go back to Mingi’s office, already dreading how embarrassing it was going to be.

That embarrassment soon transformed into utter shock when you heard a loud bang when you got to the office floor. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widened at how that sound exploded across the empty hallway. No, that can’t be, you thought. But there was no denying it - you knew that sound intimately.

You ran towards the sound before your brain could catch up, stunned at how you ended up right in front of Mingi’s office. The door was slightly ajar, just enough where you could peek in without being seen. You barely stopped the gasp from your lips as you covered your mouth in horror. There, on the couch, lay Mr. Yamada with his head hung at an unnatural angle. Standing over his body was Mingi, gun hung loosely in his hand, face speckled with blood. Your stomach lurched violently, because once again, you were looking at a murderer. Lucky for you this time, he didn’t know you were here. But you, you could see him. You could see how blank his expression was, like he didn’t just casually take another life like it was nothing.

“You out of your fucking mind or something?” Hongjoong asked with one brow raised, his voice breaking the silence that seemed to temporarily make everybody’s world stop for a second.

Mingi merely scoffed and Wooyoung barked out a laugh so hearty, it was almost contagious. “Jesus Christ, Mingi,” he snorted, walking away from the window towards the dead body, nudging the foot with his own. “Can’t believe this is how this old bastard went. Good riddance.”

You felt your knees weaken. No one looked shocked or even sick at the sight of a man getting shot and actively bleeding out against the couch. “Really, Mingi? This was supposed to be a null zone,” Hongjoong sighed, more inconvenienced than disturbed. “You couldn’t wait a few more days? Or, at the very least, get out of here?”

“For what? I’ve been meaning to off the bastard anyway,” Mingi paused to nudge Mr. Yamada’s shoulder with the gun muzzle. “He’s been on the shit list for a while, couldn’t really let the opportunity slip away.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with him eye fucking your translator now, would it?”

Your hand trembled violently against your mouth at the mere mention of you. Mingi plops down the couch, producing a cigarette and lighter out of nowhere. “Nuances,” he mumbled, exhaling smoke rings from his mouth up in the air. “I hate perverts, anyway. They’re very bad for society.”

The absurdity of that made you want to choke. Across the room, Wooyoung lets out another laugh. “Ah, yes. Because fuckers like you are the backbone of society,” he snorted, shamelessly opening the box of cherries to pop one in his mouth. “Anyway, why are you keeping her?”

Mingi doesn’t answer right away, inhaling another slow drag before exhaling. “I already told you why,” he replied, flicking the ash into a crystal tray. “The trail. I need to keep a close eye on her.”

Your heart stopped, coldness washing over your body. He knew. He’s always known. To be fair, if you recognised him immediately months ago, Mingi wasn’t a fool to not recognise you either, but hearing it made it ten times worse than it already was. Hongjoong immediately frowns. “Fuck’s sake, Mingi. She’s blind.”

That made Mingi pause. He turns his head, eyes darkened into something you’ve never seen before, one that made bile rise up your throat. “Is that supposed to mean anything?” 

“Song Mingi,” Hongjoong hissed. “There are rules to this—”

“Kim Hongjoong. Don’t test me, I may be in a good mood, but I’m warning you,” Mingi stated. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His voice never rose, but something about it made your skin prickle. “Rules are suggestions until I deem them otherwise.” Heavy and uncomfortable silence followed. It was a subtle threat, one that made you understand why Mingi was to be feared in the first place. Mingi leaned back against the couch, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong, unblinking and calculated. The corners of his mouth twitched when Hongjoong sighed before looking away in exasperation.

Wooyoung tossed another cherry stem onto the table. “Christ,” he muttered. “She’s of no use to you, just let her go, you sadist.”

“Mhhm,” Mingi hummed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Sorry,” he said. “Can’t do it.”

“Can’t?” Wooyoung echoed, eyes narrowed knowingly. “Or won’t? Does Yeosang even know?”

Mingi didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. Instead, he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe all the blood off of him. “Clean this up,” he ordered, standing up to adjust his sleeves. “I don’t give a fuck what Yeosang thinks. I’ll bust his head open if he has a problem with it. Anyway, I need a favour.”

“Don’t bother. He already knows and he’s not happy,” Hongjoong scoffed, gesturing towards Mr. Yamada. “What’s more important than dragging this piece of shit out here without being seen?”

“Of course he does, he’s Kang fucking Yeosang,” he snarled, tossing the bloodied cloth onto the corpse’s chest without a care in the world. “Go to the mall. You’re going shopping.”

You didn’t stay further, running to the exit as quietly and as fast as you can. By the time you reached the exit, your stomach gave out entirely, barely making it to the sidewalk before dropping to your knees and proceeding to vomit out everything you ate. Tears blurred your vision, your entire body shook, but the bile still burned your throat.

When you were done, you pulled out your phone, your trembling fingers barely able to dial the person you needed the most. “S-Sannie?” You squeaked when he picked up on the first ring, not being able to hold your tears any longer. “Can you pick me up from work?”

You didn’t know how you were going to return to work today pretending that everything was fine. You’ve thought about it over the weekend, drunk out of your mind with San convincing you to just quit at that point. He wasn’t wrong; you were working in a den full of monsters. But you knew there was no point - if Mingi found you once, he would find you again just as easily.

You were expecting to see Seonghwa or Mingi, himself, but to your surprise, there was no one, which was odd because you knew Mingi always arrived before anyone else. A part of you was relieved because you had no idea how you'd face Mingi but another part of you wanted to throw up because the office was pristine, no traces of anything heinous occurring at all.

A thought crosses your mind - would you be crazy if you tried to find some proof of Mingi's illicit affairs? You contemplated it. You couldn't pretend to be blind forever, it was getting harder because your emotions were getting difficult to contain, but you needed leverage in case he tried to do something to you - in case he decided that you weren’t worth keeping anymore.

With nothing to lose, you started rummaging through his drawers, careful not to mess anything up. The first few ones rendered nothing, until you got to the very bottom. There was only one folder in there. You frowned, picking it up and inspecting it. It was plain black with no company logo on it or any department, but it did have a label on it.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, and beneath it were the letters, K.O.S. Your brows furrowed, what the hell does that even mean? Opening it made less sense. Inside were names and dates, some of them crossed out, but before you could try to understand what this all meant, you heard voices right outside by the door.

“Hongjoong has sordid taste,” Seonghwa’s familiar voice stated. Your blood runs cold, nearly dropping the folder. “Christ, do I have to do everything around here? Promote me or something.”

As if things weren’t bad enough, you heard Mingi let out a short unimpressed sound. “Says you. Anyway, are you going home?” He asked, changing the subject.

You scrambled to put everything back into place, barely reaching the couch to sit on it as if you weren’t just snooping. “No,” Seonghwa scoffed as he pushed the doors open. “I have the gala to arrange—oh, Y/N, good morning,” he greeted warmly with a smile that always eased you.

But Mingi did not. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, assessing you more than usual, or was that your paranoia talking? Maybe not, especially when his eyes settled on his desk, then back at you. Your pulse climbed to your throat when Mingi shook his head, almost affectionately, a small smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth.

You thought he was going to say something about it, but instead, he turned to Seonghwa, relieving him of the several shopping bags hanging from his arm. “Wait, not this,” Seonghwa said, taking the smallest one before approaching you.

“Here,” he smiled, placing the bag on the couch beside you. “I stopped by that bakery we talked about one time and got reminded of you. I hope you like them, they’re just an assortment of pastries.”

Your eyes lit in surprise, touched that he even remembered such mundane information. “Seonghwa,” you said, heart squeezing in regret that you couldn’t express your thanks properly since you still had to pretend you were blind. “Thank you, really.”

Unfortunately, he had to leave after. Seonghwa had always been very kind to you, always sincere with his words and never tried to dupe you because you were ‘blind.’ The problem was, now you were alone with Mingi in the room. Nothing ever good came with being alone with Mingi.

For a moment, he simply observed you, but he, too, probably felt the weight of the silence. “You won’t be doing your usual work today,” he said.

You blinked, not expecting that at all. “What am I doing, then?”

Instead of replying, Mingi walks towards you and sets the bags down. You stiffened, the closer he got, the harder it became to control your expressions, and when his fingers gently closed around yours, your heart took a massive leap. He guided your hand forward, letting your fingertips brush against the bags. By the time he stopped, you counted no less than fifteen.

You gulped. No wonder Seonghwa looked so ready to drop them the moment he saw fit. “W-What am I touching?” You asked carefully, pretending you couldn’t see some of them - different arrays of clothes, all feminine, and all just about your perfect sizing.

“Clothes, lots of them,” he said, dropping your hand. “They’re all yours, precious.”

You stared blankly ahead. For a second, you genuinely thought he’d lost his mind. He sighed, nudging one of the bags with his foot. “There’s the annual gala tonight,” he began. “There will be a lot of future investors, clients, all that jazz. Then, the next day we have a short conference and an after party, so we’ll be staying in the hotel like last time. I already booked your room.”

“Okay?” You drawled, not quite getting what he was trying to insinuate.

His brows arched. “Okay?” He repeated, the mocking repetition making you want to slam one of the bags to his handsome face. “You’re coming with me. I kind of need you to translate.”

“No, I got that part,” you said, trying not to roll your eyes. “What I’m trying to understand is the excessive amount of clothes for one night.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t mad, rather, he looked more offended than anything which was puzzling to you. “Excessive, you say? I think I can determine that, myself.”

“I...understand,” you said slowly. “It’s still too much. There’s no less than fifteen bags, Mingi.”

“And?” He raised an annoyed brow like you were insulting him by just pointing that out.

You blinked, opening your mouth before closing it, and then trying again. “It’s one night.”

“And?”

That shut you up. That one was sharper, his tone getting more pointed and snappier. You could see his patience visibly thinning by how his eyes have darkened. “Mingi,” you sighed. “Nobody needs this much for one night.”

A humourless chuckle escaped him. Shaking his head, he leans by the nearby desk, crossing his arms. “You seem to be under the impression that everything in there is just for tonight,” he pointed out. “There’s a variety of stuff in there. Dresses, work clothes, shoes, et cetera.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the quiet between you two stretching thin. These weren’t just bags anymore, they were a deliberate purchase catered especially for you. That was the part that bothered you more than the quantity - that Mingi bought all of these just for you. It felt like chaotic indulgence, and underneath the uncertainty, was something inside your chest that started forming, something your traitorous heart was getting harder to ignore.

“I can’t accept these, then,” you said firmly, deciding to stand your ground. 

That was not an answer he was expecting. You could tell you said the wrong words when something flashed across his face, gone so quickly you almost missed it. “Can’t?” He asked calmly, a little too calm than you liked. “What do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, thinking of what to say without aggravating him. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, precious,” Mingi cocked his head with a smile. It was thin, dangerously thin. “Please elaborate, Y/N. I must insist.”

You shifted uncomfortably, not willing to tell him the truth. You didn’t want to owe him, didn’t want anything tying you closer to him than you already were. You wanted distance and an escape route; a future where Song Mingi wasn’t going to be involved, and that included reminders of him even if it was the littlest of things.

Your silence was ticking him off. Mingi’s jaw flexed, it was barely noticeable, but enough to tell that you were beginning to irritate him. “I rest my case, then. I don’t see an issue with—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “This is ridiculous, Mingi—”

“Love.”

Now that actually shuts you up. The way he said it made it sound less like a nickname and more like a warning by the slight edge in his voice. But you weren’t going to budge even if the fear was slowly washing your resolve away. “I said what I said, Mingi. I can’t take them.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. His expression remained unreadable, but his stare had something darker flickering behind his eyes now. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. You knew this feeling - the one where you’d accidentally stepped on a landmine and were waiting for it to explode.  

And maybe it did, because Mingi went from standing in front of you to his face inches away from yours. The couch dipped when he propped his knee, his entire upper body leaning over you, one hand bracing itself against the back of the couch beside your head, and you? You froze, trapped underneath him with nowhere to go.

You prayed he couldn’t hear how hard your stupid heart was thumping. He was close, far too close. His cologne immediately envelops you, and you hated it. Hated the fact that despite knowing exactly what kind of person Mingi was, your body automatically reacted to his presence. “U-Uhm,” you stammered like an idiot. “I don’t think—”

“You’re right, you don’t think,” he whispered, tone casual. “Because you seemed perfectly capable of accepting Seonghwa’s pastries earlier. You didn’t even have to think about it.”

That statement hit you so unexpectedly hard that you had to blink owlishly, mouth opening agape in disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t so casual about it, after all. For some reason, that statement carried a bit of a bite to it, a bitterness that felt entirely out of place for someone of Mingi’s personality as far as you’re concerned.

“B-But,” you stuttered, not really knowing what to say, before you cleared your throat. “That’s different,” you reasoned, gesturing to the bags. “That’s…different.”

“Is it?” Mingi asked, somehow looking more irritated even if his face was expressionless. Then, his other hand moved to your waist, his fingers deliberately settling themselves onto your skin through your clothes. “Tell me, then. I want to hear it.”

You gulped, body tensing in a way that you were positive he felt judging by the faint smile on his face. You hated the way your stomach tightened, hated how every nerve ending in your body suddenly became alive, hated even more how natural this all was to him as though he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. It was getting difficult to breathe and you hated him for it. 

It felt like hours being underneath Mingi like this. The hand at your waist didn’t move, and if anything, it felt more and more present like a constant reminder of how easily he could invade your space if he really wanted to. “Look me in the eye,” he murmured, voice low and gruff.

You lifted your head, freezing at the last second. He almost got you there. You lifted your head, deliberately staring at something else like a blind person would. Mingi was still waiting, a small smirk on his face. “Wrong direction, doll. That’s my neck,” he chuckled in amusement. “Higher.”

A wave of humiliation ripples through you when you realised that you were, indeed, staring at his neck. But, you’d be damned if you looked him in the eye, so you settled on his lips. But that soon turned into panic when his hand started to travel up your waist. “No,” he murmured. “Higher.”

The moment he said that, his hand moved slightly higher as well. It makes your breath catch, your throat locking at how tense you felt. Your eyes flicker hesitantly, lifting up to his nose this time. “Higher, baby doll,” he repeated, voice going even deeper and rougher. “Higher.”

Something in him changed. It was subtle in the way his eyes cast a dark shadow over it, his breath getting shallower as his hand glided further up. A faint exhale escapes him, and you stop the squeak that almost left you when he bit his bottom lip lightly. Your eyes didn’t move, but his hand kept going higher and higher, right below your breasts.

Panic settled in and before you could think of your mistake and the consequences of it, you looked him straight in the eye like he asked, your eyes clearly holding fright as you stared at him. Mingi’s hand stops exactly on the curve of your tit, a couple of inches below your nipple. The both of you stared at each other for a long moment; a predator studying prey.

You weren’t in the mood to pretend, not right now. Mingi stared at the way your chest heaved up and down, the way your legs instinctively squeezed together. You shuddered at his touch, stifling any damning sounds, but it was when his hard started moving again that you snapped out of the daze.

“Mingi—”, you gasped, aggressively pushing his hand away. 

“What I give you is what you get,” he said, finally leaning away and putting distance between you. “And you’ll find yourself grateful for it.”

The statement hung in the air. It was neither a threat nor a promise, but somehow, that made it worse. At first, your mind reached for the most logical explanation, but maybe this was his way of controlling you in a way that made sense only to him. Your hands flexed at your sides without you noticing.

“You didn’t ask me,” you spoke.

“I didn’t think I had to,” he stated confidently, completely certain of himself. “Pick what to wear from the bags or I will. You don’t want that. The gala starts at seven.”

The gala was no less than glamorous. Everywhere you looked was filled with pretentiousness covered in glitz; polished smiles and conversations disguised as networking when in reality, it was just another ruse for some sort of power play. You hated every bit of it and you could not wait until you were back in your hotel room.

Unfortunately for you, this happened to be exactly the sort of environment where Mingi thrived in and you spent the majority of it being with him. The business itself wasn’t particularly exciting, still, you translated them all for him without complaining - all while resisting the urge to fall asleep in the middle of this bloody ballroom.

The irony wasn’t lost on you, though, because Mingi looked good tonight. Infuriatingly so. The black suit fit him perfectly, tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and long legs, blonde hair pushed back to expose his sharp features that gleamed under the chandelier lights.

The worst part was that he looked like he belonged here. People flocked to him naturally. Sure, his status might have helped, but such was the charisma of one Song Mingi, really.

But despite the growing crowd vying for even a sliver of his attention, Mingi always found a way to pull you back. “Stay here,” he murmured, almost a warning, when you tried to wander off. 

Because God knows you wanted to. You needed to get away from him. The memory of what happened in the office earlier refused to leave your mind, and now, every time he stepped too close, the way his hand brushed your lower back to guide you through the crowd, and every time he leaned in to whisper something, your body immediately remembered.

But none of these surprised you - what actually bothered you was what Mingi wasn’t doing.

Turns out that there are some things that Mingi couldn’t even stand no matter how hard he pretends. Or, perhaps, you were the only one who noticed. Being around the blind makes people reveal themselves especially when they think nobody was there to watch. But you’ve always been here, mainly because Mingi had a thing for keeping you in check.

He hated being here, that much you could tell. Despised it, even. To others, Mingi looked the same, but you knew better. The way his eyes narrowed every time someone tried to talk to him was one thing, but his smirk was hollow and carried no weight, and his responses were beginning to get shorter and shorter as the night went on. 

His patience was wearing thin and that realisation was so fascinating to you. You’ve seen Mingi annoyed, amused, exploit, kill, but one thing you’ve never seen him be was be uncomfortable. The thought immediately makes you snort under your breath, and of course, Mingi notices.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you for a few seconds before he let out a long sigh, fingers slightly loosening his tie. “Do you need anything?”

The question surprised you, but the way he asked it almost created a big riff inside your chest. He wasn’t asking out of inconvenience, he looked like he actually wanted to ask you if you needed something. The thing was, the concern sounded so unnatural for him that you had a hard time conceiving an answer for him.

But you didn’t have to. Mingi was still waiting for an answer when, suddenly, his eyes darkened. The change in his body posture was subtle, but it was there. His back straightened, shoulders squared, and his chin lifted. You were stunned, you’ve never seen him like this before - not for investors, not for clients, and not for people who held twice the amount of power he did.

Someone was approaching and when that newcomer came in your line of view, you immediately understood why. This man looked like he should’ve been in a magazine cover, beautiful in a way that was not even fair. But that wasn’t what made you freeze - it was his eyes. They were cold, but not cold in a way that Mingi’s were. They weren’t sharp or predatory, they were just…cold.

This man was danger wrapped in silk to hide the rot underneath. The way he stood was restrained, his presence already squeezing your chest with unyielding tension. You understood why Mingi immediately tensed the moment he saw him.

“Yeosang,” Mingi greeted with a subtle nod. “Always glad to see you alive despite your efforts.”

You brows furrowed, the name tickling your brain to remember where it had heard it before. Yeosang returns the gesture. “Charmed,” he flatly stated. “My father isn’t happy, Mingi.”

You wanted to choke where you stood. That was it - no smile, no pleasantries, no nothing. Just straight into business. Mingi lightly scoffs, swirling his whiskey once before answering. “I would say that’s unfortunate, but it sounds to me that that’s his problem, and not my own.”

Yeosang stared at him for quite some time before cocking his head slightly. “You tainted the null zone,” he stated, expression unchanged. “Don’t mistake silence for approval. Though I must say, you’ve gotten…creative. I see you’ve also started including variables in your equation.”

The people around you blurred, and you were left stuck between two men who were clearly fighting for the upper hand even though you had no idea what they were talking about. “I aim to please,” Mingi shrugged, though you could see how tense he was. “It’s called adapting.”

Yeosang’s mouth curls into a small sneer. “Adaptable people know where the line is.”

But Mingi wasn’t having it. His eyes narrow into small slits, returning the glare with equal ferocity. “They also know when the line has moved.”

There was a pause, both men refusing to give out as they both stared at each other, communicating between their eyes. The measured silence was louder than all of the mindless chatter and ear-splitting music echoing in the ballroom and the discomfort was slowly creeping into your insides.

“What now?” Yeosang finally said, the taunting clear in his tone.

Mingi took another sip from his glass before setting it onto a passing waiter’s tray without even looking. “What else?” He jabbed in contempt. “I’ll deal with it. Like I always fucking do.”

Something flickered in Yeosang’s eyes, gone within the next second. Of course, Mingi notices. “Don’t even start,” Mingi said lowly, voice hardening. “Everything’s been done accordingly and neatly all within the given timeframe. You and I both know I’ve gone the extra mile way out of my area of responsibility every time. I have never failed. I never will. Not now, not ever.”

Yeosang scoffed. Your stomach begins to churn. Neither of them raised their voices or their fists, but this conversation felt more dangerous than any lingering violence you’ve witnessed. That statement earns the smallest reaction from Mingi. He lifts a brow, an action you knew too well - an action you knew was going to cost the nearest person he set his sights on.

“Is it not? My record says otherwise, Yeosang,” he said, voice sharpening on its edges. “I’ve been cleaning messes since the beginning. Run the reports and my every movement, I don’t care. Nothing’s off, nothing’s missing. So,” Mingi takes one step closer, enough to show that he wasn’t backing down. “Unless your dad has gone senile, then there’s nothing he can reprimand me on. He can talk to me, himself.”

For the first time, Yeosang’s expression shifts. It was subtle, but you could tell it was between disappointment and a warning. His gaze swept imperceptibly through the crowd before settling back on Mingi. There was pause before he finally sighed, his shoulders loosening visibly, eyes taking on something more human in them. “Don’t get too cocky,” he whispered.

A small smirk crosses Mingi’s face as he lets out a small huff. “You and I both know I’m not just someone. And about the…variable,” he said, eyes briefly landing on you before locking eyes with Yeosang once more. “It’s accounted for. But that’s not why you’re here. You didn’t approach me to criticise my methods.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he sets his sights on you, quiet but clinical. “You’re Y/N,” he stated.

You blinked, not expecting to be acknowledged by this beautifully dreadful man. As you were about to open your mouth to respond, for the first time since Yeosang approached, Mingi looked genuinely irritated. His hands suddenly grips your arm. It was neither tight nor gentle, but it was enough where you knew he was making his presence and intentions known.

“She is,” he answered quickly before you even could. Mingi doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but the pressure of his fingers slightly increases, but more than that, you could feel a slight tremble to them. You would even dare go as far as say that his hold felt desperate.

Yeosang’s eyes drop to Mingi’s hand, a slow, knowing smirk ghosting across his lips. But then, his eyes bore straight onto yours and your heart leapt out of your chest, too startled to look away. You immediately dimmed your eyes, hoping he didn’t notice how alert they were, but he kept staring, even slightly tilting his head as his penetrating eyes inspected yours.

“Huh,” he huffed in amusement, his mouth twitching at its corners. He sounded genuinely interested. “I’m impressed. Such tenacity. No wonder you’ve survived for this long.”

Mingi’s jaw shifts, his hold on you tightening once more before relaxing. Yeosang notices, his smile growing wider. “Don’t,” he warned. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Yeosang merely nods, but he all managed but two steps before stopping. You held your breath in anticipation, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to look back, eyes the softest you’ve seen. It wasn’t much, but it was enough where you thought you imagined the other version of him.

He reaches out, hand resting on Mingi’s shoulder, and by how Mingi didn’t flinch, you could tell it was a welcome and familiar gesture; almost comforting and brotherly, even.

Yeosang’s eyes settle on you briefly before he looks away. “I won’t tell if you won’t, Min,” he said quietly. Mingi managed the subtlest nod. Then, Yeosang was already gone. Approaching said table was the only thing left to do at that point.

And it wasn’t a pleasant experience. These people weren’t even predators; they were vultures and bottom feeders, just hovering over the weakest link before they did what they did best. It was revolting, and unfortunately for you, Mingi’s temper wasn’t helping.

He spent the entire time digging his fingers in to make these people bled, hooking in to let the pain fester more. Safe to say that being in the middle of this political fiasco was not for you in the slightest.

“As an outsider, what are your views on intelligence?” Mingi asked lightheartedly, though anybody with common sense can tell that his eyes said otherwise. It was awkward to translate that to the few people who didn’t speak the language, but you had to do it.

“I like how you never let facts get in the way of your opinions,” he whispered under his breath while another investor was explaining his plans for his company. The secondhand embarrassment of seeing the other man’s smile slowly fade and fumble to collect what was left of his social dignity was something you never wanted to witness ever again.

It wasn’t long before they started targeting you. It was to be expected - you were the weakest out of everybody in this table, the cripple, so to speak. If they couldn’t get to Mingi, they were surely going to take their frustrations out on the easy prey to salvage what was left of their egos. At first, they were polite about it, then they became just loud enough for you to hear.

“That’s the translator? My, so the rumours were true, after all.”

“But she’s blind. KQ couldn’t find anyone else that can at least look you in the eye?”

“I wouldn’t trust someone who can’t even see the people she’s negotiating with.”

Your fingers curled around your untouched champagne flute to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Imbeciles, you thought. You weren’t really blind, but of course, they can’t know that. You were playing the long game here and their words were nothing compared to the unknown of what would happen if Mingi found out. You didn’t even want to know. For now, you stayed silent.

But Mingi had different ideas. You and all the other patrons on the table flinched when his low chuckle pierced through the hushed conversations. “You know,” he started, gaze settling on the people who had questioned your abilities. “The funny thing about natural intellect is that it often doesn’t require sight.”

The implication was clear. No one spoke and a few nearby guests from the other table coughed awkwardly into their drinks. You were stunned into silence, your chest tightening as you watched Mingi take a sip from his glass, his posture as relaxed as ever. You wanted to believe that he meant something else - that he was doing this for his own interest - but you’d be lying to yourself.

One of the men who insulted you forced an awkward smile that looked like it was meant to be smug. “Ah, we were just curious,” he smirked. “KQ prides itself on excellence. I simply meant that eyesight is important in business.”

“So is a brain,” Mingi raised a brow, voice calm.

The dig was so pointed and deliberate that the people around were stuck in between snickering or stuttering in surprise, but the man’s face just reddened in embarrassment, perhaps in anger. “Come again?” He huffed in annoyance.

Mingi smirked behind his glass, scoffing softly. “All I’m saying,” he spoke calmly. “Is that I’ve met people who could see perfectly fine yet choose to be sightless. I’ve also met some who lost their sight along the way. I’m not sure who’s worse.”

His eyes lingered on every single face on the table long enough to make every single of them visibly uncomfortable. His words sent a shiver down your spine, so you turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at anybody else anymore. He was looking at you - no - he was looking through you. “Your entire existence has been led by your blindness.”

He continued, voice lowered enough not to be unheard, but enough to paralyse you because this felt personal. “And since you can’t see,” he paused as your pulse stumbled. “And the more nothing happens, the more dreadful it feels.”

A strange silence envelops the entire table. Some people gave an awkward laugh, but you barely noticed them, your focus entirely on the man beside you. This felt different. Every conversation you’ve had with Mingi felt like you were being hunted, but now? It didn’t even feel like he was mocking you for your blindness - it felt like he understood it.

Not the lie, but the fear of it and the suffocating uncertainty of not knowing whether or not he would finally do something drastic the next time you saw him. Your heart beat painfully against your ribs, and you couldn’t understand why because you should have been afraid.

So why did it feel like that the only person who seemed to perfectly understand the prison you’ve entrapped yourself in was the very same man who had built it?

You already knew that Mingi was detested being there - loathed the people around him, really - and that was fine, but even psychopaths like Song Mingi had their limits. You just weren’t expecting Mingi to act upon that unease in the most unconventional of ways. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore, yet somehow, you still were.

The water in the tub had long since gone cold but you had barely noticed. The bathroom was too quiet, especially in contrast with all of tonight’s events - the glittering chandeliers, forced smiles, conversations with hidden meanings, Song Mingi - all of it. The lavender scented bath salts that should have been calming, but they didn’t even work. Instead, you still felt sick.

You closed your eyes, but that was a mistake. Immediately, fragments of the evening flashed in your head. You sank deeper in the water to will yourself to think about anything else, but your mind refused. The last thing you remembered was running to your room after seeing Mingi and Wooyoung together in the emergency stairwell, but how did you even get there?

“Go to your room and rest, doll,” Mingi had spoken the moment he took you out of that suffocating ballroom. “You need it. We still need to attend the after party tomorrow.”

You absentmindedly played with the bubbles floating about, swirling mindless, abstract patterns with your fingertips. You remembered glancing at Mingi, reading to say your good nights, but he wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, he was staring at the ballroom doors, eyes fixed on it as if he was waiting for something to happen. You shivered at the memory.

“W-What about you?” You asked. “Are you not resting yet?”

He shook his head, gaze already down the hallway opposite the ballroom. “No. I’m going to smoke for a bit,” he flatly spoke, almost distracted. He grabs something from his coat pocket. “This is the list of people I need you to memorise for tomorrow,” he said, handing you a flash drive. “Go on. Jongho’s in the lobby to help you to your room. I’ll swing by later to get it back.”

You turned your head to the side where the flash drive lay on the pristine marble sink, still untouched, not knowing what exactly to do with it - not when you knew Mingi lied to you. You knew for a fact he didn’t smoke. So when he turned his back to walk away, you hung out but not because you were waiting for Jongho; no, you were going to see what Mingi was up to.

You should’ve just listened, because the next thing you knew, you were hidden by the staircase door, your eyes wide, mouth agape in fear and disbelief, watching Mingi’s smirk turn into a smug grin while Wooyoung grabbed him by the collar, eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, veins popping from his neck all the way to his temples in sheer anger. 

“Mingi, you piece of shit,” he seethed, voice scathing as he slammed Mingi against the concrete wall. “It was you, wasn’t it? I know it was you. The fucking gala is in shambles because of you.”

At that time you didn’t know it was related. When you were tailing Mingi, there was a sudden commotion that erupted in the ballroom when you passed it, panicked voices and frantic demands for an emergency hotline. The realisation made you pale, because now you knew why he looked at that door like he was waiting - because he actually was.

“Careful with the suit, Youngie. I happen to like this one a lot,” he murmured, not even bothered in the slightest. “Mighty bold of you to assume I had something to do with it.”

The playful, teasing investor who ate cherries was nowhere to be found. His usually warm face had darkened with rage, fists tightening even further against Mingi’s expensive suit. “Cut the bullshit,” he spat. “I was literally at the other table listening in while you were mouthing off to that dead trash.What the fuck were you thinking?”

The victim flashed across your mind almost instantly and your blood ran cold, realisation settling into your bones with horrifying clarity. Mingi had killed again and the one who died was none other than the executive who he spent the entire time digging into. And as if things weren’t bad enough, you saw a shadow approaching from the other side of the hallway. 

It was Jongho. He was about to open his mouth, but you hurriedly put your finger to your mouth, your teary eyes begging him to be silent and not speak while pointing at the staircase. His eyes widened, but luckily, he did exactly what you wanted and opted to stand beside you to listen in as well, though you think it was more because he was stunned into silence seeing you so panicked.

The both of you watched Wooyoung groan into his hands in sheer frustration before glaring at Mingi, looking like he was ready to throw him down the stairs. “God, Song Mingi, you just gave me a migraine and half,” he hissed, two seconds away from punching him. “Was he on the list?”

Mingi’s lips stretched at the corners. It wasn’t enough to be called a smile, but enough to show his canines. You remembered thinking how symbolic it was. “Oh. No, he wasn’t,” he replied.

Wooyoung stared, blinking twice like he had heard wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Mingi shrugged, casually straightening his tie. “I had no plans tonight, I genuinely wanted to leave this hellhole fast, so I wasn’t even going to do anything to the guy. He just pissed me off.”

Wooyoung stared more before exploding. “What?” His voice boomed through the entire staircase, loud and roaring, making you and Jongho both flinch at the intensity. “Mingi, that was blatant, you petty motherfucker—”

“I don’t get petty,” he interrupted with insulting calm. “I get even, Wooyoung.”

The amusement he had the entire time completely vanished. It was so unsettling. When Mingi looked back at Wooyoung, there was that terrifying cold that you only saw when he was in his murderous state.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” he said, holding Wooyoung’s gaze without flinching. “I’d have caved your skull in with my shoe for cornering me like this.”

Jongho’s breath hitched. Mingi wasn’t joking and even Wooyoung seemed to recognise that. For the first time since confronting him, hesitation crossed his face, but Mingi wasn’t done.

“This place,” he gestures randomly with his hands. “Runs on order, chaos, and my patience. If there’s a problem, it isn’t what I did. It’s what everyone thinks they saw. And I suggest,” he pauses, head tilting, menacingly so. “You make sure they’re looking at the right thing.”

Wooyoung paused, face settling into a dangerous realisation. You watched him take a step back, face reddening bit by bit as a newfound rage seemed to overcome him. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You play god to stay on top of that mountain of shit you’re sitting on and you expect people to just forget and hope their attention diverts towards something else?”

Mingi smiled a bit, genuinely amused by the situation. “You misunderstand me,” he said, taking a step slow enough to feel deliberate. “You think I killed my way here? Because anybody can kill. You certainly have. You think the man who kills the most gets to stay on top, Jung Wooyoung?”

The question was almost conversational and it had you and Jongho both holding your breaths. Wooyoung said nothing as Mingi’s eyes stayed locked onto his. “Listen to them,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom. “Half the room thinks he had a heart attack, and the other half thinks otherwise. But it doesn’t matter, because by tomorrow, every single one of those stories will be more useful to me than the truth. It’s always the little ants that help me stay up.”

His face had emptied with nothing but those dead eyes that stared through people rather than at them, but it was the way his voice remained calm - that was the terrifying part. There was no ounce of guilt in them. Mingi continued, voice dropping lower. “You see, before I built my network, I don’t announce my intentions to the anthill. Before I pull the trigger, I don’t explain myself.”

“You want to know why?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung's body tensed when Mingi stepped closer, jaw tightening when the taller man’s fingers brushed against his tie to fix it. “Because they’re ants, Youngie,” he declared, gaze sharpening dangerously, fingers twisting the tie, causing Wooyoung to choke out before letting go. “And ants are far below my understanding.”

The way he said it was soft, but the words landed like a blade. Mingi sighed, eyes drifting briefly towards the ceiling. “But the world is round,” he mumbled thoughtfully with an almost child-like innocence. “I could be the ant to someone else next time. But not tonight,” his eyes hardened when they returned to Wooyoung. “Because right here, right now, they are the ants.”

You finally understood something that terrified you more than the murders themselves - Mingi thought he was above these people and genuinely cannot imagine anyone changing the story he had already decided for them. You had to get Jongho out of here before Mingi realises he had another witness.

“Jongho, please,” you begged, grabbing onto his jacket. “Take me to my room.”

Jongho didn’t hesitate or ask any questions. His hands were trembling the entire time, you could feel it, and you could only imagine what was going through his head; to know that the boss he had admired for so long was a cold and calculated murderer.

The walk back felt impossibly long, but the moment you entered your hotel room, Jongho took a deep breath to prepare himself for the barrage of questions that he had for you. “Y/N, what the hell was that? I need to know—”

“I’m not blind,” you blurted out before you could help it. “I-I lied. I can see perfectly.”

And somehow between this revelation and the conversation between Mingi and Wooyoung, this one seemed to surprise him the most. You told him everything - how you had lied from the very beginning because you had accidentally witnessed Mingi doing the same thing months prior. And, knowing how smart he was, Jongho asked why didn’t you just leave or, perhaps, not accept the job offer, so you also told him about the company card and how Mingi found you through it.

Jongho nodded as he took the information in, but you could see how his face had paled as he tried to keep his composure. “He would’ve found you regardless of where you were,” he mumbled, more to himself, in realisation. “Y/N, this is fucked. All of this is. Does anyone else know?”

You nodded, telling him San, your best friend, knew. By the time you were finished, your voice had gone hoarse, hands trembling uncontrollably. Your chest, however, did feel a little lighter. Letting all of this out felt good for once even if saying it out loud solidified the danger wrapped behind it.

But as you stared at the way Jongho just stood there, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him; your chest felt lighter simply because you now had someone to share the heaviness with.

In the end, Jongho thought it was best to keep acting normal until the dust settles. “If anything goes wrong,” he said sharply through veiled concern as he was about to leave your room. “And I mean anything, you come to me. I have a spare room in my apartment you both could crash in.”

You could have cried. Jongho took it better than you ever did and finally - God, finally - you felt like you weren’t alone. The cold embrace of the lavender scented water you were submerged in didn’t feel so biting anymore. You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the bathroom door opening, though.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but not once in your wildest dreams were you expecting to see Mingi standing by the door of the bathroom. In your peripheral vision, you can see his breath hitch, frozen from where he was standing, just as startled as you were.

You racked your brain for reasons why Mingi would be in your room to begin with, but you saw him staring at the flash drive on your sink and it hit you. You forgot that he was supposed to take it.

He looked shocked. It wasn’t the subtle surprise you’d coax out of him once in a while or that morbid curiosity he always had. No, this was pure, unadulterated shock; one you’ve never seen on his face before. This wasn’t one of his calculated performances - he genuinely did not expect to see you like this, and for the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t the only one, you were so caught-off guard that you couldn’t even move and this was when reality set in. You were in a bathtub and you were wearing nothing. You could hear the slow drip of the water from the faucet, the faint hum of the air conditioner just outside this suffocating, the ringing in your ears - everything. And God, that thought was so unsettling.

You became painfully aware of your vulnerability; of your bare shoulders and legs exposed to the cool air, of the thin sheet of bubbles that covered what little of your privacy, and every instinct told you to cover yourself and to scream at Mingi to get out. But you couldn’t. Blind people didn’t react to people silently appearing in their peripheral vision. Blind people never had the need to sink lower in cloudy bathwaters to protect their dignity from someone they didn’t know was there.

So, you remained still, keeping your gaze unfocused, praying that your breathing and your wild heartbeat wouldn’t betray you. With shaking hands, you reached for the shampoo bottle, missing it a few times on purpose for the sake of normalcy. In the dim, yellow lights of the luxurious bathroom, you just hoped that your reddened cheeks and ears weren’t so visible.

Mingi still didn’t move, and even if he did, you were expecting him to walk away as quietly as he crept in, but this was Mingi you were talking about and he was anything but. You had to stifle the alarmed yelp that wanted to escape your throat when he slid inside the bathroom completely. If you were really blind, you would have been none the wiser; he was good at being unheard.

Your hands were trembling as you continued to shampoo your hair, all while he leaned his back against the wall. Your stomach dropped, was he going to stay here? You could feel your hackles rise in the silence. This was absolutely absurd, because at this point, it was just impossible to not feel each other’s presence. Mingi was right earlier - people do love to pretend to be sightless.

As if things weren’t disturbing enough, his eyes had gotten dark somehow, and through your peripherals as you dragged the washcloth over your exposed legs, you saw his breathing grow heavier, his chest rising up and down with so much difficulty that it was becoming hard for you to breathe as well. Whatever he was thinking, you did not want to know.

But it seems like you’d have no choice. You froze when you saw his hand going lower, inching towards the outline of his obviously hardened cock. You swallowed, reaching out for the faucet to turn the water just so the tension wouldn’t slice you in two, but that mistake would cost you. Mingi took this opportunity to use the noise of the running water to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants.

The sight of his exposed cock, hard and already dripping in precum, caught you off guard, causing you to accidentally lose your balance as you tried to sit back down. The mishap completely shifts the hazy bathwater around, the bubbles sloshing around at the ripples, completely exposing you in your entirety. Just like that, the atmosphere turned sinister.

Song Mingi was jerking off at the sight of you bathing. You wanted to throw up, utterly disturbed at the turn of events. You were trapped; acknowledging him would mean seeing him, and hiding yourself would also mean seeing him.

Act normal, you told yourself. But to be fair, even if you weren’t pretending to be blind, how does one react normally to this?

A shaky exhale came from Mingi, the sound of it loud to your ears over the running water. He wastes no time wrapping his hands around his cock, stroking it slowly, eyes roaming greedily at your plump tits glistening with soap as you tried to rinse yourself. Subconsciously, you bit your lip, and it doesn’t escape your attention how his hand tightened around himself.

You shivered, not being able to stop the small whimper that left your lips. Fuck, you thought helplessly, your own body betraying you as the tingles went from your spine all the way down to your nether regions. It was stomach-churning and tears threatened to fall from your eyes because you were getting utterly, disgustingly, turned on by all of this.

No, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. But there you were, gripping the edge of the bathtub so hard your fingers ached as Mingi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at the slow, deliberate strokes he was giving himself at the sight of your nakedness. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, you weren’t supposed to feel stuck between a cliff where jumping down would mean giving in.

You grabbed the washcloth again, dragging it across your belly before the cloth dipped lower, spreading your legs, but stopping midway. You didn’t even realise what you were doing, and God, you were about to be sick.

But, fuck, you needed something. You swallowed, you were just cleaning yourself. Every section needed to be scrubbed, right? Nothing out of the ordinary.

You bit your lip as you finally dragged the cloth lower as you washed between your legs, spreading your thighs a little wider under the water as your fingers brushed your clit, going back and forth to make sure you were thoroughly clean. You closed your eyes, focusing on the delicious onslaught you desperately needed down there rather than the bile rising up your throat.

Mingi’s breath hitched and his pace quickened. You could see his fist going faster, his movement more urgent. He was watching every move you made, the way your fingers clenched around nothing as you rubbed the cloth there again, pretending and telling yourself that it was just routine bathing. You really shouldn’t be doing this.

His breathing turned ragged, his hand moving in quick desperate strokes, low groans barely contained, but just when you thought he was about to come, Mingi stopped. He closed his eyes, taking in slow but big gulps of air as he tried to contain himself with great difficulty if the veins popping on his neck weren’t telling.

You were confused, and thought of being confused made the bile in your throat rise even higher. This was so messed up. But you kept your expression neutral, eyes unfocused as you continued to wash yourself. And just as sudden as he came barging in your bathroom, he hurriedly tucked himself back in his pants, grabbed the flash drive on your sink, and left quietly.

When you heard the front door clicking shut, your lungs finally remembered how to work. You hurriedly turned the faucet off, drained the tub, and quickly got dressed, all in the span of not even five minutes, to sit on the bed. Every muscle protested as you slowly relaxed and you didn’t even realise how rigid you were the entire time until you felt the softness of the bed.

Your shoulders slumped in relief. Mingi was gone, and of course, you were relieved. So why did the room suddenly feel so empty? Your throat tightened, replaying the scenes over and over again like cinema credits that went on forever. You hated every second that his eyes devoured you, didn’t you?

You shook your head at that wretched thought, waiting for the correct answer in the expanse of your dark, luxurious room, but it didn’t come. Instead, another realisation crawled into your mind like poison. You didn’t want him in the bathroom, you knew that, but your body…

You barely reached the toilet before you were retching over it in painful heaves, your lungs burning terribly as nothing came out. You felt sick, not because of the thought of Mingi, because of the way your body responded on its own in his presence. The thought disgusted you, made you want to peel your skin off and flush it down the toilet.

Tears fell down from your eyes before you could help it. You told yourself that you were always going to see through this and not let Mingi get to you.

Yet there you were, hands on your face, sobbing and wondering whether or not he already had.

Sleep never found you that night. Sanity had long left you. Sentience was something of the past for you. Sensation swallowed reasons whole. Someone said your name, but you barely stirred. Sex on the beach tasted pretty bland in this afterparty, swirling it didn’t make it better either. Smiles spread across the room, and sobriety stood no chance finding you tonight.

“Easy on the cocktails,” Jongho murmured beside you, or rather, shouted above the loud music in the background. “Mingi’s going to suspect something.”

“Let him,” you deadpanned, downing more cocktails than you could ever take.

Not tonight. You needed to get drunk to forget what happened last night. And speaking of that, the morning after was the most awkward moment of your entire existence yet. Mingi knocked on your door to remind you of the party, but he looked fine, pretty much the same asshole he usually was.

In essence, you were the only one messed up while he was pretending like nothing happened and the thought made you angrier than it usually would have.

Maybe trauma had finally broken something inside you, or perhaps, living under Mingi’s constant intimidation and fear rewired your instincts into something else. Whatever it was, you absolutely hated it. Whatever. You weren’t here to party like everyone did, and the moment you got back home, you had made up your mind to talk to San about Jongho’s offer for safety and shelter.

Tonight was easy, though. It’s like all these snobbish elitists who pretended that the gala actually contributed to society wanted to let loose like they had the right to when every hypocrite in there and their mothers knew that everything was just a farce. Mingi hadn’t called for you at all. Good, you thought. It wasn’t like you wanted to see him; not after last night.

In fact, he hadn’t even looked your way once. You were positive of that even in the paradigm of how these backwards parties worked, so why did your skin feel like it wants to separate itself from your body? The way it prickled made you want to dig your fingernails in and scratch that unbearable itch until you reached bones and nerves.

He was like a ghost that lingered but never really stayed; a spectre of your inevitable downfall. He was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. At least, not that your eyes could see. You could feel his eyes on you, but you knew for a fact that he was networking with investors as of the moment. You could feel him, not physically, but instinctually. You downed your drink in one go. Your senses have definitely left your mind. You felt delirious - paranoid. You rubbed your forearm, willing for that itch to go away, but it didn’t help. Whatever this was felt possessive—no, obsessive. It wasn’t until you felt fingers tap your shoulder that you snapped out of the chasm you jumped into. 

You blinked. It was a man, dressed to the nines and out to impress, already tipsy judging by the slight sway in his stance, an unpleasant grin plastered to his face like he deserved the attention he wanted from anyone.

“There she is,” he grinned, the horrible smell of alcohol and his pungent cologne invading your nose. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now.”

You forced a polite smile, your eyes dulling by itself not to pretend you were blind, but because you were genuinely not in the mood to act around pompous pricks when you already had so much in your head.

“My apologies,” you said, not even bothering to sound sorry at all.

His eyes traveled all over your form in ways you didn’t appreciate, his tongue poking out of lips, nodding in appreciation as if you were produce he wanted to purchase. Disgusting. “My, such pretty face for someone blind,” he clicked his tongue. “All wasted for Song Mingi.”

You immediately bristled at the insinuation. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the devil that was Mingi, himself, but you also had to deal with assholes like these who reduced you to what they thought you’re worth rather than what you’ve achieved. God, they made Mingi look like a saint because at least Mingi actually respected your job title and praised you for it all the time.

Jongho frowned. “With all due respect, Sir—”

The man cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I can make you see stars tonight, if you’d like,” he offered lasciviously, reaching out to you when he saw you stiffen. “You don’t need to be shy—”

An arm snakes around your waist, firm and certain, and you freeze before your body calms down. You didn’t even have to look, and the fact that you already knew who it was as you melted against him instinctively without thinking made you sick to your stomach. Mingi held you close, possessive without squeezing your waist, staking his claim without opening his mouth.

The other man’s smile falters and it was when Mingi spoke. “I see you’ve found yourself another friend, my little dove,” he said smoothly, dipping his head lower until you felt his breath against your ear. “Are you having fun?”

You shivered at the sensation, at his cordial and polite tone despite the way his eyes said otherwise as he fixated on the other man. He was completely devoid of warmth even though his skin left yours on fire. The other man took a cautious step back. You supposed that you weren’t the only one who could feel when Mingi was looking at them.

Mingi pulls you to the side, effectively seating you next to Jongho. “It seems our little friend here needs attention,” he mused, squeezing your waist possessively as if touching you was second nature to him.

He grabs your chin, turning you to him. “Be good for me, love,” he whispered. You gritted your teeth to stop that pleasurable zing up your spine. “Watch her,” he then told Jongho.

Jongho nodded dumbly, looking at you with wide eyes when Mingi turned back to the man, alarm clear on his expression that mirrored your own. The other man cleared his throat in an attempt to recover whatever dignity he lost, if he had one to begin with anyway.

“My apologies,” he began awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware that your employee was so…sensitive.”

What a piece of shit, you thought bitterly. He didn’t get what he wanted from you so he resorted to belittling you. “She seems to have misunderstood my intentions,” he continued, chuckling.

Mingi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he stated bluntly, not bothering to mince his words like he usually did. The man blinked, surprised at the turn of events, but Mingi’s gaze settled on him with that unnerving calm you knew too well. “Just because my translator cannot see you,” he paused, letting the words sink in. “Never meant she cannot hear you.”

You felt your gut tighten. While you appreciated his defense towards you, that didn’t really make your situation with Mingi better. He knew you were aware of everything he did, yet he chose to play games and test your sanity for months, so what did that say about him? The other man merely laughed, apparently - or choosing - to miss the point entirely.

“Well, perhaps I could make it up to her. Take her to dinner and maybe more, if you catch my drift,” he offered, that salacious grin still on his smug face. Jongho stiffens beside you, his usually kind eyes morphing into a glare so fierce that it could have rivaled Mingi’s.

Unfortunately, this man must’ve brought only half his brain because he didn’t stop there.

“Maybe I could shoot my shot with her,” he grinned, winking conspiratorily at Mingi as if this was an inside joke between them. “Plant my seed in her, you know what I mean?”

Mingi didn’t reply, yet the air around him changed so drastically, it was almost suffocating. His expression remained unreadable, but the quiet amusement in his eyes completely vanished. He nodded like he was agreeing. You swallowed. You learned enough about him to recognize that this was not a good sign. This was worse than him shouting. Much, much worse.

Then, in a whisper so soft that you were positive that you were the only one who heard it because nobody was meant to hear it, Mingi had barely let the words out of his mouth.

“What if I plant a bullet between your eyes, instead?”

Your blood froze, but the executive merely frowned. “Huh?”

“Hmm?” Mingi hummed in polite confusion, feigning innocence.

“Oh,” the man laughed nervously. “I thought you said something.”

A faint smile tugged at Mingi’s lips. “Must have been the wind,” he shrugged lazily.

But you couldn't take any of this anymore, so you excused yourself and said you were going to have fun on the other side of the venue with Jongho who immediately understands that you just wanted to get away. Mingi just raises a brow and cocks his head for you to go, but you hardly moved an inch before his hand wrapped around your wrist. He reeled you back without warning, your body colliding with his.

His other hand found the back of your neck, broad fingers spreading possessively beneath your hair. He held you there not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you that if he wanted to keep you exactly where you were, he could. His thumb stroked the nape of your neck in slow, deliberate passes.

“Stay where I can see you,” he said. There was no hint of any teasing in his voice, just firm and reminding. “I’d hate to have to come looking for you.”

Because I will.

Those were what his eyes were telling you as he let go, gesturing to the crowd to give you and Jongho permission to have fun. And you tried, you really did, but you couldn’t even move without your knees feeling strangely unsteady. Even at a distance, you still held your breath inside your lungs, unable to let it go no matter how much you tried.

Eventually, you had to tell Jongho that you needed to go to the restroom to get some space and hopefully refresh yourself, telling him ‘no’ when he offered to take you.

Snap out of it, Y/N, you told yourself in the subdued lighting of the ochre-themed restroom, splashing your face with a generous amount of cold tap water. Gripping the marbled sink with your trembling hands, you looked up at your reflection, watching droplets of water fall slowly from your exhausted face.

A shaky exhale leaves you. trying desperately to focus on anything except the lingering grip of Mingi’s fingers on the back of your neck. The bathroom ultimately felt too suffocating, plus staying wasn’t an option anyway - the last thing you needed was for Mingi to stay true to his threats. However, you barely made a step out when you felt yourself being slammed to the wall.

It was disorienting, and there was only one bastard who had the audacity to do that to you, but as you were about to give him a piece of your mind, another man’s voice spoke.

“You took forever in there,” he sneered, a dark undertone curling up his tone. “I thought I had to drag you out, myself.”

You froze, true fear crawling up your spine. You looked up, getting pale when you realised it was the same man from earlier who was hitting on you and now, he looked more drunk, more aggressive as he squeezed your arm painfully. “U-Uhm, you’re hurting me—” you tried to say.

“Mingi’s looking for you,” he interrupted, the pain shooting up further from your arm to your shoulder when he started dragging you towards the crowd without even waiting for you to say anything. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

You were having a difficult time keeping up with this man. The way he kept a tight grip on your arm felt different from the way Mingi had done. This one felt forceful and right, you would’ve traded anything for Mingi to be the one doing it instead because your arm genuinely hurt.

But as you stumbled, you quickly sensed that something was wrong when the music started to fade behind you, and by the time you realised that, the man had already pushed you outside.

Blood drained from your face. He had deliberately taken you out from the back where no one would come looking. “No,” you resisted, planting your feet as hard as you could on the concrete, flailing and trying to twist your arm free from his hands. “Let go of me—”

You cried out when you saw that he was trying to drag you to a lone car parked near. You clawed useless at his wrist to pry his fingers away, but this earned you a backhanded slap so hard, your head flew back.

“Shut the fuck up and get in the fucking car,” he hissed, hand shooting up, digging painfully into your jaw when you, one you couldn’t fight off because of the overwhelming nausea from him hitting you. “Or I’ll break your arm. I don’t mind fucking you with broken bones.”

Just as he was about to shove you inside his car, the back exit door slammed open so hard, it bounced off the walls in a loud echo. You slumped on the side of the car when the man’s grip loosened, wanting to just close your eyes and give in to the disorientation, but your eyes settled on the familiar figure up ahead - black suit, broad shoulders, blonde hair.

And when your eyes eventually cleared up to see who it was, you couldn’t stop the tears that fell. You’ve seen Mingi with all sorts of emotions, but not panic so raw, real, and unfiltered. His gaze swept all over you - your trembling hands, the bruise on your arms, your buckling legs.

Then, he settled on your face and the relief that washed over him was so immediate that it sent more tears down your eyes. He really was coming to get you no matter what, just like he had said.

The sight of your tears snapped Mingi out of the emotion he momentarily slipped into, burying it beneath something more infinitely dangerous.

But you couldn’t take it anymore, closing your eyes to let the darkness overcome you because you knew that whatever happened next, Mingi wasn’t going to let this man take you away.

Touch was the first thing you felt when you came to. Gentle fingers carefully gathered your hair, tucking the loose strands behind your ears. Mingi’s eyes were the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes, their usual sharpness dulled ever so slightly, his features softer somehow. You didn’t even move when his thumb brushed your swollen cheek.

Neither of you said anything, afraid of crashing this solemnity you rarely found with each other. This couldn’t be the same man - Mingi was highly intelligent and sarcastic, cunning in his ways and malicious in his murders. He likes winning conversations, gets irritated when challenged yet rarely explodes, and loves making people walk themselves into traps.

But most importantly, you knew he found you entertaining in every calculated torment he put you through. Yet here he was. His touch was careful enough that it almost frightened you.

Finally, he sighed softly, leaning away. “You’ll be alright,” was all he said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back to drive you home. I won’t be long, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed put.”

You didn’t even realise that you were currently in his car until he got out, closing the door softly so as to not startle you. You were going to pretend that didn’t happen. “W-Where are you going?” You blurted out, suddenly afraid to be alone. “Wait, the man from earlier—”

“Lock the door,” he cut off with maddening calm, staring at you for a second too long before he walked away, not bothering to look back. Having no choice, you did as he said. Another wave of exhaustion runs through you and before you knew it, you were once again dozing off.

Something must have startled you awake, though, with how you jerked slightly in your seat and judging by the embarrassing amount of drool pooled on your shirt, you must’ve napped for a while. And yet, there was still no sign of Mingi back in the car with you.

You frowned, looking at the direction where he’d walked away, your brows rising when you realised he walked into a dark, unmarked building. Immediately, something in your gut told you that something was wrong.

And like every bad decision you’ve made so far, you found yourself walking in, your footsteps impossibly loud despite how careful you walked. You were about to turn around when nothing came around when you heard voices ahead.

Gingerly, you pushed through nervously until you found yourself situated in a blind spot above a stairwell that overlooked an empty storage area.

Well, mostly empty except for two chairs where two men were bound and restrained. One of them had a gag on, wet with tears and wasted saliva, and the other one was pleading from his life while Mingi bunched his hair up in his fist. The blood drained from your face, not from what you were seeing - you were used to catching Mingi in the act. An unfortunate topic for another day - but because one of them looked very, very familiar to you.

The man who Mingi was facing was the very same man who had tried to take you earlier, his expensive suit tattered, one of his eyes already forming a nasty bruise.

“You said you’d let us go,” his panicked voice cracked. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

Mingi tilted his head. It was terrifying, really, how he regarded them with the same detachment he’d wear while reviewing quarterly reports. “Why do you sound like that? Did you miss puberty?” He asked nonchalantly. “I’m struggling not to put a bullet in your brain, so tread very carefully.”

Silence. Even you were holding your breath. “I can handle people trying to find me and try to kill me once in a while,” he continued, almost conversational. “People like you will keep going to either find nothing at all or even get to me if your stars are aligned properly.”

The man hissed in pain when Mingi seized him by the jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But you did honestly think that I’d be caught unawares?” He hissed, anger bleeding into his voice, a rare one that you’ve never heard.

“Now, riddle me this,” he said, drawing a pained gasp from the man when his grip tightened. “Would you have been luckier to find nothing…or to find me?”

A broken whimper escapes the man when Mingi lets go. Above them, your fingers curled so tightly around the railing that they ached. Every instinct screamed at you to leave, but your body refused to listen. “I won’t do it again, I was just paid to do this, I swear, I’ll leave you alone. Hell, I’ll even leave town—”

“Oh, that’s not what you’re here for,“ Mingi rolled his eyes. “See, I’m a wise man. I don’t waste time with people like you. I pay people for that. You crossed a line that wasn’t yours to touch, let alone force. I did not like that. I did not appreciate it.”

The captive's face had gone ghostly pale. His shoulders shook against the restraints, and he strained forward as if getting physically closer might somehow make Mingi believe him. “Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes, you can’t help but follow the scent of sweet fruit and resist not taking a bite,” he laughed nervously. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Mingi’s composure fractures a bit. He turned away slightly, dragging a hand slowly down the lower half of his face as though physically restraining himself from acting on the rage threatening to spill over. The man gestures towards the other captive. “He could tell you who paid us—”

“I don’t care who paid you,” Mingi snapped, words clipped by an anger he was making no effort to hide anymore. His eyes had gone frighteningly cold, but beneath them burned something raw and visceral. You had to bite down your horror when Mingi produced a knife out of nowhere and stabbed the man’s hand, pinning it on the armrest. “Those details don't matter much to me.”

The man’s bone-chilling howl drowned out your panicked, laboured breaths. You had almost forgotten how truly sadistic Mingi was; how little he cared for human life. “I didn’t mean,” the man choked out desperately as if his blood would stop flowing. “I-I swear, I didn’t know—”

“You knew enough,” was all Mingi said, quietly wiping his hand with a cloth before haphazardly tossing it away. Mingi regarded for a long moment before walking to the other man, still gagged but now with more tears and terror in his eyes.

“And you,” he scoffed, crouching until they were eye level. “I’ve been meaning to get to you for a while. You’ve made my boss into a fool chasing a pest like you. Imagine my luck when I found out you and this bastard here were connected.”

Mingi chuckled, slinging an arm around the gagged man while he stared at the other. “I’ll give you two options. See, my boss needs proof that I did my job. You understand that, don’t you?” He smirked, echoing the other man’s words from earlier.

“It’s simple. I need fingers and a tongue,” he pointed to the bloody knife. “You decide if you want your fingers to go or his,” he clapped the gagged man’s back. “Or vice versa. I’ll let you live. If not, then I suppose I must kill you.”

His shoulders caved inward as pleas poured from him in broken sobs, begging until his voice cracked into something almost unrecognizable. And Mingi listened, or rather, allowed the noise to happen.

Finally, the man caved and with shaking fingers, he reached for the knife before a strangled cry ripped from his throat as he pulled the blade free. You recoiled instantly, one hand flying to your mouth, stomach lurching so violently you thought you were about to throw up.

You watched Mingi smile. “Go on,” he murmured almost encouragingly, as though coaching someone, not caring that the man shook in pain. “You’re doing great. Don’t lose your nerve now. If you do it fast enough the pain will be over before you even knew it started. ” 

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. The captive drew one ragged breath, lifted the knife with an unsteady hand and just as he was about to land a hit, the heavy door on the opposite side of the room swung open. The man's hand froze midair and even Mingi turned. Your heart stopped. Someone else was here.

Seonghwa’s steps faltered, his eyes sweeping across the room like he walked into a scene he never expected. For one fleeting second, relief crashed over you so hard, your knees almost gave out. Seonghwa, who was gentle with his smiles, always remembered your pastries, and always cared for you, could stop Mingi. Unfortunately, the hostage took this distraction to move.

“Don’t move,” he threatened, fear thick in his voice despite the way he grabbed his other companion to wrap his arm around him, knife dangerously close to his neck. “I swear to God I’ll slice his neck. You won’t find out who paid us to kill you, Mingi, if you touch me.”

You needed to warn Seonghwa. You didn’t need Mingi targeting him next for being here. But before you could think further, a gunshot rang out. You jolted at the sound, and for one second, you couldn’t understand what was happening, that is, until you looked closely.

The captive remained standing, eyes wide and knife still raised, the gagged man he’d been using as a shield collapsed at his feet. He was dead, a bullet tearing clear through his heart.

Seonghwa stood with one arm extended, a pistol resting comfortably in his hand, smoke still drifting from the barrel. “Not much of an upper hand now, are you?”

He tilted his head rhetorically as if mildly inconvenienced. It all happened in a split second - the man barely had time to open his mouth before Seonghwa shot again, clean between the eyes, sharp and precise.

He let out a sigh, not even bothering to look at the corpses, before shooting a glance at Mingi. “I distinctly remember telling you not to play with your food,” he clicked his tongue, casually putting the gun down a nearby table. “Did Yeosang actually ask for proof? Which one was on the list?”

Mingi snorted, pointing at the man who was shot first. “No, not really,” he admitted, amused at the questions. “I’m a man of my word, though. I meant it when I said they’d live. Why?”

Seonghwa didn’t reply. Instead, he stood to retrieve the knife, turning it over between his fingers. “I’m bored,” he shrugged, voice pleasant. Though his eyes showed otherwise, a glint so sinister the knife couldn’t compete.

You had to shut your eyes when Seonghwa grabbed one of the corpses’ hands and went to work, putting your hands over your ears to drown out his cheerful whistling and the unpleasant sound of squelching blood and metal crushing bones.

This wasn’t Seonghwa - the man hacking away body parts methodically like he did this everyday was not your friend. The illusion shattered so violently that it hurt you more than Mingi had ever done because at least Mingi never pretended; he had shown you exactly who he was from the beginning.The tears came before you realised it, the grief far worse than fear. It was absurd to mourn someone who was still here, but perhaps, the friend you knew never existed to begin with.

Mingi watched him for another second before speaking. “No remorse for the guy?”

Seonghwa didn’t even bother looking up. “I wouldn’t pee on him even if he were on fire.”

Mingi raised his brows, more in fascination rather than blatant surprise, an amused whistle escaping through his teeth. “You’re evil,” he grinned, shaking his head.

Seonghwa let out a laugh, a real one that made his eyes crinkle. “That may be so, but I’m not as cruel as you,” he retorted lightheartedly, lifting a finger to signal men to drag the corpses away before continuing. “The translator shtick was creative, I’ll give you that, but not slipping once in your mother tongue after months of working together?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in vague admiration. “Incredible discipline. Shouldn’t have expected less from the Song Mingi, himself,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “It’s either discipline…or obsession.”

Your blood froze. No, you desperately thought. Your heart already knew what Seonghwa meant, but your mind refused to accept it, and it still hit when Mingi spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged innocently, replying in flawless Japanese. “I did need a translator. My Mandarin is pretty shitty, if I may say so myself.”

Seonghwa scoffed, rolling his eyes, fully offended at what he had just heard. “Don’t bullshit me, Mingi,” he replied in perfect, natural Mandarin. “You may not be fluent, but you’re decent enough. God, it’s been years and the way your mind functions still baffles me sometimes.”

Something inside you cracked open. Mingi never needed you. Everything crashed into you with suffocating force. He watched your panic over carefully chosen words all because he wanted to. He stared at Seonghwa for the longest moment before letting out a laugh, shooting his hands up in faux innocence as if he was caught stealing from a cookie jar. “You got me,” he mocked. “You said it yourself. My food, my rules. I get to play with it whenever I damn well please.”

Seonghwa’s amusement vanished. It was gradual, just enough for something infinitely more dangerous to settle on his face. “Careful, Mingi,” he started, inhumanly flat. “That food you’re referring to is Y/N,” he paused. He spoke your name with so much gentleness. “And I happen to like her very, very much. You’re not the only one with eyes, Mingi, so I’d watch your back if I were you. I’ve seen you play with her for way too long and I won’t stand by it anymore.”

The ease drained from Mingi’s posture first, the lazy tilt of his head disappearing, his eyes shifting into something far more terrifying than you’ve seen it. For the first time since you’d met him, Mingi looked genuinely angry. “Park Seonghwa,” he began, taking a measured step forward. “There are some things I tolerate, and some things that I won’t. You can borrow my car and you can raid my liquor cabinet. You can even take tens and thousands from my bank account.”

He paused to take more steps. “And I wouldn’t care,” he continued. They stood so close that their faces were mere inches away. “You can take anything you want, but you better not steal from me,” he seethed quietly. “Do not stand before me and tell me you’re entertaining thoughts you have no intentions of surviving. Because I won’t let you. Don’t take my goodwill for granted.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, pushing Mingi away. “Don’t piss me off. You already burned through every ounce of my goodwill when you shot Yamada in my fucking office on my favourite couch?” Seonghwa snapped, voice rising higher, unable to reel in his annoyance. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep the Kangs happy after that stunt, you disastrous son of a bitch?”

“Anyway,” Seonghwa sighed before his voice softened, and for a second, you couldn’t help but still see that friend you’ve come to like, especially knowing that he felt a little differently for you. But only for a second. “She’s been through enough tonight. Leave her alone. She looked so peaceful sleeping in your car when I passed by it earlier.”

Mingi shook his head, almost fondly. “No, she’s not.”

Your lungs seized inside your ribs. You subconsciously took a step back, hoping that he was speaking in tongues and doesn’t actually believe you were gone. Seonghwa frowned, his eyes following Mingi as he began to walk towards the exit. “You don’t know her like I do, Hwa,” he chuckled, reaching for the door. “By now, she’s probably long gone. You’ll be lucky if you even see a lick of her shadow at work this week because she’ll never step foot in KQ ever again.”

Something about the way he said it made your body scream. “But she’ll keep thinking about me. Fear has a funny way of making you remember someone. So yeah, she’ll run,” he said, smile  deepening, eyes glimmering into something more pleased and exciting. “And I’ll let her.”

The terror had seeped so deeply into your bones by now that your body hollowed itself out. The entire time you’ve been trying to navigate around Mingi, you had been dancing exactly the way he wanted you to. You thought you were running - Mingi knew how you’d react as if you running was something he already accounted for. Your choices were never yours to begin with.

“Whatever, you sick bastard,” Seonghwa’s dry dismissal cut through the silence. “Go play cat and mouse somewhere and get the hell out of my company. I’ll admit, you did a great job, but you bossing me around was getting on my nerves. Plus, I can’t take Hongjoong’s complaints anymore. You’ve been running my assistant to the ground, you opportunist,” he sighed. “Yeosang will put out a statement to avoid conflict or I’ll ask Wooyoung to take over the list for you.” 

His company? And what list? This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard of it. The words landed harder than the gunshots had and it suddenly explained every conversation where Seonghwa would pop up out of nowhere. It explained why Hongjoong acted the way he did, why Mingi himself never really challenged Seonghwa, and why Yunho bowed a little lower. It had always been Seonghwa who was holding the leash - Mingi was just the convenient front, but for what? 

Mingi shrugged, the statement not even bothering him, twisting the door handle to leave the premises. But before he could take a step, Seonghwa’s voice stopped him. “Mingi?” He spoke quietly, eyes softening significantly. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, pausing for just a fraction before he smirked. “We’ll see.”

Jongho made true to his promise. You haphazardly packed the bare minimum before San did the same at his place, all in the same night. Jongho’s apartment was modest and his generosity earned him a thousand thanks along with the tightest hug from you. “So, what now?” San asked that night after everything had settled, holding your hand tight in his. “What’s going to happen?”

Truthfully, you haven’t gotten that far yet, and admittedly, none of you thought this through. However, you did know one thing. “I’m going to the police,” you finally said. And you meant it this time. Out of all the crimes you’ve unwillingly witnessed, there was something about this last one that genuinely scared you. It wasn’t a burden you were willing to carry alone anymore.

Jongho and San looked at you, both concerned and uncertain. "They might not believe me," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to try. I-I can’t do this alone anymore. I just,” you paused, throat tight. “I need a record. That someone at some point reported it…”

They understood what you meant. If something ever happened to you, at least someone would hopefully connect the dots. For now, all of you agreed it was best to lay low for a while until the dust settles. But once it does, you really were going to go to the police station. It didn’t matter anymore because you were done protecting monsters; done going insane to remain sane.

It had been almost five months since then of you just sitting duck. Jongho decided that him working at KQ would cause the least suspicion and San absolutely forbid you from going out. You weren’t going to complain. You’ve found a routine designed to numb your brain and for the most part, you operated with the intent of forgetting, just walking around in a daze.

The image of Mingi just wouldn’t go away. You’d often wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about him, having spent the last few weeks pushing him out of your mind with no success. You didn’t bet on lasting this long hidden away, however, there was a small part of you that ached at the thought that, maybe, he wouldn’t even bother with you anymore. It was confusing and revolting at the same time; the maximum reason why you couldn’t sit still in Jongho’s apartment. 

There was only so much of this that you could take. Needless to say, San wasn’t pleased when you told him that you’ve made up your mind and was finally going to make a move. “Y/N, I don’t know, I have a terrible feeling about this,” he spoke nervously over the phone. “Can’t you at least wait until the end of the week to decide?”

“I can’t, Sannie,” you murmured, turning the doorknob to enter your apartment. “I can’t live with uncertainty anymore. I already spoke with a detective earlier before I left. I just need to grab a couple of things from my place and then we can all go to the police station tomorrow.”

The moment you hung up the phone and entered your apartment, you wanted to crash. Oh, how you missed your place and the normalcy it provided. It wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little while you planned your next move, but first, you were going to change your clothes. You’ve been wearing the same ones for months and you felt bad for borrowing Jongho’s a lot. You headed up to your bedroom, not bothering to close the door, and started to take your shirt off.

But you froze when you heard the door close behind you. Slowly - painfully slowly - you turned around. Mingi stood leaning against the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. He looked…different. Gone was the suit, replaced by a leather jacket that looked lethal on him. And his hair was black now, messy and unstyled. Somehow, the darker hair made him look younger.

It also made him look even more dangerous. Or was it that unfathomable look in his eyes as he watched you that bordered between predatory and repressed anger? You had no idea; all you knew was that the sight of him made something inside you stir treacherously, but that didn’t last long because the fear had caught on. You’d escaped, you were finally safe, so how was he here?

“Mingi,” you whispered, the fear in your voice unmistakable, eyes darting around in search for the nearest weapon you could use to protect yourself, but finding nothing. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t reply, eyes still fixed on you. His eyes always unsettled you, but this one felt different. There wasn’t that sadistic amusement you’ve gotten used to nor that smug satisfaction that was always lingered. His stare was just pure ice with absolutely nothing in them. “Because I was looking for you,” he said, pushing himself away from the door.

You frowned, clearly not satisfied with this answer. He noticed and cocked his head in question. “Why? Were you expecting more?” Mingi asked, stepping closer to you. “Did you want me to tell you how irritated I was that you hid from me for so long?”

You maintained eye contact, raising your chin in defiance, trying not to falter when he stopped in front of you so close that his chest was brushing against your breasts. “You knew where I was,” you said, gritting your teeth when the tiniest quirk of his lips confirmed it. “There’s nothing for you here, Mingi, please just leave. I’m happy being with Jongho—”

“Enough,” his voice cut through like a blade. He quickly darted his hand out to your cheeks, gripping them painfully. “I must say, though, this is very nice,” he began with a dark chuckle, turning your face once as if he was inspecting a product. “Seeing you actually seeing me, if you get what I mean. I have to get used to it, but I am enjoying it so far. I mean it.”

Your blood turned to ice when the meaning struck instantly. All those months of looking through him and forcing your eyes out of focus. And now, your eyes were fully locked onto his. "So that's what your eyes look like when you’re not pretending to be blind," he whispered almost tenderly. "It’s so honest. It also means I can finally watch them tell me exactly how afraid you are."

The way he said it was far more unsettling than his presence. His voice had no teasing tilt anymore, none of that false gentleness that unnerved you and each word sounded flat. “So you've always known,” you couldn’t help but say as realisation hits you at the same time - that the polished, professional man in front of you had been hiding behind plausible deniability. And now that the jig was up, there was no reason for Mingi to maintain that mask. “Since when?”

“Right from when I saw you watch me shoot that man on the trail,” Mingi snorted derisively. Your breath hitched. Hearing him say it out loud like this right in front of your face brought in a new type of terror. “Wouldn’t be good with what I did if I couldn't tell, would I? It was funny,” he chuckled. “And so dumb at the same time that I couldn’t even be mad even if I wanted to.”

You glared at his blatant disregard of why you even had to resort to such methods in the first place, raising your hands to pry his fingers away, but that only resorted to him narrowing his eyes in warning, gripping your cheek harder. “Why did you let me go if it was so dumb, then?” You bit back. “You could have killed me on the spot and no one would’ve known except the trees.” “I wanted to fuck with you, was that so wrong? You can’t play games and not expect someone to not want to play with you. Or did you just not want me as your playmate?” He replied nonchalantly. “I’m not that bad. That’s why I made Seonghwa hire Choi Jongho. I saw he was being nice to you and I figured you needed someone who wasn’t part of this fiasco so you wouldn’t lose your mind. I don’t particularly enjoy playing with my food when they’re bland.”

Hot, searing rage courses through you, bone-deep in its intensity. He played you like a damn instrument and your melody invigorated him. You slapped his hand away from your cheek with adrenaline-fueled anger, even going as far as slapping his cheek once his hand let go. You hit him and you made sure it hurt. “You son of a bitch,” you seethed. “I saw everything, including Yamada and the warehouse with Seonghwa. I’m going to tell on you, Mingi, I swear I will. ”

You didn’t care anymore. Mingi let out a small laugh of disbelief, grazing his now bleeding lip with his tongue. “I knew you saw everything. Your reactions were never really subtle,” he said, speaking so casually that it made your stomach churn. “And that’s fine. You can go to the police. I’ll even drive you there. I reckon they’ll actually believe you. The only question is…”

You whimpered when he grabbed your arm and bent it behind your back painfully before slamming you up against the nearest wall. The room suddenly felt small, Mingi was too close; too warm for comfort. “...if they would do something about it,” he continued, getting closer, his breath tickling your ear, voice lowering just enough for your senses to cloud. “Think about it, Y/N.”

You swallowed, the sickening understanding finally dawning on you; he was right, the police would believe you. They just wouldn’t move because they were KQ’s lapdogs. You gasped when Mingi nibbled on your ear. “Yahtzee. That’s my girl,” he whispered, voice rough. “See? You can be smart if you want to be. A smarter choice would be to listen to everything I say from now on.”

You didn’t understand what he meant until you felt his hips grind against your behind, the feeling of his hardness palpable especially in this position. “Go to hell, Song Mingi,” you growled, not hesitating to tilt your head, the back of your skull catching him square on the face. “You can fucking shove it. You think this is a game to me? You murdered people. You terrorised me every single day, almost got me hit by a car, and almost burned me, you psychopathic pervert.”

Mingi grunted, grip on you relaxing as he clutched his face in pain. You took that opportunity to break free, kicking him again just to make sure he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. It worked, even setting him a few steps back. “You’re retaliating,” he pointed out flatly. The only sign that he was getting angrier was the cruel glint in his eyes as he watched you and the violent rise and fall of his chest. “That’s fine. I love the initiative. I just love punishing it more.”

You screamed both in pain and surprise when he lunged, grabbing you by the hair to force you to look at him. “Here’s what’s going to happen, sweet pea,” he whispered, nothing short of sinister, sliding his other hand to your throat and starting to squeeze. “I’m going to have you. Do you know what that means?” He paused to chuckle grimly. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to wriggle out of his hold, but Mingi’s hand just tightens. Tears collect in your eyes in fear, but there was something else too, something you refused to admit. That realization made your stomach turn because you were supposed to hate this, yet you were here. You had gotten so used to Mingi chasing you that it started to feel wrong if you weren’t on edge. You had started to associate Mingi with adrenaline and needed him for excitement.

But still, this was wrong. You weren’t going down for this. Not for him and not for whatever twisted hold he had managed to build around you. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time. I knew from the moment I saw you on that trail that you were something special, but I had to wait. Now,” his husky voice purred with a hint of barely concealed warning. “You’re going to give it to me. I don’t enjoy hurting you, but I will if you don’t listen.”

You were absolutely not going to accept whatever he planned for you without a fight. With all the strength you could muster, you punched him square in the jaw. His eyes widened for a fraction as he groaned in pain and you pushed him away, chest heaving violently. You didn’t hesitate to hit him again, but he managed to grab your arm before you could, lifting his own hand to backhand your cheek, causing you to stagger at the sheer force of it, your face already pulsing in pain.

“Not bad, love,” he laughed, massaging the jaw you hit. “I would like to not do that again, so how about this? You apologise to me and say you’ll be a good girl and you won’t do it again. Make it sound good and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you and go easy on you.” 

You spit on his face after that statement. Mingi closed his eyes to contain himself, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he wiped your spit off with the same hand he used to backhand you. When he opened his eyes again, you knew you were done for. His body was fully locked in, jaw locked stiff, rage simmering behind his eyes beneath deceitful calm - the type of calm that meant he’d already decided to hurt you. He just didn’t know where to start.

You made a run for the door, but unfortunately, Mingi was faster. He slammed the door shut before you could even get near. “I let you run off for too long now,” he hissed, yanking you away from the door. “You’re mine, Y/N. I’m going to have fun making this lesson memorable for you.”

You refused to stay still, kicking and scratching at him with all your might. “I don’t belong to you, Mingi,” you seethed. “You don’t own me, and you can’t just force me into it!”

He stared at you, eyes hollow and vacant in the most terrifying way, every trace of mercy deliberately carved out and discarded. “Your life was over the second I laid my eyes on you. And let me tell you something, I rarely want because I already know the outcome. But let me ask you this,” he said softly, holding your face deceptively gentle. “Who are you trying to convince?”

He barely let a second pass before he tightly held your head, keeping you still as he crashed his lips against yours. There was no tenderness in his actions; just viciousness and brutality. You whimpered in resistance, biting his lower lip until you tasted blood. He groaned at the pain, pushing you away to slam your head by the door. That caught you off guard, but if he was going to hurt you, then you’d repay him in kind.

That head slam did stun you for a moment. You couldn’t stop him when he threw you on the bed, immediately straddling your legs, holding your arms above your head. His eyes clouded, pupils blown over from pure desire, cursing under his breath. You gasped when he ripped your shirt clean off you with one hand, yanking your bra aside to squeeze your tit harshly. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fuck, you look so good like this beneath me.”

You hissed in pain and started to struggle even though desire ran rampant through your veins, hot and searing, but Mingi wasn’t budging. He bent down, closing his mouth around your nipple, his tongue tracing around your sensitive bud. You groaned in response, arching against him as you were torn between your body trying to decide whether it wanted him gone or worse, inside you. When he pulled back just an inch, his smirk was knowing, pure of nothing but sin.

“Don’t do this, Mingi, please,” you all but begged, squirming weakly against the restraints of his hands, but for naught. He responded with a quiet huff. He slid his jacket off, revealing broad shoulders clad in a tight, black tank top that left nothing to your imagination. You jerked your head away when he tried to kiss your jaw, but you just felt him smile against your skin.

“Ah, ah. No begging yet, sweetheart. Not unless I tell you to,” he murmured, licking all over your neck all the way down to your shoulders and started to suck and bite. Mingi was indulging himself, ravishing you and relishing in your pain. You hissed, slightly relieved that your body wasn’t betraying you. That is, until you felt his hand starting to travel down.

“M-Mingi,” you whimpered when he immediately put a finger in you, not even waiting until you were ready, eyes glinting at the sound. He was gentle with his strokes, hitting you in spots you didn’t even know were possible. It elicited humiliating cries from you and you just wanted to die then and there. "You’re making a b-big mistake,” you panted helplessly against his ministrations. “I-If I don't show up, people are going to look for me. You're a damn fool."

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. You gasped loudly when he pushed another finger in, keeping the pressure until he was knuckles deep. “Let them look,” he replied flatly, not caring in the slightest, pushing in and out of you. You closed your eyes tightly, your whimpers turning into screams when he pushed a third finger roughly. He made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re beautiful when you scream like this,” he growled.

It hurt badly, but that pain started to ebb slightly when he started circling his thumb against your clit. It was agony on top of another. You writhed against him to try and reduce the overwhelming sensations attacking you, but it didn’t work. You moaned helplessly when his fingers sped up, his thumbs pressing down on you, until you were screaming for dear life. “Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me,” he whispered over and over again, voice getting huskier with desire.

And you did. Mingi had to hold your trembling body tight to ease you back slowly. Tears streamed down from your face - both from pain and intense pleasure - and he didn’t hesitate to lick them off. Your head lolled back, your body exhausted from just that one ordeal. “I’m going to kill you after this, I swear,” you whispered when he pulled his fingers out and got up from the bed to leave you alone for a bit. 

You heard Mingi chuckle almost fondly over the sound of something you refused to acknowledge - the sound of something metallic clinking followed by a zipping sound and fabric rustling. “You do that, love. I’d like to see you try,” he replied simply as he got naked, exposing hard muscles that lead to his cock. Even through the haze, your eyes couldn’t help but widen.

Your heart was beating crazily with fear and you had half the mind to scramble up, scooting away from him as far away as possible. Mingi stalked towards you, utterly predatory, grabbing and dragging you by the legs until your ass hit his muscular thighs. He tried to pull your pants off, but you weren’t having it. You kicked at him, successfully hitting him once or twice, but Mingi was heavier and much stronger. Eventually, he was able to get rid of your pants along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and exposed for him.

You were panicking. If you let him touch you, your resolve would weaken and you knew it. Mingi knew it too. He wedged himself between your legs to pin your wrists above your head, nudging himself against your entrance before he finally thrusted in hard. “Mingi,” you cried out loudly, half in pleasure, mostly in pain. You felt full, the fullest you’ve ever been, and the suddenness of his thrust made your insides sting and black spots to dance behind your eyes temporarily.

Mingi wasn’t faring any better. He inhaled controlled breaths, lips pursed together in great effort not to lose himself to the sensation of your tight cunt. He grunted low, the veins on his neck pulsating with great need. When he leaned back slightly to look at you, you moaned in surprise. Just there by the surface was a look of barely-contained lust and sadism, his eyes hazing out with pure desire. You clenched around him and it was enough to drive him totally wild.

“You’re mine, Y/N, you hear me? I’ll make sure of it. Gonna fuck you so hard and have you screaming for me every night from now on,” Mingi growled, voice guttural and dripping with arousal, leaning down to kiss you, but you turned your head away. “Am I going to have to break you?” He asked softly, clearly not looking forward to the idea, but not completely opposed to it either. “I’m already inside you, baby. Not much you can do but give in, really.”

You squared your jaw in defiance. “Drop dead, Mingi,” you spat venomously.

You cried out sharply when he started thrusting into you, rough and fast just like he intended to. You couldn’t even moan out properly - he was using you as if you were a sex toy only made for his pleasure. “If you’re not going to listen to me, I hope my dick sends my message well,” he laughed sadistically at your cries and resistance. “Now, do you understand?”

He kissed you, tongue demanding to be let in as he rocked his hips to ease his cock into you over and over again, not stopping until you felt his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. He let go of your wrists to wrap around you and held on tight, thoroughly claiming every inch of your body he could touch as his. Your pride wouldn’t let you off, so you still fought him as much as you could, struggling under his restraints while you tried to distract yourself from the feeling of his cock impaling you over and over again.

But Mingi wasn’t having it. He slows down his thrusts, giving you time to get yourself together, but not before he grabs your arm, pressing and squeezing hard at a particular spot that hurts so much that you let out an actual scream of pure pain. “Ow, ow, M-Mingi, you’re hurting me,” you whined, involuntarily squeezing his cock in because the pain mixed with his cock hitting your spot over and over again did something to you. “Stop it, stop—”

“Then stop resisting and give in to me,” he said, letting go of your arm, rubbing the bruised skin tenderly for a moment. “I meant it when I said I’ll make you scream. I just didn’t specify how. And I can do it again and again until I’m satisfied. Do you want that, little love?”

You glared at him, angry tears falling from your eyes. You took a deep breath in, trying to regain some of your dignity and strength. If he wanted a clear answer from you, then he was going to wait a while. Mingi smiled nastily, pulling back out only to thrust back in viciously, pleased when you let out a guttural moan. “I told you you were mine and I meant it,” he simply said.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe it. You absolutely did, God, you really did. Your heart was aware and your body was more than willing, but your mind refused to acknowledge it. You scowled at him, expression full of loathing and hatred. You sure as hell weren’t going to tell him that. But somehow, the glint in his eyes told you he already knew as he increased his speed in fucking you. “Go fuck yourself,” you sneered. “You are never going to have all of me, I swear to you.”

“Is that so?” He raised a brow, amused. He angled his hips in a certain way and it hit a spot in you so good that you couldn’t help but keen. He did this over and over again that once you got over the initial discomfort, Mingi’s body started to feel disturbingly comfortable against yours. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, pleased with your reactions. “I swear your pussy was made for me.”

You shook your head in denial, but that just prompted him to increase his speed just a little. You started to feel heat rising within you and at this point, it was getting difficult to deny just how good this was getting, but you weren’t giving up just yet. You moaned in dissatisfaction, struggling just a bit as a futile act of defiance. Mingi clicked his tongue in annoyance, and in retaliation, lifted your legs up to your chest so he could go even deeper and you swear you saw stars.

“Did you like that?” He growled, sliding his hand down to your ass so he could pull you against him even harder. His other hand went behind your head to pull your hair, dragging your head upright. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Tell me you like it while I fuck you hard, baby.”

You whined in response, your brain not entirely cooperating with your body anymore. “Yes,” you replied without thinking, arching your back against him. You regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth, but there was nothing you could do to take it back anymore. 

Mingi shuddered. “God, you little whore. You’re so fucking beautiful, and so dirty just for me.” he moaned, utterly wrecked, before his eyes snapped back into that dark, sadistic gleam you knew him for. “But only for me, yeah?” He whispered, the threat clear in his voice. “You don’t get to be a whore outside the bedroom. Only for my eyes and no one else’s. Say it.”

You echoed his moan. Nobody had ever spoken to you like this before and your body was burning in shame, but it didn’t compare the burn of being called a whore and actually liking it. You had never felt so desired in all your life and you didn’t know how to feel. “I-I don’t know, Mingi,” you squeaked in admittance, letting out another moan when you felt him fuck into you again.

That moan turned into a whimper when he squeezed your ass cheek painfully. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He scoffed. “Look at yourself, pretending you don’t want this. Pretending you never enjoyed all the times I supposedly ‘tormented’ you. Your pussy is telling me otherwise, little one. You always enjoyed me being in charge.”

“Are you for fucking r-real? Congratulations, M-Mingi. You’ve managed to condition someone to fear you and mistook my survival for desire for y-you” You forced out, trying to sound angry, trying to reel in your moans, looking him dead in the eye. “You know what I actually enjoyed? Everyone’s presence except yours. Even Seonghwa’s as fake as it might’ve been. He’s—”

His hand shot out so fast you barely caught it before it wrapped itself around your throat. “Do not mention his name. And let’s get this straight, you survived because I allowed you to,” he hissed in legitimate anger, eyes reddening at the sheer intensity of it. “Now shut the hell up,” he said, grip tightening enough to hurt you. “And let me fuck you.” 

Mingi slid his cock out of you before ramming it back in with more force. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but Mingi’s feral state didn’t really care. His strong fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you forward to time it with his powerful thrusts. He stared down at you, eyes hazed and mouth parted open that betrayed how good it made him feel. “Ready to give up and tell me how good my cock is making you feel yet, baby?” He groaned.

The roughness in his voice combined with the possessiveness in his eyes sent shivers all over your body and you felt your toes start to curl in pleasure. “Never. I’d rather eat glass,” you gritted out, though the moans and whimpers that fell from your mouth after said otherwise. His jaw tightened for a second before a malicious grin spread across his lips.

“M-Mingi, please, ow,” you sobbed when he put a hand on your stomach, increasing the pressure as he pressed down hard, and you felt his cock kiss your cervix as he thrust the deepest he could go. The force of it hurt and before you could even process it, his other hand slid down to your clit and slowly, he started to rub in circles. You were delirious with all these overwhelming sensations, and your loud moans proved it, but goddamn, it felt good.

It scared you. You shouldn’t feel this way. In all the months you’ve been with Mingi, you’d never felt more alive. It was easy for you to leave from the start. He was brutal and rough, but the way he looked at you and obsessed over you was something you couldn’t ignore. And that was the problem. Your body suddenly tensed with fear because you were getting attached. Mingi felt the tension and paused. “Relax, love,” he murmured. “I don’t want it to hurt. Not too much, at least.”

He was never going to stop, and you knew how much this could hurt if you continued to tense up. So as much as you hated it, you tried to relax, gasping and feeling your cunt clench around him as he worked your clit, echoing his moans when he picked up the pace. “So fucking good, baby,” Mingi groaned harshly, the movement of his hips becoming erratic, breathing getting heavier.

He started to bite all over your shoulder, nuzzling your neck to pepper it with little kisses, his hand traveling from your tummy to your tits, alternating between squeezing and pinching your nipples. And when his lips found yours to set another brutal onslaught, eventually you found yourself kissing him back, no less brutal than him. It was all tongue and teeth gnashing against one another. “Mmm,” you moaned helplessly in his mouth, focusing on your pleasure this time.

To your surprise, Mingi slows down. Instead of the fast and shallow pounding, it became longer and deeper. You whined in response, not being able to believe that this could feel even better. His eyes were smouldering as he looked at you, pulling back and sinking into you over and over again with surprisingly gentle motions. “Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered.

You couldn’t speak, but it didn’t matter. Your wanton moans told him everything he needed to know. “You love this,” he grunted, pausing in between to suck and bite your neck. You moaned out a quiet response, pulling his hair a bit in affirmation. “Fuck,” he growled, shuddering at the sensation. “Tell me again,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You felt a wave of shameful pleasure ripple through you at the thought of actually having to repeat yourself but louder, especially while looking to those eyes that you feared so much these past few months. Your lips stayed shut, too embarrassed and prideful to say what he wanted to hear. He huffed impatiently, coaxing a response from you. “M-Mingi, please,” you whined.

But Mingi knew you. He leaned down, nuzzling your neck to position yourselves into an intimate embrace so you wouldn’t look him in the eye and you knew that you just ran out of excuses. “You drive me fucking insane, I swear,” he confessed through grunts. “Tell me what you want, baby doll, I’ll give it to you. Just as I’ve given you everything so far. I’ll put you on top so you can ride my cock and tell me, do you want that?”

You let out a breathy ‘no’ in response and he smiled against your ear. “You love it when I’m top of you, hmm?” He asked, voice getting huskier. You had to hold on to his shoulder to stop yourself from feeling faint. “You love it when I hold you down like this? When you feel dominated?”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, not being able to take it anymore. He growled, pleased with your response, sinking his teeth into your throat before he leaned back again, groaning when he saw how far gone you were, and it was all for him. “I do, Mingi, I do, Please.”

He grasped your chin roughly, making sure your entire attention is all on him, all traces of pleasure gone to be replaced with the familiar sadism and brutality for a second as he spoke. “If you ever look at someone the way you’re looking at me right now, I’m going to destroy you,” he asserted, the threat coated with nothing but the truth and the determination to carry it out if you ever even think of crossing him. “I promise you that, Y/N. I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

His thrusts became downright rough once more as he filled you over and over again, his intent clear with the goal of making you come. It should have hurt, but you didn’t care about the pain anymore. Your fingers curled, scratching his skin in desperation, and somehow with that  threat, you lost it. You opened your mouth to let out an animalistic sound you didn’t even recognise as your own, body bucking against Mingi’s as waves of pleasure finally crashed over you.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock. God, baby, you’re gonna make me fucking come,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to chase his own high. His hips jerked, pressing his forehead to yours and let out a primal growl that sent a thrill through you. A harsh moan of your name escapes his lips as you feel his cock pulse, warmth filling your insides to the brim.

You were exhausted, laying next to Mingi as his cum started to drip out of you, but you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was sleep all week. The regret was already building, but you were too tired to even entertain it. You were about to fall unconscious when you felt him stir beside you. “Come here real quick,” he muttered before his hand shot out, gripping your jaw hard to force your face towards his. “Open your mouth.”

Your pulse hammered as you fought the urge to pull away, but you do as he says anyway, eyes widening in surprise and panic when he stuck his fingers in. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began calmly, pausing to watch every flicker of emotion cross your face. “You’re going to freshen up so you could take a quick nap, pack some of your clothes, and then go downstairs. I’m going home and you’re coming with me. You understand that so far, little one?”

Your eyes widened, hesitating, but he sticks his fingers a bit deeper in your throat and you choke on them. “I said, do you understand me?” Mingi reiterated. You finally gave him a reluctant nod, tears in your eyes. “Good,” he said, taking his fingers out. “Get rest. I’ll wake you up after.”

He released you as though nothing had happened, getting up to put his clothes back on. The second he turned, you lunged. The lamp left your hand before you could think, crashing against the wall as he sidestepped it with irritating ease. “You have got to stop trying to kill me, Y/N. You’re giving me a massive hard-on,” he clicked his tongue. 

You grabbed another random item, but all he did was grab your wrist, exhaling tiredly rather than in anger. “Stop it. I will fuck you again, I mean it,” he said. “And when I do, I will be forced to drag your pretty ass with me because you’re not going to be able to walk after. You and I both know I’m very, very well-versed in dragging dead weight.”

The certainty in his voice chilled you far more than the threat itself. His words lodged something deep in your chest, though. He moved at ease like nothing between you happened when in reality, everything happened. “You’re shameless, you know?” You scoffed, breathing ragged to contain yourself. “I understand you want to assert control over me, but there are better ways. I don’t believe that you were actually going to kill me, so do you even like me, Mingi?”

His eyes never left you and that only made the anger in your chest fester. Mingi didn't say anything for a while and he looked like he was actually genuinely thinking of what to say in response to your loaded question. “You wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t,” he finally said. “And I was going to. I tried many times. Failed multiple times. Backed out twice as much.”

You were taken aback, blinking in disbelief. But the way Mingi stared at you dead in the eye with seriousness on his face told you that he wasn’t lying. You bit your lip, swallowing down emotions you didn’t dare name out loud. “No. Do you even honestly care for my well-being?” You said instead, ignoring his second answer. “Or do you just want to possess me just because you can?”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment. There wasn't a flicker of guilt in his face, just that same maddening composure. “What’s the difference?” He asked, the question landing with no emotion as though the distinction had never once occurred to him.

Something in you just fell apart then and there and for the first time since meeting him, you didn’t have any retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion more than defeat. “You scare me,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes burning with tears you knew he could see. “You genuinely scare me, Song Mingi.”

His mouth parted in surprise, brows raising a bit as if he expected you to say anything but that. When he did speak, his voice was softer and quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “On the contrary,” he began breathlessly. “You scare me.”

You frowned. There was no manipulation in his voice. His gaze wandered slowly across your face until he met your eyes without blinking. “This,” he said softly. “The way you’re looking at me right now. I was wondering whether there was anything underneath the fear and disdain.”

The words were quiet, even your heartbeat was more deafening. His tongue pressed against his cheek. “I’m scared,” he repeated calmly. “Of the day you stop looking at me like this.”

You huffed in defiance, folding your arms over your seatbelt, refusing to acknowledge Mingi as he drove. It wasn’t like you were the only one not speaking anyway, the moment he basically shoved you and your haphazardly packed luggage in his car, he hadn't spoken a word. “Where are you taking me, you brute?” You asked harshly, not being able to take the silence anymore.

A small smile takes over Mingi’s sharp face and you have to stop the urge to curse out loud. The light hit his handsome features just right, his darkened hair falling over his forehead slightly as he effortlessly manoeuvered the wheel. “Home, I told you,” he said. “Have I not made myself clear enough? I won’t do anything to you, little peach, so don’t worry.”

“That’s not gonna be good enough,” you replied in anger. “And I was home. You know, the one you broke into - which I still don’t know how long you’ve been in there before you ambushed me, by the way - and the one you took me from without permission. I want to go back.”

“Well, this is the best you’re going to get,” he retorted, something flashing in his eyes quickly before it disappeared. “You’re in no position to make demands here. You’re mine. I’m the one who gets to decide what happens to you from here then on so I suggest you get used to it. Or you can spend the rest of your life being chased by me. You pick. I don’t mind either option.”

There was a fleeting second where you imagined both scenarios, and both of them made you tremble either way. You sneered at him in an attempt to look as though you weren’t flustered. “I really, really hope you rot in hell, Mingi,” you glared at him venomously. “Truly.”

He laughed. Really laughed. The kind that made his body vibrate, eyes crinkle almost shut, and all of his teeth bared that reflected his genuine joy. “And here I was thinking that you’d be a little more cooperative after waking up from that power nap,” he chuckled. “Regardless, I can always use more methods of coercion if you can’t be civil with me.”

“Civil?” You echoed in disbelief, a look of disgust on your face. “Look at me!”

He spared a short sideways glance towards you, smirking at the sight of the hickeys and bruises that littered your skin, savouring the wince you let out when he purposefully hit a road bump just now. “Nothing that won’t heal in a matter of days,” he brushed off nonchalantly, killing the car engine. “Though that could be arranged right now if you’re interested.”

You weren’t going to give him the reaction so you stayed silent until he rounded up in the nicer part of the city, clearly away from your tax bracket, and killed the engine in front of the fanciest building in the area. “Get cosy,” he muttered the moment you both entered his place and closed the door, taking his jacket off and tossing it somewhere before setting his wallet and keys on the marble kitchen island. “I have a quick phone call to make. I’ll be right back.”

It was only until he left that you allowed yourself to breathe. You let your eyes drift around the apartment. It was beautiful, that much was undeniable. You weren’t surprised; Mingi had money and he sure acted like it. Yet somehow, it felt empty. Not because it didn’t have Mingi’s personal effects, but because it lacked life. There was something about this apartment that felt so hollow to you, like it was more of a showroom rather than something that’s supposed to be lived in.

You don’t know what compelled you to explore. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was boredom, but either way, you weren’t going to sit still and wait for Mingi to come back. Truth be told, it just screamed Mingi all over even though there wasn’t much. The apartment had a modern touch to it, little knick-knacks here and there organised neatly, a small table with a crystal decanter full of whiskey, and just about everything that you knew Mingi had meticulously curated himself.

Something that looked out of place, however, was a glass cabinet situated in the corner. It was clean, too clean, not one speck of dust and you can easily tell that this was the only sign of life in this place and that Mingi took very good care of it. You took a closer look and frowned. You were expecting a wine collection, or perhaps luxury items like watches and whatnot, but not these.

Awards, medals, and trophies. Not a lot, but still a significant amount. One in particular was a medal encased in a fancy box, another sat in an acrylic display with nothing else. None of them were engraved, nothing to signify what they were for, not even photographs of Mingi receiving them or dates, but all of them did have a small insignia, but you didn’t recognise what it was.

What you did recognise, though, was the folder that was in the middle of the dining table when you turned around. You bit your lip, glancing down the hallway where Mingi disappeared to. You really shouldn’t, every instinct screamed at you to leave it alone, but you picked it up anyway. The moment you do, that familiar adrenaline rushes back to you. This was the same folder you found in Mingi’s office back then, the one where you almost got caught looking at.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, K.O.S. You swallowed, it was the exact same, only this time, you noticed the same unfamiliar insignia when you opened it. You didn’t get the opportunity to do so back then, but something in you had this need to see what it contained as if your life depended entirely on it. And maybe it did, you were about to find out.

The first page contained a photo of a man. There were categories alongside that split into categories like basic information, aliases and financial records, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. “Charges?” You murmured in confusion, eyes widening when you read further. “What the hell? Mass weapon distribution ring?” You breathed out, a knot forming in your chest. 

You haphazardly turned the pages, not caring if they get wrinkled or not, quickly skimming through everything, unable to stop the trembling of your hands. There were more people, charges more alarming than the last - extortion, cybersecurity threat, political anarchy, and money laundering to name a few - but then it just got worse. The worst ones you saw were drugs and human trafficking, organised crime, and homicide. But all of them had the same thing.

TARGET STATUS: NEUTRALISED

You put your hands to your mouth when you flip to the next page, trying not to puke. It was the man from the trail, the one whose dead eyes still haunted your nightmares sometimes. Witness intimidation and international warrants, it said. Mr. Yamada was there as well. The same lecherous smile, same expensive suit, but this time he had political corruption and sexual exploitation labeled to him. Both of them had the same status - neutralised.

Your vision blurred, knees threatening to buckle as you barely held onto the edge of the table for support. Out of all the things you did and saw, you knew deep inside that this was the thing you should’ve never crossed. None of these made sense at all, and worst of all, why was Mingi in possession of something this detrimental? Your breathing became increasingly uneven, hands trembling so violently that several pages slipped through your fingers at once. 

You instinctively bent down to retrieve them, but before you could reach it, another set of fingers grabbed them first. You paled, gaze slowly climbing upwards to meet Mingi’s eyes. His eyes were unreadable, but you were positive he wasn’t mad. “I-I can explain,” you blurted out anxiously.

He stared at you for a few seconds, finally letting out a sigh before putting his phone back against his ear. “Change of plans, Joong. Stay where you are,” he spoke tiredly, pausing to pinch his nose bridge with his fingers, eyes closed. “The little birdie found the worm all by herself.”

Mingi ended the call. He glanced down at the papers you dropped and one of them in particular had him tense for a second before he calmly placed everything back at the table. His eyes went back to you, waiting for you to say something. “What,” you cleared your throat when your voice cracked. “W-What are these, Mingi?”

His stare was uncomfortable, not because it was loaded since his eyes held no contempt, no accusations, and no anger, but because it felt like he was trying to read you just so he could reply accordingly - something he never really did with you. “You tell me,” Mingi spoke softly, almost thoughtful. “You have talent in snooping and you’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

You swallowed. God, this felt like a test of some sorts. “You’re blackmailing these people,” you blurted out, saying the first thing that popped in your head. “A-And when they don’t give you what you want from them then you…neutralise them.”

Silence. For the first time since you’ve met him, Mingi was actually speechless. Ridiculously so. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes blinking at you multiple times as if he was trying to convince himself he heard wrong. And then, he laughed out loud, the utter disbelief audible from the sound. “You really are something, Y/N,” he chuckled fondly. “Out of all the scenarios you could give, honestly. Well, I suppose that is one way to insult me.”

He walked towards the glass cabinet, pulling out a hidden compartment you didn’t even realise was there. Inside sat more paperwork, multiple passports, some handguns that made you freeze, but he set those aside to grab a small wallet. He picked it up, pursing his lips as if deciding if this was the right thing to do, before holding it out towards you. “Open it,” he urged.

You barely obeyed him. The wallet itself was minimal and elegant, but there was something about it that was heavy. Not because of its weight, but because of what you saw when you unfolded it. “No, t-this can’t be,” you whispered, hands trembling, greatly so. There was an ID, Mingi’s younger face staring at you, eyes less empty but still chilling nonetheless, and there was no mistaking the government seal embossed into the corner along with his information.

Name: Song MingiAge: 30Position: Senior Special Operations AgentLevel: BlackActing Overseer: Park SeonghwaGeneral Supervisor: Kang YeosangOperational Status: ActiveAuthorised to Kill On Sight

A pounding noise filled the apartment and it took you a second to realise that you were hearing your own heartbeat. You dropped the wallet, unable to control the intensity in which your body shook. You shot your eyes at him and his expressionless eyes stared back. “Y-You’re not a serial killer,” you blubbered out in disbelief. “You’re not just some cold-blooded killer who just kills whenever he wants or something?”

Mingi scoffed before he picked the wallet up. “If we’re being technical, I am. Make no mistake,” he explained as he put it back in the compartment, closing it. “But for the most part, no. The government wants these people out. I just so happen to be the best at what I do.”

God, you wanted to slap yourself to wake up from this nightmare. This completely rewrites everything you’ve ever known and believed. You’ve spent the last few months convincing yourself you were trapped beside a serial killer, but was the truth marginally better? You were so out of it that you didn’t hear Mingi sigh before he held your elbows, leading you to the couch and sitting you down. “You kill people for a living,” you stated bluntly.

The corners of his mouth lifted barely into half a smile. “Yes,” he replied, one brow raised in amusement, arms crossed as he looked down at you. “To put it simply, there are people that the government wants gone. The ones that really need to go. These are people that justice will never touch, Y/N. People that range from guilty to national security threats and they’re like ghosts; elusive because they’re aware that people are after them.”

Your mouth dropped. You thought that only happened in fiction. When you didn’t respond, he continued. “When the option of justice disappears, people like me become the option,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “They give me a list,” he pointed at the paperwork on the table. “I make sure that they wish they were never born. Plain and simple.” 

It was insane. Your eyes were being opened to a whole new world out there and that world was literally just sitting right beneath your nose all this time and you barely had any idea. You could barely look at Mingi right now without wanting to break down because how were you supposed to just take this all in? “A-Are there more of you?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Mingi hummed. He tilted his head at you, analysing you. He wasn’t expecting you to ask that, hell, you bet he was expecting you to act erratically. “A handful,” he admitted. “This is as discreet as it gets, there isn’t really a job market for this. The elimination process is…grueling, and obviously, not a lot of people want to do it. You’ve met about half of the entire operation already.”

He smirked when your eyes widened. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong. Different specialties, but same job description, nonetheless,” he explained. A shiver ran up your spine. It made sense, everything made sense - Hongjoong’s attitude towards Mingi and Wooyoung’s nonchalance with Yamada and his reaction at the stairwell that same night. “And you’ve met Yeosang at the gala.”

Your brows knitted. “Good-looking guy, birthmark here,” he pointed at his left temple. And that’s when it hit. That unsettling man who talked to Mingi, how could you forget? You nodded slowly. “He’s the Big Boss’ son. He actually trained me,” he huffed, a small flicker of respect reflecting his features. “Only one of two who are above me by rank. Besides his father, obviously.”

Somehow, that made plenty of sense. You remembered the way Mingi unconsciously straightened when Yeosang approached, the absolute lack of his usual bravado, and the effortless authority Yeosang seemed to carry that felt much heavier than Mingi’s. “And Seonghwa?” You asked. “Yunho? Where do they both fit here?”

Mingi laughed, shaking his head. “Yunho’s innocent, just a regular worker. We still need to keep a legitimate front to keep the operation behind wraps. Seonghwa, on the other hand, he’s a bit…” he trailed off, trying to find the right word. “...different. He used to do what I do.”

The amusement faded from his face before he continued. “He’s been doing this since he was eighteen and he’d already done more than enough. He was tired, but retirement doesn’t really exist in this line of work. Truth was, Big Boss didn’t want to let him go. It would be foolish to let go of the man who perfected this system after all. So, he offered him a compromise.”

It wasn’t that difficult to believe. You watched Seonghwa hold the knife that night. Turns out, the most dangerous man was the one you trusted the most. “The compromise,” you murmured, swallowing heavily. “Was it KQ?”

“Smart girl,” Mingi smirked. “See, for this to work, we needed discretion. We can’t just eliminate them out of the blue and for no reason. People would ask questions, and that’s the last thing we wanted. Unfortunately, these bastards aren't dumb, so it’s extremely difficult to isolate them and make their deaths believable. However, all of them do have one thing in common.”

Your mouth had gone dry, but you found yourself leaning slightly forward to anticipate the answer anyway. “Greed,” Mingi said. “Money and investing makes it easy to lure them out. All we have to do is make it look like a transaction gone awry. Seonghwa gets the life he wants and we get access to the people we need. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“So, in essence, KQ is a real company that runs on legitimate business that also happens to be an intelligence network where Seonghwa still runs things behind the scenes without being in the actual field. Did I get that right?” You asked. When Mingi nodded, you laughed in disbelief. “No wonder you didn’t care if I went to the police or not. I would’ve looked like a massive idiot.”

Silence settled over the apartment. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel because everything just makes perfect sense. In your eyes, he was still a psychopath. The only distinction was that he was the government’s psychopath. “Everything you did was legal,” you sighed in defeat. “Why didn’t you say so? Why let me believe otherwise?”

Mingi raised a brow, amusement curling his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he shrugged.

Admittedly, you didn’t think your question through and it was a stupid one in hindsight. Also, you were never going to get a straight answer from Mingi anyway, at least, nothing that pleased you, but seeing how nonchalant he was still shot anger through you. “Are you being for real?”

Mingi crossed his arms, a deadpanned look in his eyes. “Says you. You were the one playing blind like it was going to work in the first place,” he pointed out, dry and flat. He turns around - which was a good thing so he couldn't see how red you were from rage and shame. You watched him grab only one paper from the folder before he walked back, this time, sitting across you.

Without a word, he slides the paper from across the table. You stared at him for a second before your fingers pulled it towards you. You expected to see another random face in there, but when you saw a blank piece of paper with only your face in it, you almost dropped it, heart falling down to your foot. 

“Relax, sweet pea, it’s not what you think it is,” he immediately said the moment he saw your panicked face. “The system can’t eliminate you simply because you were never a criminal to begin with, much less witness one happen right before your very eyes.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You saw it,” Mingi stated plainly. He pointed at the paper in your hands. “That makes you a witness to an ongoing operation and a walking liability to something that was never meant for the public eye. I’m not going to lie to you, you caused quite the divide with the team back then for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

That caught your attention. “I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You said it yourself. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t mean any harm, I could have kept my mouth shut.”

Mingi smirked, shaking his head cynically. “People die because of what could have and should have. Don’t make me laugh here,” he scoffed. “At the end of the day, I am nothing but an agent no matter how high my rank is and I still had to answer to someone. That meant I had to tell Seonghwa. And Seonghwa had to tell Yeosang. And we do have protocols for this.”

“Yeosang was angry, obviously. He wanted to enact protocol immediately, hence that paper in your hand,” he continued. You swallowed audibly at that. “I happen to fancy you a little too much to let that happen, so I hired you. Having you work for me ensured that you didn’t blab to the wrong people. Plus, it wasn’t like you weren’t dying to work for me, anyway. No pun intended.”

“God, Mingi, you are such a massive asshole, I swear to God,” you scoffed. The way he talked about it rubbed you off the wrong way, though admittedly, you could see where he was coming from. “So, what? Am I supposed to thank you? My life is in shambles now, no thanks to you.”

“Yes, actually, you should,” he raised a brow, unimpressed. “Because lucky for you, Seonghwa took a genuine liking to you so it wasn’t difficult for me to disobey protocol and keep you and convince Yeosang to not tell his father about you, because trust me, you would not like that.”

You stayed silent, not really wanting to know what he meant by that. “Paper’s blank, love. I didn’t go through with it. I had no reason to and I still don’t. Even if they threatened me, I still won’t. You were innocent and I was aware of that. I’m not the animal you think I am, Y/N, and I don’t gain anything from killing civilians.”

Your fingers curled around the paper until it crumpled slightly. It wasn't compassion nor was it mercy. To Mingi, your life had been spared for the same reason someone chose not to swat a fly that landed on them. It wasn’t because it deserved to live, but because it simply wasn't worth the inconvenience. You didn’t know what to feel about that.

You got up, marching towards the dining table to hastily grab the folder before smacking it across the coffee table in front of Mingi, fuming with the repressed anger that had been building for months. “There were a hundred different ways this could’ve been handled. My entire career is a fucking lie,” you seethed. “There was no need for me to be dragged to KQ like some sort of luggage for something I didn’t even mean to see.”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I understand you’re angry, love, but I don’t regret what I did,” he said, gaze settling on you, unwavering. “Big Boss and the other directors aren’t exactly known for being kind, Y/N. If they find out, you would’ve been a goner. Personally, you know I find absolutely no problem in hurting you. However…”

“...that had been with my own hands,” he continued. “I didn’t want them to hurt you. That’s an entirely different beast, and you would never be the same afterwards. You don’t have to like it. But the fact of the matter is that you were there that day. And unfortunately, we have protocol for it. Protocols that are written in blood, both by the bad and the innocent, and they are the reason why order exists on things that aren’t supposed to happen, do you understand that?”

You turned around, ready to walk away, when he grabbed your arm to spin you around, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” he hissed. “I need you to understand that I did what I did to stop them from taking you from me, Y/N. I didn’t want your blood on my hands.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Mingi had spent way too long being angry over him making a fool out of you and you weren’t about to let him do it again. And even then, it wasn’t specifically because he cared for you. “I would rather hurt you once if it means protecting you forever,” he sighed heavily, letting your arm go. “Not one ‘thank you’ from that pretty mouth of yours.” 

That last thread of patience snapped. “Protection isn’t impressive when you’re the reason I needed protection in the first place,” you spat venomously, trying to pry his hand off of you. And there was still something that bothered you more than anything else. “And what about me?” You asked, afraid of the answer, but had to ask anyway. “Where exactly do I fit in in all of this?”

He knew you were at the warehouse that night and he knows that you know that he never needed a translator. Something completely shifted in Mingi’s eyes. That detached indifference dissolved into something more unnerving.  His pupils seemed darker somehow, fixed entirely on you with an intensity that bordered on reverence and possession all at once. It wasn’t lust or desire, not entirely, but it was something much worse that made you freeze.

Fixation and obsession. His hand rose, knuckles brushing your cheek, fingers disappearing behind your neck to cradle it. “Nothing,” he whispered, fingers spreading possessively across your neck, a faint smile tugging at his lips when you squirmed. “But everything at the same time. You and my profession are two separate things. You are my greatest professional failure, love.”

He tilted your face upward, forcing your eyes back to his. “At least that’s how it all started,” he spoke, his expression flattening. “You were my responsibility for the longest time. And I absolutely detested you for being on that trail because no matter what you did, everything would have come back to me. Who do you think they’d kill after they finished you?” 

That sent shivers up your spine. “Keeping you long enough to kill you, myself, if I see you fuck up was my only reprieve,” he chuckled. “But the longer I watched you, the more I found myself just keeping you for the shits and giggles. You are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever come across and I don’t ever want to let that go. The thought of it, alone, is enough to make me very angry.”

His eyes held yours with unnerving certainty, hand tightening around the back of your neck. “You represented the ruin of my art. You saw what I did that day, and yet, you’re still here. Alive…something you’re not supposed to be. So, yeah, I’m keeping you. Whether you like it or not. After that trail, you became mine. Trying to escape won’t do you good, I guarantee you.”

You were horrified. Mingi was completely obsessed with you, and he was never going to let you go. He was never going to apologise for playing with you and it wasn’t because he wasn’t capable of remorse, but because in his eyes, remorse is reserved for mistakes. This was no mistake to him; it was a calculated risk. He had absolute control the entire time and that realisation was more unsettling. You had no idea how you got here from where this all started.

“You are absolutely insane. You can’t just objectify me like this just because you want to, you prick,” you snapped, wrenching your head away from his grasp, taking a few steps backwards. “I’m human, Mingi, I have aspirations and things I wanna do and achieve. I want to be loved—”

“And I will give you those,” Mingi bargained. “Isn’t this as close to love as you’re going to get? You’ll have everything you want and more. I’ll give you everything and I can even learn to love you the way you like it. Being mine won’t be too different from the life you had before—” 

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” you cried out, thoroughly done with him. “I don’t need you. I don’t want to be with you, don’t you get it? I already have people who love me who won’t hurt me or force me into situations I don’t want to be in. I don’t need your fucked up version of love when I already have friends who genuinely care for me waiting for me to come home to them.”

Silence. For the longest time, all you could hear was your own heartbeat. Mingi stared at you, eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. His eyes hollowed out, fixed on nothing and everything at once, before his lips twitched into something cynical. And then, he started laughing. At first, it sounded normal, but when the deranged vacancy in his laughter started to fill the entire apartment, that’s when it truly hit you - Mingi was a madman.

“I don’t know about that, love,” he said, tone almost insulting in its indifference despite the loud, bellowing laugh he let out earlier. “None of these so-called ‘friends’ of yours have called you within the last few hours you’ve been with me starting from when we fucked on your bed earlier. You might want to rethink that statement of yours before I make you. ”

You froze. Every word chipped away at the illusion you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging to, because he was right, and the way he started stalking towards you slows means he knew it, too. “W-What did you do to them?” You stammered, terrified out of your wits as you stepped back, only to be stopped when your feet hit the couch. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm all over your waist to pull you close. “They’re safe. Hongjoong is there as we speak and by now, he’s probably briefed them. Choi Jongho will be put into a witness protection programme. Since Yeosang and I go way back, he did me a favour and put him there. We just had to tweak it a little since the board cannot know he’s related to your case. He will not get hurt, and he will be put in a safer place, that I can guarantee.”

“But can I just go to that same programme?”

Mingi shook his head. “What makes his case doable is simply because he overheard something he wasn’t supposed to. I knew he was with you that night when me and Wooyoung were arguing by the staircase. Yes, you were both nosy, but still very much innocent and are civilians.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the guilt riding on your back lifting at the fact that at least, Jongho was going to be alright. It’s been eating at you that you dragged him into this. “How do I know that you’re not lying?” You asked, suspicious.

He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You have my word,” he said. “Which probably doesn’t mean much. Hongjoong will call in a little to update me and you can ask him,  yourself, then. I knew you were quite fond of my temporary assistant as he was of you.”

Relief hit you so suddenly your knees nearly gave out. For the first time in months, you weren’t thinking about surviving. “So this is it then,” you murmured, putting distance between you two. “You have no reason to keep me here. You’ve let me live alone on my own for months when I was working with you and you can just watch me from afar. Nothing changes so I’m leaving.”

Mingi didn't answer for a while. Then, the corners of his mouth lifted into the smallest smile. Without waiting for him to say something, you started to walk away. You meant it, you were going home. You refuse to play into Mingi’s cards no more, refuse to let him fiddle with you—

“I only mentioned one friend, sweetheart. I reckon you have two you were looking out for.”

The coldest bucket of water could’ve been poured on you on the spot but it wouldn’t beat the glacial fear that ran from your spine all the way to your toes. San. You had to mechanically turn yourself around, your frigid body locking in on itself as you forced yourself to look at him. There was pity in his eyes, but the mocking and contempt in them was difficult to ignore.

“He’s a tricky case, you know?” Mingi chuckled. “He’s a witness by association. He never witnessed anything and was never in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only misfortune he has is being that one sponge who absorbs every information without meaning to. Out of you three, he’s the most extreme liability. You and Jongho both work in KQ. We don’t know anything about Choi San except that he’s connected to you. Do you know what that means, love?”

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You thought you knew fear when you tried to outsmart Mingi on that trail, when you’ve witnessed multiple murders, or when you’ve been this close to being caught many times, but apparently, this was it. “It means,” Mingi whispered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “He’s in limbo. Can’t be in the programme because he didn’t do enough but he also can’t be left alone because Big Boss is very particular about civilians knowing sensitive info.”

“No,” you breathed out, having to steady yourself to the nearest table. Genuine emotion cracked through your composure, and terror flooded every inch of you so violently it burned because this was San. “You,” you let out, voice shaking, lifting an equally trembling finger to point derisively at Mingi. “You stay the fuck away from him, you hear me?”

He was the person who never left; the one person who packed his life into two suitcases because you asked. "You ruined my life," you cried out, voice loud enough to carry to the next generation. "You dragged me into this. You manipulated me and lied to me for months for your sick satisfaction, and now you're telling me my best friend has to pay for your mistakes?" 

He smiled. It was small, but somehow, it looked more dangerous than all of the smirks he’s ever shown you. He had the upper hand and he reveled in it. But he didn’t bother replying; didn’t really need to. The way you unraveled in front of him was more than enough. “What do you want, Mingi?” You asked through gritted teeth. “Just…tell me what you want.”

The question came out more defeated than you’d like. You were tired of this back and forth and knowing him, there was already an answer waiting at the tip of his tongue just itching to be said. Mingi studied your face for several seconds before answering. “Surrender yourself to me.”

You felt sick. “I’ll make sure Big Boss doesn’t even get a whiff of Choi San’s scent,” he continued. “I’ll assume personal responsibility for him and make sure he gets to be in the same programme as your other friend. He will matter simply because he matters to me. And because he matters to me,” he tilted his head, smirking. “Nobody touches him. As long as you’re with me, that is.” 

Your eyes widened at the insinuation. He was basically asking you to sell his soul to him in exchange for San’s safety and he was bargaining it like it was some sort of contractual paperwork. “You’re blackmailing me,” you stated flatly. “You’re a monster, Mingi.”

He shrugged carelessly as though none of this mattered to him. “Call it what you will,” he said. "I call it the only arrangement where everyone you love walks away breathing."

Your knees finally gave out and you collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, your back sliding against it comically slow, squeezing your eyes shut. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, but you were just so exhausted. There was no point because this wasn’t survival anymore. Your consent had long been gone. “Fine,” was all you said even though you shattered on the inside.

Mingi exhaled, but not because he was pleased. It was because he was getting impatient, because to him, your answer should’ve been immediate. He wasn’t entirely pleased because he was already expecting it even though it took you a while. “Good,” he uttered, stepping closer, and for a second he thought he was going to corner you physically just because he could.

But then, he went straight, bending to grab the folder you haphazardly smacked against the table in anger earlier before squatting down eye level with you. “Sign it,” he muttered, jutting said folder towards you. “You’re my little spitfire and that’s what I like about you, but I don’t trust you. I need a guarantee you won’t run. This was what you were bound to do eventually anyway.”

You scowled bitterly at him. As if this piece of paper could stop you from simply running away anyway. You were about to reach and grab the folder, but you paused at the last second. His last statement. That went over your head for a second there. “Hold on,” you frowned. “What the hell do you mean? I’m pretty sure the government has nothing to do with your obsession with me.”

He let out a breathy chuckle that would’ve otherwise been innocent in any other situation. “No, not entirely. It’s just purely for assurance because I realised something rather inconvenient,” he said, thumb brushing lazily over the edge of the folder. “You are going to leave me eventually,” he paused to look you dead in the eye. “So I gave you something you couldn’t walk away from.”

You stared at him, confused. When Mingi saw that you were genuinely clueless, his brows raised, stunned in silence for a few seconds. “You’ve always been very bright, love,” he began, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You fought the urge to shirk away from the infantalising gesture. “But every now and then, you do disappoint me. ”

A chill crawled up your spine. Something tells you that whatever this was will change everything. You just didn’t know or understand how. “Remember this?” He lifted the folder up with a smirk. Your heartbeat pounded painfully against your ribs, not knowing where he was going with this. His fingers tapped once against the folder. “This was just files to you. Now, we have a problem.”

He opened it again, flipping each of the pages you’ve already seen yourself earlier, and he kept flipping until he got to the very last page of the entire dossier, raising it for you to see. A red classification stamp stretched across the whole page, but that wasn’t the part that made your stomach drop to your foot.

GOVERNMENT INTELLIGENCELEVEL BLACK FILESUNAUTHORISED ACCESS STRICTLY PROHIBITEDMUST REPORT IF UNCLEARED

“I…I-I don’t understand,” you blurted out, taking the folder in your hands to read it over and over again, because deep inside, you wanted to deny the facts that were slowly forming into a whole picture in your head. 

Mingi watched your face carefully. “Before today, you were merely a civilian who accidentally witnessed an operation,” he began, that sinister look in his eyes darkening the more he spoke. “And that’s fine. You can’t be punished for something you didn’t do wittingly. But now…”

He leaned, his lips a couple of inches away from your ears. “You’ve knowingly accessed confidential government dossiers, operational identities, assets, agent procedures, and most damning of them all, the criminal’s identities. These are things that must remain in secrecy within. You could have had at least some semblance to your old life.”

You wanted to throw up, the realisation settling into your stomach with sickening clarity and heaviness. He leaned away, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “I really do have to keep you now, love,” he chuckled. “I really, really do.”

Your eyes burned with the sudden onslaught of tears, but you refused to let them fall. You hated that he could read your fear so effortlessly. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt useless beneath you. “That's not fair,” you tried to reason. “I didn't know I couldn't look. It’s my damn fault you dragged me here.”

“Unfortunately, ignorance of the law excuses no one,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“It's your word against mine,” you shot back. “Nobody’s going to know I looked at it.”

Mingi smirked, turning and tilting his head to look up and when you followed his line of sight, you were met with the sight of a small camera in the corner of the room. Of course, you thought bitterly. The walls seemed to close in on you. You clutched your chest, willing for that claustrophobic pain to go away. All you wanted was to have your old life back, and somehow, even that option had been taken away from you.

Amidst all of that, something inside you snapped. Mingi was a very meticulous person. Obsessively so. Even looking around his apartment right now, it was easy to tell how neat and orderly he was, and somehow, a folder that important had been left out carelessly. “You did this on purpose,” you blurted out, breathing turning ragged. 

Mingi’s brows lifted, eyes snapping at you with renewed interest. He didn’t answer, and somehow, that was ironically all the answer you needed. You stood up, something hot and violent surging through you. “You left that folder out on purpose,” you seethed, jabbing your finger to his chest to emphasise every word. “You fucking psychopath, I’m going to—”

Mingi held both your hands to restrain you, mouth stretching into a smile so delighted that it bordered on erratic. “I did,” he admitted, eyes shining not with fear that he’d been found out, but with unbridled excitement. “But I didn’t tell you to look, did I? It was there, yes, but you…” He laughed quietly at first, but your ashen face fell when it got louder. There was something horribly wrong with it. “Oh, baby doll,” he broke off, laughing under his breath. “You can’t blame me for everything. I distinctly remember telling you to make yourself at home, I didn’t force you to look through the folder. But you want to know what I did know?”

His expression changed, not entirely because the ecstatic smile remained, but his eyes had gone colder. “I knew you’d snoop,” he said without any ounce of shame or apology. “I know you. And I know you wanted answers, so I gave you the opportunity to find them. You should be thanking me, honestly, and it’s not my fault you have no self-control.”

Your lips parted, breathing becoming uneven. That would explain why he wasn’t surprised or angry when he saw you looking through the files - he was waiting for the moment that you did. The room spun, nausea threatening to send you into a massive black out. The moment you opened that folder, you had already lost. “You manipulated me,” you said, voice cracking midway.

“No,” he corrected as though he’d rehearsed this conversation long before you’d ever walked into his apartment. “I guided you. You made the choice. I just simply knew which one you’d make.”

Fury-fueled adrenaline coursed through you and broke free from his grasp, shoving both hands against his chest. The impact made him take a step backward. “You son of a bitch,” you screamed. “You planned this, you fucking knew I’ve been trying to disassociate myself from all of this. How can you do this to me?”

You shoved him again, harder this time. Your palms stung and your throat burned, but you barely felt any of it. Mingi barely moved, and somehow, that just made you angrier. “You sick, manipulative bastard,” you cried, tears falling from your eyes but you didn’t care anymore. “You couldn’t just let me go, could you?”

Your hands trembled as you struck him over and over again, each blow fueled by months of fear, humiliation, anger, and helplessness finally finding somewhere to go. For once, you weren’t scared of what your anger might do. You were too furious to care. And throughout this, Mingi may have looked unbothered, but his eyes, they held a reverent satisfaction as though this - your rage, hatred, and defiance - was exactly what he’d been waiting to see.

When your fists fell limp against his chest, his arms came around you. The embrace was unbearably gentle compared to everything he’d done to you. “Relax,” he murmured, hand moving through your hair so soothing that it almost felt insulting. “It can’t be that bad to belong to me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need and protect you from now on.”

Mingi leaned back, thumb brushing beneath your eye to wipe away your tears. You stared at him, devastated by how easily he could turn captivity into something that sounded like security. “You don't get to call this protection,” you muttered bitterly. “I didn’t choose whatever the fuck this is.”

Something unreadable passed through his eyes. “Not everything good in your life has to begin with a choice,” he said. His words made your stomach twist. He released you to take a pen, put it in your hand along with the open folder. “Sign it, love. Don’t make this any harder for us both.”

You stared at the blank line for several seconds, wanting to fight him off, but you were exhausted. There was no point in escaping when the cage had no door. It took less than a second to sign your name, each stroke feeling like shackles tightening around your neck. When you finished, Mingi took one look at the signed paper before giving you a light kiss on your forehead. 

“You should get some rest. I reckon this took a lot out of you,” he spoke, leading your tired body to sit back on the couch, even going as far as to put a pillow behind your back. “I’ll order us food in a bit and then I’ll instruct people to get the rest of your stuff from your apartment. I want you completely moved in and settled within the week.” 

You looked away, not bothering to reply because you knew better. And so did he. As he was in the process of getting your luggage you completely forgot about, his phone rang. It was Hongjoong. “Go ahead,” Mingi coaxed. “You might want to hear what he has to say. You wanted to ensure your friends’ safety, yes?”

And with that thought in mind, you immediately answered. Hongjoong’s brows raised slightly, mouth parting in mild surprise when he saw your displeased face on the video. “Well, uh, this is a pleasant surprise,” he chuckled nervously. “I’m glad to see you, Y/N, I really am, but I need to speak to Mingi. Is he there, by any chance?”

“Cut the bullshit, Hongjoong. I know everything,” you deadpanned. In the corner of your eye, you saw Mingi smirk at your straightforwardness. “Put San and Jongho on the phone before I do something drastic, please. I need to see that they’re okay.”

And they were. In fact, they seemed to be doing a little too well. You couldn’t help but feel relief as you talked to San, who was no less than shocked at the turn of events while Jongho and Hongjoong were eating and laughing in the background like they’ve been longtime buddies. It was difficult to stay mad at Hongjoong seeing as he did at least try his best to remedy the lies he’s built up and gave your friends the safest place they could go after all of this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am,” Hongjoong apologised with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair in defeat. “You didn’t deserve any of this. None of you did. After I settle things here, I’m going to try my best to see what I can do for you, alright? I’ll try to talk to Seonghwa about it.”

You scoffed bitterly. “What else is there left to do? I’m stuck here with Mingi after he made me sign that goddamn paper. And while I appreciate your apology, I’m here to ask about San’s situation. Best case scenario, I want him to be at least with Jongho, but if not, I just want to make sure he’ll be put in the safest place, at least.”

Hongjoong didn’t speak for a moment, blinking multiple times at you as if he was making sure he was hearing you correctly. His brows furrowed as genuine confusion flickered on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked, a clear hesitation coating his voice. In the background, you saw Mingi pause at what he was doing. “And what do you mean Mingi made you sign something?”

The way he asked that last part made you narrow your eyes, your mind numbing out as your blood ran cold. You told him everything - from Mingi telling you that everybody was actually government agents, your role and why Mingi had to make you his translator, the dossier, the witness protection programme , all the way to San’s state of limbo. Hongjoong stared at you, and for a second, his composure faltered. It wasn’t the usual controlled concern you were used to seeing on him. “Mingi told you San was in limbo?” He asked, genuine shock on his face.

You nodded and his eyes widened, muttering a quiet curse under his breath that made your stomach swoop. “Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said slowly, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “He was in limbo, that much was true. But that’s why I’m here - to work it out. Mingi sent me here to clear San. As of now, he’s in the same programme as Jongho.”

You snapped your head towards Mingi. He paused from dragging your luggage in to stare back at you. He was smiling. It wasn’t that smug, triumphant smile he always wore. It was just a tiny, knowing curve. Horror spread through you as you realised something - that Mingi technically never lied. He did tell you San was in limbo and that he’d keep him safe. He just never said when and how. You had just assumed he’d do it after, not that he’s already done it beforehand.

Your eyes burned. At this point, you didn’t know if you were the dumb one for falling for his manipulation over and over again or if he’s that good. You turned back to Hongjoong in panic. “He used San against me,” you blurted out. You told him about you looking through the criminal target files and Mingi pretty much blackmailing you into signing it using the cameras.

This was actually what made Hongjoong reel back in horror. “Did you sign it?” He asked, sheer panic clouding his features. You were rendered speechless, not knowing what to say, but you nodded anyway. “Song Mingi, you made her sign a binding contract? You son of a bitch. I’m going to shoot you myself when I’m done here, I swear to God—”

“It’s not my fault that she keeps falling for it, Joong,” Mingi spoke nonchalantly, not even bothering to pause this time as he hauled your luggage into a random room, a gleam in his eyes. “And you make it sound so bad. I already said I’ll take good care of her and you know I meant it.”

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Hongjoong dropped another bombshell, looking so helpless you almost felt bad for him. “And about those cameras,” he winced, clearly wanting to be anywhere but be the bearer of bad news. “They’re broken. I called to tell Mingi that I had the replacement units. I was about to drop by after I was done here.”

You closed your eyes, a long sigh heaving out from your lungs. It really was the gift that keeps on giving. “Word of advice, Y/N?” Hongjoong quietly spoke. “A leopard can’t change its spots. Even if you manage to beat him and make him leave, he’ll be back with a stick next time. Beat him with a stick he’ll be back with a gun and if you beat him with a gun you better make sure he’s dead because Mingi won’t stop. May we never go to hell, but always be on our way. Good luck.”

You sank back into the couch, staring at nothing. Mingi didn’t need to blackmail you anything - he simply needed to make you believe he would. You had done the rest yourself. You had let your emotions get the best of you and Mingi used this to his advantage. The realisation hollowed you out because how could you be so stupid?

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t. There wasn’t much left in you anymore because you let Mingi lock the door you willingly went into. You crossed your arms petulantly, glaring daggers at Mingi because at this point, there was nothing else left to do. It was over. 

Mingi, unfortunately, seemed extremely delighted, looking too entirely pleased with himself. “For what it’s worth, you took it very well, love. You looked very convincing when you signed.”

Your glare intensified, rolling your eyes and sinking further into the couch, not willing to even talk to him anymore. You let your eyes do the talking - that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even be in this situation. You set your eyes on the folder that had your signature, hoping that it would burn to ashes. with how hard you were glaring at it.

“What?” He asked innocently, a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes. “You never asked.”

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“Your call has been forwarded to voice mail. Please try again later…”

Disappointment fills your chest as a sigh bubbles up from the depths of them. This was ridiculous, you vehemently thought as you paced around your living room, tossing your phone haphazardly on your couch, not even caring where it landed. Everything about this was ridiculous.

For weeks, you’ve been on the hunt for a job after your last one didn’t work out the way you panned it out to be. It was a lot more frustrating than you would’ve liked it to be because it was like staring out into the void - a whole lot of nothing. It wasn’t like you didn’t try either; you’ve been quite diligent at submitting resumés literally everywhere, and when that didn’t pan out, you’d directly call the company to inquire.

If they weren’t going to call you, then hell, you were going to reach out to them. No harm done. Except that was leading you absolutely nowhere either.

“Still nothing?”

You paused your pacing, immediately turning your head to the sound of your best friend’s voice. “Jesus, I forgot you were still here,” you chuckled, combing your fingers through your hair to soothe yourself. “No, unfortunately. I’m about to lose my goddamn mind, I swear.”

San clicked his tongue softly, nodding in understanding, his eyes dropping into that rare softness you only saw when he was trying to give you your well-needed space. “It’s not your fault,” he shrugged, pushing himself off your doorway to make his way towards you. “The market’s just surprisingly oversaturated. And it’s not like you’re underqualified, you literally speak four other languages.”

“I mean it’s not like I’m completely out of options,” you said. “I do have an upcoming interview with KQ Corporation, but I’m not holding my breath for it. I applied for a random position and they’re literally the biggest company in the country so I’m trying to broaden my prospects.”

San whistled, impressed. “KQ? Goddamn. That’s tough, good luck with that one. Though I think you should be fine. Our company is, what, almost on par with KQ and you still got in.”

Your face bunched up in vexation, a grimace making its way up your lips. “As you can see that didn’t really do anything for me,” you scoffed, the bitter taste of your old job suddenly making its way in your mouth. “I got hired to speak Japanese, San, and then they started talking to me in Russian. Do I look like I know how to speak Russian?”

“Lee was a piece of rubbish shit,” he jeered, waving a dismissive hand, lazily plopping down your couch to make himself comfortable as if he always belonged there and lived here instead of you. “I’m about to honestly quit too, I hate working for the guy.”

“If you want to end up jobless like me, then be my fucking guest, I suppose,” you laughed sarcastically, not intending for it to come out snappier than it did. 

San’s brows both rose in surprise. “Woah, easy there, tiger. Didn’t mean to pee in your cereal bowl or whatever,” he frowned. There was a second of silence before he sighed. “Seriously, though, are you alright? I know the job-hunting is getting to you…”

The way he asked it made your stomach turn. Your throat clenched. You swallowed hard, but the lump stayed there, thick and immovable. “I’m fine,” you reassured when his eyes still didn’t leave yours.

It was more than the waiting game or the unanswered calls - it was waking up with nowhere to be, no reason to rush, no proof that you were needed anywhere at all. You told yourself it was temporary, but the longer it stretched on, the more it started to feel personal, like the world was moving forward, and you were stuck watching from behind a pane of glass.

San just stared at you. Finally, he rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips. “It’s a nice day outside,” he began softly, his voice contrasting the mischievous look on his face. “Why don’t you take a walk? Clear that bitch out of you or something before I get pissed at you for giving me attitude.”

And just like that, that glass cracked. Quietly, like it was set down but not quite shattered. You scoffed in disbelief, not being able to stop the laughter that bubbled up your throat. Without a word, you grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair, shoving your arms through the sleeves, movements jerky and frustrated yet determined and energised. 

“Are you going to be fine alone, though?” You asked, holding onto the door frame as you carefully put your shoes on, looking back to hear his response. “I won’t be gone for long.”

San let out a dramatic scoff like you had just insulted him. “Go before I chuck the nearest thing I can get my hands on at you,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Take your time. I don’t want to be disturbed as I raid your fridge and your wine rack.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sting behind them had dulled. You chose to hide them behind your sunglasses. Before you closed the door, you looked back at him one more time and you saw the sarcasm in his eyes melt into something warmer. San tilted his head, gaze gentler than his words. “Go,” he urged. “And bring an umbrella in case it rains.”

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started aimlessly walking. The walking trail was only a couple of minutes away by foot, but being lost in your head made it feel like it was kilometres away. 

At least the trail was pretty. It was lush and full of life; full of unexplored possibilities that brought you back to your childhood wanting to explore every rocky path and staircase that disappeared into the trees. All you knew was that you wanted to walk away from your responsibilities even if it’s only temporary. You were hoping that the fresh air might change something.

For now, you wanted to walk away from yourself. Whatever you were feeling was a pill you couldn’t swallow whole. So, instead, it had swallowed you whole and was now following your thoughts. For now, you kept walking. Not towards anything, just away.

You were currently on the highest part of the trail, on top of that winding staircase that nobody wanted to traverse given how many steps it demanded of anyone brave enough to try. By the time most people reached the halfway point, they were already turning back, laughing breathlessly and deciding the rest simply wasn’t worth it.

That suited you perfectly. Most people preferred the livelier parts anyway, but this place? This isolated, forgotten corner? It was easily the most beautiful part of it. You liked that no one bothered climbing all the way up, and because of that, its beauty remained untouched. No one ever came up here. That was exactly why you loved it.

It was where your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without looking, you picked up, thinking it was San, but it wasn’t. It was one of the companies that you applied for; another one that said you were on their waitlist. Suddenly, the view started to fade into the background, your mood souring entirely.

“I could put you on hold until upper management is free,” the lady on the phone uttered monotonously as if you were just another voice on their roster they had to get rid of. “Though I’m not sure how long that would be.”

“I’ll wait,” you gritted out, trying not to sound let down. You gripped the phone tighter like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground, the telltale music on the other end as you were put on hold ringing in your ear like a heartbeat you didn’t want to hear. 

You knew how this was going to end. It was only one of two; either they put you on hold long enough where you knew they’re doing it on purpose and you’d have no choice but to hang up, or they’d pick up to tell you that they’ll put you on top of their waitlist. You’re just surprised your eyes haven’t gotten stuck behind your brain by how much you rolled them at this point.

But you were in a good mood today. You absentmindedly idled around, still taking in the view as you held the phone to your ear, waiting for what you already knew. Whatever, you thought. If this doesn’t work, you still have KQ. Hopefully.

You dug your free hand inside your pocket, taking out the company card you always carried. You even put a star sticker on it for good luck. You turned the card over between your fingers, the weight of it surprising you every time. Your thumb traced over the embossed letters, in awe of how luxurious even that felt across your fingertips.

KQ Corporation. Of course, you wanted in. They were the best of the best; the crème de la crème of the business world. You’d be set for life. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t special for wanting it. You were just one in the thousands upon thousands of applicants who wanted their piece of the prestige.

You must’ve been so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that you walked into the deeper part of the trail, the one where you didn’t even venture in because the brush was thicker and the trees were denser. It was mostly unkempt because barely anyone went in here. You cursed under your breath when you looked back. You were so high up that going down would take a while because it was steeper to walk down than up.

You decided to walk a little further to find a path that wasn’t as steep, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. Your shoelaces got caught on one of the exposed tree roots that you barely noticed, causing you to trip unceremoniously, dropping everything you held in your hand to catch yourself before you cracked your skull on the nearby tree trunk, using your umbrella to cushion your fall.

You stayed where you fell, palms pressed into the dirt, annoyed at your clumsiness before you started picking your stuff up from the leafy ground of the walking trail. Your phone was only a couple of steps away from you, but your wallet, it wasn’t anywhere near you. Confused, your eyes scanned the ground, and that’s when you spotted it lying on the other side of the trail, further than where it should have been.

With a small groan, you crawled to wherever it was, not caring about the dirt on your clothes. As you were about to grab the worn leather, you stilled, fingers hovering above it. There were voices - two male ones, in fact - and they were close. A little too close for your liking. 

At first, you were going to ignore it, thinking that they were people who ventured a little too far on the trail just like you, but when you heard the distinct sounds of an altercation, it got your attention. Still, it was none of your business. It was an argument you did not want to involve yourself in.

It was the sharp, guttural sound of someone getting choked that had you going completely dead still. Your head automatically lifts to find the source, and there they were. Just beyond the trees was a taller, much bigger man pinning an older man against a tree, his hand wrapped tightly around the other’s throat.

Your chest wanted to cave in. You weren’t supposed to see this. From where they stood, you can tell that nobody was meant to see this at all. But that wasn’t why your gut was churning; you knew deep inside, that you were not supposed to be seen watching this unfold. You didn’t dare move, didn’t even dare breathe in fear that they’ll hear.

The older man choked out a pitiful sound, his fingers desperately clawing the other man’s fingers away from his neck as his face turned into a concerning shade of purple as he struggled for some sort of leverage. “P-Please,” you heard him wheeze weakly. “You c-can’t…”

You were horrified as you watched the taller man tilt his head slightly, not bothering to say a word. He didn’t even look strained as he held the older man hostage even though you knew it must take great strength to force someone’s head against a surface. Hell, you felt like you were straining more trying not to breathe or move.

As the pinned man garbled strings of random words that reeked of desperate mercy, you took this opportunity to stare at the taller man. He was magnetic, and not in a good way. He was broad, menacing in ways that threatened you even from where you sat. His expression was eerily blank as if he wasn’t actively choking the life out of this man.

But his eyes...you did not like them. For a split second as the older man seemed to blabber on and on, his eyes seemed to darken, like an ominous shadow enveloping the humanity in it. Or, perhaps, the complete lack of it. “I-I’ll do it, please, I’ll pay you, give you w-what you want,” the man gasped, his eyes rolling at the back of his head. 

The other man scoffs softly. “I don’t need your money.”

Shivers erupted from your skin at the tone of his voice. It wasn’t that it was low, rough, and rugged - though that certainly was a huge factor. It was the first time you heard him speak after all the broken cries of the other man and you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it again. If his actions already freaked you out, hearing him talk definitely was not going to help. 

“Please, put me down,” the older man croaked pitifully. “P-Put it down.”

It?

That’s when you saw the thing that set this apart from a regular fight between two men. Your eyes settled on the gun the taller man held in his free hand, your stomach dropping as he lifted it, pressing the cold metal on the struggling man’s temple. The motion was sure and final, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been on the other side of the trigger. 

You wanted to throw up. You were done for. You had to get away from here, but how? One wrong move and you were sure you’d be next. You were about to watch someone die and there was nothing you could do about it without giving yourself away. The man’s face had gone blotchy, veins straining as he forced words out past the pressure. “Y-You,” he let out with much difficulty. “You’re going to regret t-this.”

The taller man didn’t react. He just blinked, nodding slowly. “Will I?” He asked, genuinely curious of the answer he might hear next. You wanted to whimper at his sheer indifference.

The pinned man sucked in a broken breath, desperation sharpening his voice. “You think no one’s gonna c-come looking? You’re not untouchable–”

His tirade gets interrupted, letting out a small cry when the man presses the gun more firmly against his head. Your heart just about dropped to your foot at the brash gesture while the latter just lets out a quiet exhale, his fingers visibly tightening even more on the former’s throat.

“Why would that matter to you? You’ll be long gone by then,” he murmured, the faintest hint of something dark curling at the edge of his tone.

 “D-Do you not know who I am? This is—”

“I do,” the taller man interrupts him again, gentler this time. That just made it worse, in your opinion. “And that is exactly why you’re here.”

You were surprised when he suddenly let go, and clearly, the older man as well. He wasn’t thrown to the ground like a rag doll, he was just released, crumpling to the floor as he took in big gulps of the breath that was almost taken from him, dirt smearing all over his clothes as he tried to get away from his captor.

But none of that mattered. The relief was short lived as the taller man took one unhurried step forward, bracing his leg firmly on the ground as he lifted the gun in the air, the finality of it sealing all of your fates - the killer, the victim, and the witness.

Blood drained from your face, but you couldn’t move. It was so morbid, but you just couldn’t look away. The man on the ground trembled, pure and unadulterated panic taking over his entire form. “No, no, wait, p-please,” he begged. “You’re not going to get away with this, Song. People will ask, and they will find you. Don’t do this—”

The taller man stared down at him, expression unchanged save for the slight twitch on the corner of his lips. “You’re right,” he said softly, almost thoughtfully, voice barely audible. “It is highly unusual for big animals to not leave footprints in the snow.”

A soft click fills the air. It was the gun being cocked back in preparation for that one shot, but in the silence of the trail, it sounded like a bone being snapped in half. “But, the thing is,” he continued, eerily calm. “I have very, very small feet.”

Bang.

It was loud. The sound was a split second of finality, but it was deafening. Everything happened in slow motion. The man fell backwards as the bullet that pierced his forehead snuffed the life out of him, the heavy thump of his weightless, limp body falling down the damp soil startling you to the reality that you had just watched cold-blooded murder; you saw somebody die before you.

Faint smoke lazily curled up from the bullet hole on the dead man’s head, his open and unseeing eyes that reflected nothing at all staring up at you, judging you silently. But that wasn’t what made bile rise up your throat - it was the thick splatters of blood speckling your face.

You flinched, eyes closing on instinct as you felt tiny droplets mist across your face, the metallic scent of it making you nauseous. Your breath caught, mouth open as you tried to chase it before you hyperventilated. Your entire body was numb, caught between wanting to tremble like the leaves surrounding you and staying frozen, but the shock of it was preventing you.

You had to get out of here. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want any part of this. All you wanted was to take a walk to relax, you didn’t want to die. But before you could even do anything, a shadow fell above you, enveloping your immediate surroundings ominously.

You stopped breathing then, your fingers curling in your palms, gathering dirt as they trembled. You didn’t look up - you didn’t want to. You could feel him there, staring down at you like he stared down at the man he had just killed, and every instinct in your body screamed at you to run, but you stayed exactly where you were, locked in place like prey that knew better than to twitch under a predator’s gaze.

Neither of you spoke or moved. Time twisted into something shapeless and it felt like a showdown to whoever would crack first. Maybe, your mind supplied in a panic. Maybe if I didn’t move at all he’d leave me alone–

You stopped yourself before that thought festered. No, that would not work. Not in a million years. He’d already seen you, and you know that he knows that you were there the entire time everything went down. Sweat trailed down from your temples, dripping down to the back of your hand. Your heart stopped when your fingers twitched, but that was when a thought struck you.

In a mixture of panic and sheer will to survive - and perhaps, possibly, the most idiotic thing you could ever do - you forced your hands to move. A little at first since they wouldn’t stop shaking, a little because you were scared that your nerves would cause you to topple over. You did it again until your hands dragged clumsily across the ground.

You swallowed hard, doing it over again, all without blinking nor moving your head, forcing your eyes to stare straight at nowhere in particular, your gaze slipping past everything like it couldn’t quite land as you patted blindly at the soil, movements uneven and hesitant while you tried to breathe through your panicked state.

Like you couldn’t see. Because that’s exactly what you were doing - you were pretending to be blind. Please, you internally screamed as your fingers swept all over the ground and purposefully missing your wallet by a few inches. Please let him believe it.

A scream bubbles up your throat when suddenly, the taller man crouches down. He went from standing menacingly tall above you to your eye-level, his face so close to you that you could smell the mint from his breath. You almost yelped when his hand came up to take your sunglasses off - the one you forgot you were still wearing all this time - and he was now staring directly into your eyes.

Your heart wanted to leap out your chest at the suddenness of it, but you forced yourself to look straight past him, hoping to convince him that you legitimately couldn’t see even though all you wanted to do was cry. His unexpected gesture made you fumble, causing you to accidentally run your hands on his shoe, though in hindsight, that might have helped your case. 

Through your unfocused gaze, you saw his brow tilt up. Without breaking eye contact, you saw his hand move through your peripheral vision, his fingers pushing your wallet in the direction where your hands were patting randomly. The silence stretched as you grabbed your wallet, clutching it a little harder than usual, the leather bending abnormally inside your palm.

What now, though? You had the one thing you crawled for in the sweaty palm of your shaking hand, so what now? Your heart was about to leap out of your ribcage. He was still staring, testing to see what you would do next. Even in your stationary gaze, you could tell that he was observing you; trying to detect any sort of deception on your end.

And you forced your eyes to stare between his brows and keep them fully open even when you felt them dry up. Fuck, you thought as dread crept upon you, don’t blink, Y/N, don’t you fucking dare blink–

It was a gradual sensation. You felt it slowly, that thin layer of moisture leaving your eyes. Your eyelids wanted to twitch, wanting to close for that relief, but you held them open; forced them wide. Then the burn came and tears threatened to form as the air around your eyes felt like fine grains, and still, your gaze stayed fixed and empty.

Unfortunately, though, your vision didn’t blur out. Instead, it sharpened in a way that made you notice every single detail about this man. You could see every pore on his skin, the way his icy blonde hair stayed in place even after what he had done, but most importantly, those unreadable eyes.

They showed no particular expression, and to you, that just made this entire thing much, much worse. You needed to know what this man was thinking. It was the only thing that will keep you alive. You had no idea if he was laughing on the inside because of this asinine charade you were pulling, or if his murderous intent had increased since then. You did not know.

Still, there was something chilling about them. Perhaps it was the nothingness in them, or perhaps, that thin, malicious sheen that pulsed with an unspoken threat. Your lashes quivered at the thought and you screamed internally at that blunder. He saw it, you knew he did. His head tilted slightly and you froze harder, if that was even possible.

Then, through your unfocused gaze, you caught the faintest movement. It was his hand moving slowly - the one holding the gun. You stopped breathing completely, but then, you saw him put it away. That should have made you feel better, but it didn’t, because the same hand started to come up until it was within your direct line of sight.

He waved his hand in front of your face, his eyes unblinking as he tested his suspicions, but you forced your eyes to not follow his hands, keeping them dull and off-center. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, his hand started to move forward. Controlled but with certainty, his hand moved until it made contact with your face.

You allowed yourself to flinch at the sudden touch, every muscle in your body locking up so tight that it hurt. His fingers were cold and honestly, you were just bracing for impact, but that didn’t happen. Instead, his fingers lingered, slowly tracing until they stopped on your cheek. He wiped something from your cheek, the pads of his fingers dragging lightly across your skin.

Your stomach lurched. You forgot you unwillingly got sprayed with blood. His hand momentarily pulls away and you watch as he slowly licked his thumb wet before going back in and wiping more of the blood away from your face. It made your skin crawl. The same hand that did not hesitate to pull the trigger felt abnormally tender like you were something so fragile.

It was over as soon as it started. He moved to get up and as you were about to panic, you felt him reach your arm, helping you get up. Your instincts told you to scream and push him away, but you didn’t. Your legs almost failed you as you tried to grab onto your bearings, and when you rose to your full height, your knees almost buckled when you realised that you were only up to this man’s shoulders. You never stood a chance.

You saw him bend down in your peripheral vision, saw him pick up your sunglasses and umbrella before handing them to you. In a morbid twist of events, he even put your sunglasses back on your face before positioning the umbrella for you on the wet, muddy soil of the trail. You swallowed, internally thanking whichever saint was watching over you and for San for making you buy those traditionally long umbrellas.

And for making you bring the umbrella in general, because this man must’ve thought you were using the umbrella as some sort of mobility cane to guide you on your walk. “T-Thank you,” you squeaked weakly, forcing the words out, willing yourself to sound normal even though the sound came out unsteady.

The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs your shoulder, spins you around, and gives you a small nudge forward. At first, you were confused, but you were rendered dizzy when you realised that he turned you to the direction where it would lead to the main part of the trail near the exit. He was basically telling you to go.

The fear locked you into place, and you swear you willed yourself to walk, but you just couldn’t. That didn’t last long because you felt another push on your shoulder, this time, with a bit more force, as if he was telling you, “Go. Leave before I change my mind and end you here.”

That broke whatever mental barrier was hindering you. You gripped the umbrella handle so hard, your knuckles ached, like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Because it basically was. You lifted it, tapping on the ground like you thought people who couldn’t see would, not entirely sure if it looked realistic, but it was enough for now. It had to be.

San walked back and forth briskly in your living room, and had been for the past twenty minutes. His hair was in disarray as he bit his nails anxiously, pausing his walk to open his mouth before closing them again. “I-I just can’t believe it,” he blurted out in disbelief. “He let you go?” He snapped his fingers loud once and you unconsciously flinched. It reminded you of how loud that single gunshot was. “Just like that? He let you go?”

“Yes, how many times do I have to tell you?” You were getting exasperated at this point, stuck between laughing at the incredulity of the situation you found yourself in and crying at how messed up everything was. 

You came home in record time, busting through the front door about to pass out from the lack of breath. San was about to poke fun, but when he noticed how pale you were, trembling abnormally, with dried up streaks of blood on your face, he knew something was not right. “What am I gonna do?” You gulped. “W-What if he followed me here and I didn’t see him? What if he finds me, San? What if—”

“Alright, first off,” he interrupted before he led you to sit down on the couch. “Let’s take a moment—”

“I can’t,” you wailed, feeling tears threaten to fall from your eyes again. Everything suddenly hit you now that you were at the comfort of your own house. “I don’t know what to do, San, I just witnessed someone get shot and die.”

San holds your face in between his hands. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe in with me,” he took a deep breath in, waiting for you to do the same. “Good, now breathe out with me…just like that, you’re doing great.”

It was easier said than done, but you managed to control your breathing by following his actions, and eventually, you felt like your airways were clear enough to get your thoughts straightened out. “I think I should go to the police,” you started, swallowing audibly before continuing. “I don’t think my conscience can take all this burden, I just can’t. I thought crap like this only happened in movies and they all made it seem so easy, but I don’t think I can hold this in.”

“Yeah, you do that, and what?” San raised a brow, pausing to sigh loudly in equal exasperation. “What are you going to tell the police? It’ll be your words against a man I’m pretty sure isn’t hanging around the trail anymore waiting to be caught like a live fish in a lake.”

You ran your hands on your hair, incredulous. “You serious? Are you telling me to just keep this to myself? Someone died, San.”

“Of course not,” he replied in disbelief. “But just think about it - do you even know which part of the trail it is? Do you know what this guy looks like? Can you even describe what this man looks like if they asked you for a composite sketch? You have no proof to bring them, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to retort before forcing them shut. “But, I saw it,” you tried again weakly, clearly grasping for straws at this point. “I saw everything. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It does,” he said, softer now. “To you.”

Your stomach sank. You knew he wasn’t wrong. Best case, they take a report and nothing comes of it. Worst case, they don’t believe you. Not without proof where they’ll start poking holes in a story built on fragments and adrenaline and fear. Your shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of you as quickly as it had come.

San leaned back slightly, watching you with something more measured. “You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “Don’t twist that into something it’s not.”

Your thoughts raced faster, trying to think of how to turn this situation where you didn’t have to carry the burdens of what you saw, but there was nothing; not when you had nothing but a memory you couldn’t even fully trust because you’d spent half of it trying not to see. “So what, I just sit here and pretend it didn’t happen? But…” you trailed off, stomach churning violently. “So in other words, I’m fucked?”

“In many words, you’re fucked,” he scoffed, not at you, but at the situation, as he lightly shook his head. He went quiet for a second before he continued, more gently this time. “All’s I’m saying, let’s not dive in impulsively yet. If this freak had the audacity to do what he did in broad daylight…”

San trailed off, glancing at you pointedly. You gulped. You knew what he was trying to say - that this man was capable and more.

There are a lot of things that are easier said than done. You tried to forget, you really did. It’s been two weeks of constant nightmares plaguing you; two weeks of dread crawling up your skin, festering your insides like a rotten disease that has no cure. Every time you closed your eyes, you’d see man’s eyes that gleamed like a blade in the dark. You just wanted it to stop.

You sighed heavily, pressing your fingers to your temples to stop the clustered migraine making its way up your head, almost tempted to dig your fingers into your eyes just to stop the ache. You had to will them away, now was not the time.

You adjusted your sunglasses to block out the midday sun, gripping the fabric of your pencil skirt a little too tightly and then alternating that with smoothing the wrinkles you made over and over again. You were nervous. Today was a big day, after all.

Because you were currently in line along with other people outside of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, waiting to be let in for an interview. You will never forget getting the call a couple of days ago, thinking that it was another dud from a random company, but when Jeong Yunho introduced himself as KQ Corporation’s secretary and told you that you could come in for an interview, your mind just blanked out. 

The KQ logo sat high above the entrance, sleek and understated and you watched as it swallowed candidates one by one. Getting in the building was just step one; getting inside the lobby for the actual interview was another thing. That, alone, wracked up your anxiety.

“Sorry, but is there a way you could perhaps save my spot for me? I just need to use the restroom real quick.” You didn’t realise that the voice was coming directly from behind you. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure, of course, take your time,” you spoke nonchalantly, not really paying attention to the person.

You didn’t think much of it. After a while, you heard annoyed murmurs and minor complaints from behind you, snide remarks about people cutting in line. You assumed it was the man from earlier coming back and you thought that was that. “It’s crazy, huh? All these people want to be in and we’re one of them.” You didn’t reply at first, but then you realised that the casual statement was actually directed towards you. “Oh, yeah,” you chuckled when you turned around, nervously adjusting your sunglasses. “One can only dream, am I right?”

The stranger lets out a small laughter, nodding his head in agreement. You observed him for a second. He looked handsome, though intimidating in his stance with his sturdy and athletic build. However, his face was soft, his warm gummy smile complimenting his face. “For sure. If only it wasn’t so damn hot out here,” he said, fanning himself with his hand while the other jutted forward for a handshake. “Hi, I’m Choi Jongho. Should’ve introduced myself earlier.”

You took his hand and shook it well, hoping yours wasn’t clammy because he was right, it was hot outside the building. “L/N Y/N,” you smiled. “I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he replied, mouth tugging up with a soft smile as he adjusted his own sunglasses. “For one, you’re the nicest person I’ve encountered today. Been holding that piss for hours now and these assholes just…well. Half the people here are acting like they’ve already been hired. Thank you for that, by the way.”

He wasn’t wrong. People stood a little too straight, eyes flicking over one another in quick, calculating glances, silently sizing up competition. Some didn’t even bother to hide it. Everyone just wanted to one up another. “Don’t mention it,” you dismissed. “Good luck to us, I suppose.”

Jongho was about to open his mouth to say it back, but it never came because suddenly, the energy shifted. The people began to murmur to themselves, clamouring as their voices overlapped with one another. You were confused, but you soon realised what was happening.

Someone important was about to come; someone to impress. Security guards lined up, parting the crowd to make space. You didn’t have to wait long. You felt a presence a distance away so commanding that you didn’t have to look.

There he was. The person moved towards the building with ease like he didn’t need the path cleared - like the world would’ve parted for him anyway. His stride was unhurried and grounded, confident in a way that wasn’t forced. You could easily tell that this person was in charge with the way he didn’t even acknowledge the attention. He didn’t have to.

As he got closer, you got a clearer view of this person. Your eyes traced upwards slowly, taking him in piece by piece, until you stopped at his face. But the moment you did, you regretted it. Everything slowed and your breath caught so sharp that it physically hurt you afterward.

No, no, no, you internally screamed, doom suddenly making your ears ring, easily tuning everything out as you honed in on the one face you’ve been trying to forget for two weeks now. Your heart dropped so fast it felt like it hit the ground.

It was him. The man from the trail. There was no doubt about it. You didn’t even have to look at his entire face, his eyes alone were enough. It was those same empty eyes that contemplated your demise; the same eyes where you saw your end before he let you go that day. And right now, people were parting for him as he walked through with authority. But that wasn’t what made him different today, it wasn’t what made him even more dangerous.

It was the way he carried himself. It was so different from the rugged, aggressive man from the trail. Your stomach lurched violently. What was he doing here? You couldn’t breathe, everything in you wanted to run, but he was getting closer and closer to where you were, and you couldn’t even move away.

And as if things weren’t bad for you already, you swore, you could have sworn, that you saw his eyes flicker towards you for a split second.

But he just moved past you, not stopping, not slowing down, not even bothering to look. He walked straight past, the guards falling in line behind him as he approached the entrance. The doors opened seamlessly, like they’d been waiting for him and then he was gone. Just like that.

It was when your knees gave out. The world violently spun around you as you stumbled. Everything crashed down on you, overwhelmingly and suffocatingly so. The noise, the heat, the crowd - none of that mattered to you. All you could think of was the nightmare you’ve lived for two weeks and now that very same nightmare was haunting you while you were wide awake.

You barely registered the firm touch of hands on your waist, balancing you up. Jongho’s worried face suddenly materialises in front of you, a frown on his face as he used the folder he had on himself to fan you as his other hand held your limp arm to also stablise you. “Y/N? You’re pale,” he pointed out. “Is it the heat? I can get you water–”

“W-Who was that?” You blurted out in a panic, jutting your trembling fingers at the entrance door. “That man who just went in…who was that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s the CEO,” he answered as he helped you up, but all you wanted to do was throw up as his answer looped over and over in your head. That man was the CEO. He was the CEO. He’s in charge. He killed someone two weeks ago and you saw it. 

Your fingers curled tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as panic surged, hot and suffocating. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense. Did he see you? That can’t be. There were no less than a hundred people and you were just one of them. There was no way.

Beads of sweat started to trickle down from your scalp to your jaws, but you barely felt it with how cold your entire body felt on the inside. I have to get out of here, you internally panicked, already planning your escape route. You’d have lost your damn mind if you thought you were going to spend another second in the presence of a cold-blooded killer.

But before you could even attempt to leave, the entrance opens again and out comes someone and everyone falls into a hush when he raises his hand. Even in your frightened state, you could see that this was another person of authority. It was obvious that whatever he said next wasn’t up for discussion.

“We appreciate your interest in KQ Corporation and your time in attending today’s selection process,” he began, voice polished to perfection. “I’ll cut to the chase, if you are not Choi Jongho and L/N Y/N, then you are all dismissed.”

Your heart stopped for half a second. The crowd immediately erupted around you with voices of anger and disbelief as, but all of that faded into muffled white noise. You desperately wanted the high-pitched ringing in your ears to stop, but your limbs refused to move. “If there are any further disruptions,” the man said calmly, cutting through the noise with ease, “We will be forced to escalate this situation accordingly.”

Now, he didn’t say it outright, but the implication was clear - continue fucking around to find out. People still grumbled, but one by one, they started to leave. Still, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was throw up. You had been picked, and now, there was no way out. Not anymore.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice came through, breaking you out of your trance. You turned to look at him, and he still had that stunned look on his face. “This was…unexpected. We should go,” he cleared his throat nervously. He says something more, but you didn’t hear any of it. You were still feeling the aftereffects of your name being called. You were genuinely terrified and trapped. “Y/N?” Jongho frowned, looking back in confusion as to why you weren’t moving.

Your feet wouldn’t move. Inside those walls was everything you'd been dreaming of to advance in your career. The problem was, so was he. The memory hit you all over again - his eyes, the gun, the terror - and you just knew you couldn’t go in there. Your breathing picked up, throat tightening. You needed something, anything, to protect yourself. But before you could stop yourself, your mouth just moved on its own and you blurted out, “I-I’m blind.”

Jongho’s eyes widened in sheer surprise. “What? Oh my,” the latter uttered in disbelief, immediately walking back towards you. “I-I didn’t know, I’m sorry, here…”

He extended his hand, and you almost reached out, but stopped yourself, forcing your gaze to unfocus, tilting your head like you were listening instead of seeing. Jongho was confused why you weren’t taking his hand, but then, he face-palmed himself. “Oh, God, I’m an idiot,” he hissed. “Uhm, is it alright if I hold onto you so I can help you get inside?”

You nodded stiffly, legs finally unlocking as he guided you forward. In no time, the both of you were following the man, who you soon learned was none other than Jeong Yunho, himself. You saw him raise a brow at how Jongho was guiding you, but when he had told him of your circumstances, he stayed silent for a moment. If he was surprised, he barely let it show.

“Are you going to be okay?” Yunho asked as he guided you by the arm to sit down in one of the rooms. Jongho is already being shown his respective position so that left you. “On behalf of the company, I sincerely apologise for any discomfort. Had I known, I personally would have made you wait here from the start.”

Yunho’s voice was soft, and he was surprisingly gentle. It was such a contrast to his cool and intimidating exterior. You had to force your head still, thankful you didn’t have to take your sunglasses off so you wouldn’t have to pretend too hard. “I-It’s alright,” you stammered, trying hard not to sound like you were one step away from fainting. “I’d like to be hired fair and square despite my…shortcomings.”

“Admirable, I like that. I’m sure he will, too,” Yunho hummed. He stood up, patting your shoulder gently once. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. He’s just finishing a phone call, but he’ll be ready to personally interview you soon. Do call if you need anything, Y/N.”

Bile started to rise from your throat, but you had to make sure. “W-Wait,” you stopped Yunho before he walked away. “I-I’m sorry, who’s the he you’re referring to?”

Yunho lets a small smirk slip out before masking it quickly. “The boss, Y/N. This is his office,” he replied, gesturing his hand to the room. “He’s been quite taken with your credentials. You are exactly what he’s looking for.”

You did not like the sound of that. What the fuck does that even mean? Unfortunately, you had plenty of time to think about it as you sat in that chair, waiting for your doom to swallow you whole and spit you out with nothing but bones left. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Life was a joke like that. You knew you were going to see him again. You weren’t meant to stay in peace forever. But, goddamn, you didn’t think it would be this soon. You could’ve gotten more time, at least. Hell, you never wanted to see him at all ever again if it was up to you.

Your gaze lifted, carefully taking everything in. The office was spacious and elegant, but minimal in its decor. Dark, sleek furniture of sharp edges surrounded you, and surprisingly, it actually made sense. It was a mirror of how he was as a person, you couldn’t explain it. And then, you saw it - a metal plate fixed neatly against the desk with his name on it.

Song Mingi. Chief Executive Officer.

Your mouth dried up, eyes focusing sharply on that plate. Song Mingi. The name echoed in your head. Finally, you had a name to match to the face; a name to tie to the crime. He wasn’t just a memory anymore, he was tangible and real. He was here. And so were you.

“Comfortable?”

Hot breath ghosted over your ear. You jerked on instinct, nearly jumping out of your skin, yelping as your heart thundered violently against your ribcage. A low, amused chuckle followed. “Sorry,” a deep voice murmured, not sounding apologetic at all. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Something about that just sounded so…wrong to you. It was a good thing you didn’t turn around, because there he was, the man of your nightmares walking to sit behind his pristine desk. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, terror washing all over you as you tried not to tremble, holding your breath as if that would save you.

Mingi. He was exactly as you remembered, yet somehow worse at the same time. He was still as broad two weeks ago, but instead of a black faded jacket, he wore a suit that emphasized his long limbs. He was still blonde, hair still slicked back, and the pale colour should’ve looked soft in this particular lighting, but not on him.

Unfortunately, it emphasized the sharpness of his features, contrasting his high cheekbones and lips that were curled slightly up the edges like he knew something you didn’t. It also highlighted those murderous eyes, except this time, they were filled with mirth and not in a good way. 

He looked good. No one would be the wiser that this man had no problem taking someone's life. You were about to stand, albeit stiffly, about to offer him a bow in respect, when his low voice cut you off mid-gesture. “No need,” he spoke firmly. You froze, not knowing what to do. “I’ve been informed of your…circumstances,” he continued, that faint curl of amusement still lingering in his tone.

You swallowed. Right. You were blind. You forced out a smile, hands gripping the sides of the chair awkwardly. You were still stuck in that halfway standing position and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even want to move, every inch of you wanted to just get up and run.

“Sit down.”

He said it so quietly that you barely heard him. You obeyed, though, because the way he said it was not a suggestion. So there you were, sat on a cushy chair that felt more like a trap across from where he also sat, not saying a word. The problem was, neither was he. You waited, keeping your posture pin straight as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

Instead, you saw his eyes on you, taking you in unhurriedly and deliberately like he had all the time in the world. Like you did too. Subconsciously, your fingers curled into your skirt, and you saw his eyes trail down at the gesture. His lips twitched a little, eyes shining like he was enjoying this far more than he should. It made your skin crawl.

The silence was oppressive. It made the room seem smaller, the air thinner somehow. Even the faint, ambient noises you might have expected like a clock ticking, footsteps outside the room, and paperwork rustling were absent. It was as if the room itself had decided to hold its breath, waiting to see what the both of you would do next.

But Mingi’s gaze remained fixed on you as though he could sit in this silence indefinitely and emerge victorious simply by outlasting you. There was no urgency in him, no need to fill the void. If anything, he seemed to thrive in it. You shifted slightly, your discomfort evident, and his lips stretched further. He was savouring this, enjoying it far more than he had any right to.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

The words didn’t land immediately. It was comparable to lightning where you’d see it before the booming loudness hit your ears. Your breath hitched, the dread pushing bile up your throat that you forced yourself to swallow. “I-I,” you started, voice cracking embarrassingly before you cleared your throat. “I, uhm, see silhouettes, but I’m mostly unseeing. You get used to it.”

There was a pause before he let out a soft chuckle, and somehow, that was the most menacing thing you’ve ever seen him do. “Do you?” He asked, tilting his head. You nodded weakly, and this time, you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. 

“Ah, I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” he chuckled again, waving a dismissive hand like he didn’t just make this entire encounter the most uncomfortable thing ever. “I meant that as a compliment. Let’s start over again, yes? Would you mind if I touched your hand to shake it?”

“N-No, not at all,” you replied, lifting your hand, steadying your head forward, still keeping your gaze unfocused and out of centre. Mingi does not hesitate to grab it, gripping it firmly, and for a split second, the way he did it reminded you of how he held your shoulders at the trail. Shivers crawled up your spine at the memory.

“Song Mingi, Chief Executive,” he introduced, shaking your hand before letting go. “Welcome to KQ Corporation. I’m sure you’ve heard of us, hopefully only the good things, though.”

“L/N Y/N,” you smiled tightly, putting on your professional stance, pretending that all of this was normal. That wasn’t the hard part anyway, you were good at your job. Your resumé speaks for itself. “It’s my honour to be here, Mr. Song. KQ has been a lifelong dream of mine.”

A ghost of a smirk graces his lips. “Charmed,” he said. “And Mingi will be just fine. We’ll be working very close together, Y/N. I suggest you get used to it.”

You chuckled nervously, disliking the message, hating the way he said it even more. But there was nothing you could do, not as you felt the weight of his gaze dragging over every detail of you just waiting for you to fail, patiently standing by to see when he could dig his claws in.

“Right. Let’s begin,” he started, posture straightening immediately into something more professional. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because, after all, the killer was an established businessman. “As you are aware, KQ invests plenty on international ventures. As do I. My presence is scarce in my own company because I’m always out of the country.”

You paid attention, ignoring the deep drawl of his voice and the change in his demeanor that was throwing you off-kilter. This was dangerous. If he could switch from being a menace to this composed, articulate executive in the blink of an eye, then nothing about him was accidental.

“Now, I had been told prior by Yunho about your visual impairment,” he continued, grabbing a couple of papers from the desk drawers. Your eyes tracked his measured movements without moving your neck, which proved difficult. “And while it is unconventional,” he paused, taking something small from the stack and sliding it across the desk directly in front of you. “Sight is not necessary for what I am hiring you to do for me, specifically.”

Your gaze dropped to his desk, and you felt your head spin so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was the company card you didn’t even know you had lost until this moment. It was yours, and you knew it was because of the star sticker. It also had small, dried up specks of blood on it.

You forced your breathing to stay even, but something in your chest had already tightened, coiling too fast to control. San was right - you were thoroughly, utterly fucked. This was no coincidence. He’d had the card all this time, and he was deliberately showing you.

But, you weren’t going to give in. Not now even if fear was harder to mask when it came from recognition. Mingi leaned on his seat, his gaze sharpening into something more analytical rather than predatory. “Something wrong?” He asked, almost innocently.

You shook your head, putting on a smile that you hoped didn’t resemble a grimace. “No, Sir—”

“Mingi.”

“—I was just wondering what my job description would be,” you finished, digging your nails into your palms. “M-Mingi.” 

A pause. His brows raised ever so slightly. There was a soft, almost inaudible, exhale of satisfaction from him before he went back to inspecting the stack of paperwork in his hands. “I reviewed your resumé,” he spoke, plucking said resumé from the stack. “Very impressive. Your previous company was tactless for letting you slip away.”

And there it was again. He was back at being eloquent. You watched as his eyes skimmed through your resumé, nodding imperceptively the longer he went on. You might even go as far as say that this might be the only time he was truthful with his words and actions. “If I didn’t know better,” he went on, voice lowering just enough to demand your full attention, “I’d assume they were giving you to me on a silver platter.”

Mingi didn’t miss the flicker in your expression. “Anyway,” he continued, the air shifting back into something more cutthroat. “To put this simply, I am in need of a personal translator. I do business with important people overseas and most of the time, you can imagine how challenging the language barrier could be especially if there is a lot at stake.” He paused, letting you absorb the information. “I do not always have the liberty of hiring different people all the time for that. We’re talking massive corporate leviathans here, Y/N. Things that simply cannot be common knowledge for the masses. Are you following me so far?”

You nodded. “I need discretion,” he continued smoothly, eyes hardening aggressively. “And efficiency. I will never compromise on those two. I will expect nothing less than perfection, certainly not while the vultures await. They only feed on decaying matter, after all.”

You straightened slightly. You were beginning to see why KQ was at the top echelon of the business world and why it was difficult to get in. “Understood.”

“I don’t repeat instructions. I don’t find pleasure being with people who waste my time and breath,” he added, almost conversationally. “Nor do I tolerate delays disguised as effort.”

There it was again, that edge that wasn’t loud nor overt, but unmistakably cutting nonetheless. You nodded once. “You won’t have to.”

“Good,” he said, seemingly pleased with your answer. He taps the resumé with his pen twice. “As I said, your credentials are impressive enough for me to overlook your limited vision. I only need you to hear and speak. If your achievements are what you say they are, then it won’t be of any hindrance.”

You could feel him watching you. Not curiously, but with the kind of attention that dissected reactions down to the smallest fracture. He was sizing you up, confirming if you had what it takes. “When do I start?” You asked, voice steady by sheer force and will.

He raised a brow, clearly fascinated. The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly, though there was nothing warm about it. “Interesting,” Mingi murmured, almost thoughtful, twirling his pen with his fingers absentmindedly. “You have maintained composure so far where other people would have folded. I admire your tenacity, Y/N. Truly.”

Your throat felt dry. He was talking about business, he had to be. The double entendre was difficult to ignore, however, it didn’t feel like he was just talking about this, but this was probably paranoia on your end. “I have been told I had plenty,” you replied curtly.

Another ghost of that smirk. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself. “I’m beginning to see that.”

He straightened before you could react, snapping back into place like nothing had happened. “Your role, should you accept the opportunity I’m willing to extend to you,” he said, now all business again. “Will be as important as mine. You are the bridge of communication, the deciding factor on whether KQ stays afloat or sinks beyond. Failure is not an option.”

You nodded, grateful for the clarity. You could do that. It was work you understood and could control. “And if I don’t?” You asked, deliberately.

His eyes held yours, glinting with something that refused to be challenged. “You can either follow the rules, break them, or answer to me.”

There were no traces of threat in that statement, but that lingering tension stayed in your chest. Your own fear was twisting his words into something they weren’t. “So,” he continued expectantly. “What say you, Y/N?”

To leave was diving into uncertainty, but to stay was entering the belly of the beast. You nodded firmly, effectively choosing the lesser of two evils.  It was beginning to feel like a crossroads deal with the devil rather than a business transaction. “Now that we got all of that out of the way,” he said. “I do have one small favour to ask of you.”

“I’ll try my best to accommodate,” you said.

“Might I see the eyes of the person that’ll be with me and my business for most of the time? Plus, I reckon it’s proper etiquette to remove any sort of outdoor eyewear in front of your boss.”

You stopped breathing. Your sunglasses. It was the only thing blocking your eyes from him, the thing making it easier to pretend you weren't actually blind. You took a moment, not doing anything under his scrutiny, frozen under the weight of his unyielding expectancy. You gritted your teeth, upset that you couldn’t worm your way out of this one without being questioned.

In the end, you lowered your head not out of submission, but out of necessity, forcing your vision to blur; to dull itself into nothingness even if you’d be looking the devil in the eye once you remove the protective barrier that was keeping you somewhat safe. But the moment you looked up, your soul nearly left your body.

The fountain pen Mingi was holding was right there, the sharp, gleaming tip of it hovering only a couple of inches away from your left eye. He pointed the nib so close that if you blinked, your lashes would graze the metal - so close that you could feel it. Not just the grizzly pressure of it against your cornea if he actually pressed it, but the coldness the metal radiated.

The fear had left you petrified from where you sat. One wrong reaction - one wrong move - and it’s over. You might actually lose your eyesight for real. You swallowed your terror, willing your eyes to stay unfocused, compelling yourself to not see the pen and Mingi, himself.

And through your bleary vision, you could clearly see the way his lips fought to stay still, how he tried not to let out a smile. “You have beautiful eyes,” he remarked casually like he wasn’t about to stab your cornea. “Such shame. It would’ve been a delight to see those peepers sparkle. Have you never seen your own eyes, Y/N?”

Oh, God. The nerve of this maniac, you internally panicked, vision wavering dangerously as you fought for your body to stay rigid. “At some point, I might have. I’ve long forgotten. I tend to…forget things easily,” you replied confidently, praying that he got the message - that you wouldn’t tell a soul what you saw that dreadful day on the trail.

The corners of his mouth finally gave in, amusement dancing faintly in his eyes. “Do you?” Mingi clicked his tongue, sounding deceivingly thoughtful if it wasn’t for how predatory his face actually looked. “Because I don’t.”

His hand shifted, the pen tilting closer by a fraction. It was just enough to make your heart lurch violently against your chest. You could already imagine it, the promise of pure pain once that sharp metal nib goes through your eye, yet still, you refused to move, not daring to even take a breath in for fear of accidentally stabbing yourself in the eye, instead.

You saw him nod to himself, running his tongue painfully slow against his bottom lip as if he was impressed at your show of obstinacy. “That’s alright,” he hummed thoughtfully, voice deceptively soft. It was terrifying. If you were actually blind, you would have genuinely thought he was comforting you because he sounded so gentle.

“Though I must say,” he added. “Do forgive this ignorant man, but for someone who’s blind, I’m surprised at the clarity of your eyes. They look so clear and unclouded.”

Before you could spiral, a voice from behind you cleared their throat - someone you didn’t know was there until they spoke out. That should’ve scared you, and it did because that meant they've been there all along, silently watching all of this unfold. But for now, you could consider them your saving grace because you were running out of excuses.

“Cut it out, Mingi. Not everyone who is blind has those milky eyes you’re thinking of,” a man spoke disapprovingly. 

Mingi’s eyes shifted to look behind you. His eyes, God, the way they glared at whoever this mystery person was nothing short of terrorizing. They were so soulless and predatory, but that wasn’t why it shook you, because for a second, it was like looking at him two weeks ago again. It was the same look he had as he stared at that man seconds before he pulled the trigger.

“Right,” he murmured, finally lowering the pen and allowing you to breathe. He paused, taking in a breath before he returned to that professionalism you were starting to abhor. “My apologies. I have a lot to learn. Anyway, that would be my personal assistant.”

“Kim Hongjoong,” the mystery man introduces himself. You stood up, purposefully bowing in the wrong direction, to which he chuckled lightheartedly. “I appreciate that. We’ll be working very closely together. I handle Mingi’s affairs a lot.”

You smiled tightly, curious as to why Hongjoong gave a pointed look at the taller man. “Affairs as in now. You have a meeting with the finance department,” he continued, glaring heatedly. Your gaze flickered between the two men. Something was off. You’ll have to observe more next time, so for now, you tucked this information away for later.

“You’ll be hearing from him more than you will from me,” Mingi said, already shifting, already moving on like nothing had happened. Your attention snapped back to him. “He handles my schedule. Hongjoong will e-mail them to you. You can return next Monday”

Your stomach twisted. “M-Monday?”

“Yes, my dear. Monday,” he chuckled, amused, already halfway to the door. “I’m giving you a week to prepare yourself because once you start, there will be no turning back. I’ll have Yunho arrange for someone to escort you home,” he added over his shoulder.

The words settled into the room like a verdict. And before you could even process it, he was gone.

Working at KQ proved to be rewarding and challenging at the same time. Everyone either loved or feared Mingi, but for the most part, it was both. And working for him has proven to be conflicting for you. You haven’t seen him much, which you were honestly very thankful for, however, he did keep you at arms length.

Perhaps, he just wanted to keep a close eye on you because you exclusively worked inside his personal office, sitting all day on his cushy leather couch. Even Yunho found it fascinating.

Mingi was good at what he did. Painfully so, because the results were hard to deny. He didn’t waste time, didn’t tolerate incompetence, and had a way of cutting through problems so cleanly it left everyone else scrambling to keep up. You hated that you were impressed. Beneath the fear you had, he earned the power he held over everyone and you hated admitting it.

But at the same time, he made things a little smoother for you. Or at least, he sent someone to make things easier for you. Seonghwa was heaven sent, a ray of sunshine, if you will. He was the opposite of what this cutthroat industry stood for - very bubbly and energetic. He was the sweetest person, and that in itself made this place more bearable.

But you knew better. This wasn’t just a random act of kindness from your boss. This was Song Mingi, and Mingi was cunning. This was him exerting control even in unconventional senses such as adjusting his variables to make sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you to.

“Y/N, sweetie, are you alright? You still haven’t told me what you wanted,” Seonghwa’s soft and comforting voice spoke, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You almost turned to look at him, mildly startled, but you stopped yourself at the last second. “Sorry,” you apologised sheepishly. “I was just thinking. What were you saying?”

“I brought coffee and tea, I didn’t know which one you wanted so I figured I’d buy both so you could pick one to sip on while we work,” he said, already setting things down without waiting for a response, his voice bright and alive in a way that warmed you up. He was a nice man, and you felt bad for deceiving him, but no one can know you weren’t blind.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off before managing a small smile. “I prefer tea. Thank you, you didn’t have to–”

“Of course I did,” he cut in cheerfully, waving you off like it was obvious, already sitting down next to you. “Let’s start now so you can leave early. I get worried every time you go home with the sun gone. Same as usual, yeah? Just forgive my crappy Mandarin.”

This was the arrangement. Seonghwa would read, you would translate, and he would write it down. Luckily, you didn’t get much written documents, and computers were easy to worm your way out of since you managed to convince Hongjoong that voice-to-text worked well for you, and Mingi seemed to have no problem with it so long as the work got done.

It was the in-person business transactions that you were nervous about. So far, Mingi hasn’t taken you out to speak for major clientele, but he wasn’t lying when he said he worked for the big sharks. Three weeks shy in and you were already exhausted drafting and translating contracts and paperwork for him. Until today.

You were halfway through the document when the door to the office opened. Your back automatically straightened, eyes dulling themselves even further, when Mingi strolled in. You didn’t even have to look at him; you could just feel the immense power he exuded from his presence, alone, and how one glance could silence the room.

He didn’t greet either of you nor looked in your direction, just striding straight towards his desk to review some paperwork that was waiting for him to sign. You loosen up a bit. When Mingi was in the zone, he barely paid attention to his surroundings. Or is that what he wanted you to think? You didn’t care so long as he didn't acknowledge you at all. And you liked it that way.

The only thing that could be heard was the rustling of paper as Mingi flipped some documents, Seonghwa reading, and your whispers of translation. Times like these also allowed you to pay attention to his mannerisms. He didn’t have a lot, but it was the little things that truly scared you.

Like right now with his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed into slits as he furiously scribbled. It brought you dread when you realised down the line that he showed more expression to mere documents more than he ever did pulling that trigger on that man on the trail.

He had taken the liberty to take his coat off, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms that you were unable to look away from. Another thing that frustrated you to no end was that the more you observed Mingi, the harder it was to deny that he was very attractive. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve been your type.

“How long until you’re done?” Mingi suddenly asked, voice hushed in the quietness of the office, still not bothering to look up.

“In about twenty minutes or so,” you blurted out, slightly startled, but more so annoyed at yourself for checking him out.

“Make it five. You’re coming with me.”

You could practically feel your hackles rise because, of course, nothing about this job was ever going to be simple. “Pardon?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Did I stutter?” Mingi retorted flatly, barely audible. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when he turned lazily to you. “I vaguely recall telling you that I don’t particularly enjoy repeating instructions,” he drawled slowly. “Those aren’t empty words, Y/N. You told me you understood.”

You had to physically stop your face from visibly souring and glaring heatedly at him, stiffly just nodding in response while mumbling a half-hearted apology. True to his words, he stood up exactly five minutes after, giving you one glance as if to say, ‘Follow me’, before leaving. All without even waiting for you. 

So there you were, marching through the office like a spectacle, eyes wide open but empty, as if you’ve truly mastered the art of pretending to unsee. Mingi created quite a distance between you two and you’ve barely managed to catch up with him before he went in the elevator. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” You inquired faintly in the tight area of the elevator as its doors closed.

Through your peripherals, you caught Mingi’s lips quirk into a small smirk. “You are,” he replied, pressing a floor button. “Am I required to answer them?”

Your lips curve down into a frown, brain buffering for a split second. Mingi seemed to sense your distress and let out a deep chuckle. “I’m taking you on a little trip around the company,” he said. “I reckon it’s good for you to map out a layout in your head so you could develop some sort of muscle memory to make up for your lack of sight.”

That made sense. And you hated that it did. If you were actually blind, you would’ve been all over the moon. You swallowed nervously, dread crawling up your spine bit by bit the more the elevator rose. You did not like any of this one bit. The silence was stifling. It was hard to breathe especially with him so close. Mingi was a snake; he was constricting and looking away would be a fatal mistake. You didn’t even want to blink because you know he’ll be there, slithering around the brush, waiting to coil himself around you. 

You were startled back into sensibility when you heard a ‘ding’. You have arrived, and you didn’t know where. Before you could even ask, Mingi walked out and you had no choice but to move after him. At least you were behind him; it allowed you to look around freely.

But the moment you lifted your head to take in your surroundings, your heart dropped to your feet. This floor looked desolated, abandoned at best, like construction had started but never fully finished. Lights worked, but it was dim, and the walls weren’t even painted, leaving exposed wiring behind unfinished panels.

“Right this way,” Mingi said smoothly like nothing about this was unusual. “We’re heading near the HR department, for starters.”

Your face turned green with the intense need to vomit. A damn lie, it was, because in no shape or form were you near said department. You had half the mind to turn around and run back to the elevator, and the further you walked, the more you wanted to. But then, he stopped right in front of a suspicious looking door.

“This,” he said, already turning the handle to open it. “Is one of our private conference rooms. We could start here, but not to worry, everything is…everything is on the same floor.”

Panic spiked through you, but you had no choice but to swallow it down and walk through, and you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was certainly not an empty room. No furniture, no dividers, no equipment, no nothing. Just a large, open space with bare floors and large windows that emphasized how empty it was. There were no signs of use and no signs of life; just too much space. It was  somehow the most claustrophobic room you’ve ever been in. To make matters worse, you heard Mingi shut the door behind you.

“Let’s begin,” Mingi murmured, but it was loud as it reverberated around emptiness. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’ll tell you where to go, you just have to listen. Fair?”

You nodded stiffly, not knowing what he was planning to do, but judging by the toothy, wolfish grin spread wide on his lips that screamed of danger, it wasn’t anything good. “Perfect,” he said. “Just give me a couple of steps forward.”

And you did, mechanically dragging your foot to make that first step, opting to stop when it felt right. “Good,” you heard him say. There was a pregnant pause in the air before he continued again. “Actually, let’s try that again. A few steps back, please.”

Your lips twitched in perplexity, not knowing where he was going with this. Somehow, retracing your steps made your feet feel heavier than moving forward. You were back where you started by the door with Mingi to your far left still leaning against that wall, still staring intently at you as if he was waiting for you next move. Kind of like how he watched you that day in the forest to see what you’d do after he shot that man.

“Turn to your right. Walk approximately ten steps forward,” he finally said. You followed. “Now turn to the left. It leads to another room.”

You took a deep breath, walking into said ‘room’ anyway. “Forward a bit, then turn left,” he instructed, and again, you followed. “That’s another conference room.”

You swallowed the urge to scream at him that there was no room; that there was absolutely nothing. You could only hum, hoping to sound enthusiastic as you felt him getting closer. “You best remember that, love,” he commented. Dread crept up your insides. He sounded a little too happy, letting that polite mask slip away for a moment to enjoy whatever this humiliation ritual was. “Anyway, there’s a door in front of you, doll.”

Gritting your teeth to reel in your annoyance, you lifted a shaky hand to play along, letting out a convincing hum of confusion and surprise when you felt nothing but air. “Ah,” he said lightly. “Maybe this is too advanced. Next time, I suppose.”

God, you just wanted to go back to translating with Seonghwa, but instead, you’ve become a clown walking forward and backwards into an empty room, kind of like a child with a vivid imagination playing maze. “Turn around,” you heard him say. “Walk until I say stop.”

He wasn’t there when you turned around. That would mean he was behind you. Your knees almost buckled because you didn’t even hear him walk at all. You did as told, each step stretching just a little too long in the silence. But as you moved, your worry increased. This was the longest you’ve walked so far and he hasn’t told you to stop yet.

You waited for him to say something, anything, because you were a couple of steps away from colliding into the wall. The next couple of steps had you sweating, breathing heavily as you tried to walk normally, pretending that you weren’t about to get a nasty bump on your forehead from purposefully smacking face forward a concrete wall - all to make him still believe you’re blind.

Several steps from impact and you could already feel your legs hesitating to move forward, your pace stuttering, but you pushed, adjusting your steps accordingly to make everything still seem believable. You waited up until the very last few steps, but when you heard nothing from Mingi, you instinctively closed your eyes as the wall got closer, bracing for impact.

“Stop.”

The word snapped through the air just as your nose hovered a breath away from the surface. You halted instantly, biting your tongue to stop the startled squeak that threatened to leave your lips, not feeling any pain at all from the adrenaline and the fear pumping into your bloodstream.

“Careful,” Mingi murmured, his voice just behind your shoulder now, lips barely touching your ear. “There’s a wall here. You’ll want to remember that.” 

A soft, nervous laugh left you, controlled but imperfect. “I-I will,” you stammered. 

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin when he chuckled, low and amused, directly in your ears. “Yeah?” He whispered. Shivers broke out of you at his tone, especially when you felt him smile against the shell of your ear. You nodded. “You sure?”

You felt him blow the faintest air onto your skin. “Hmm. I like it when people listen,” Mingi whispered again, voice going even heavier in a way that had your stomach churning. He paused, like he was giving you grace to take it all in. “Especially when they know they should.”

You fought the instinct to break through this newfound tension. You were very aware of how little close you were - how easy it would be to move, and how impossible it felt to actually do it. “I said I would,” you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. 

“I know, but saying it and proving it…” Mingi let the sentence trail off, the implication settling in the charged silence between you. Your breath hitched when you saw his hands settle on the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in. “...I wonder how far that goes,” he finished. “Anyway, let’s continue.”

You sighed in relief when he pulled away, though you weren’t sure if that was better. He was back at it with his instruction, and this time, he’s double the intensity. “Try again,” he instructed, clearly amused at your mistakes. “I said move slightly, not do a full swerve. Again.”

And again. Again. And again. Again and again and again. Mingi made you turn, then walk. Stop. Back. Forward. Shift. Over and over and over again. Your steps grew heavier, your legs starting to ache, your breathing less steady no matter how hard you tried to hide it. And through it all, he watched you. Still, you had to continue with gritted teeth.

Your patience thinned as he watched you walk yourself into humiliation like it was the most entertaining thing in the world. But you moved because stopping wasn’t an option, especially not when Mingi resembled a predator observing a prey exhaust itself, just lying in wait before he struck to take advantage of your vulnerability.

Every time you turned, you caught glimpses of him. His expression remained composed, but his eyes were alert and focused, waiting to see if your blind act was about to fail as he followed every single movement you made. And he was enjoying this, you could tell. The faint curl at the corner of his mouth when you adjusted yourself mid-motion was more than enough to tell you.

“That’ll be all, Y/N. You can stop now,” Mingi said, his voice returning to that composed, professional tone as if you weren’t breathing hard in exhaustion. As if he didn’t just make you go for a loop in an empty room to strip you of your dignity.

You couldn’t even reply, couldn’t even push him away when he put his hand to your shoulder to lead you back into the elevator. Your pulse still hasn’t settled, skin still tingling where his hand was, but you weren’t going to complain now you were about to go back to normalcy.

“You did well,” he said softly as the elevator doors opened back to the floor where his office was. He stepped out, walking away as if nothing had happened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watched as he walked away, frozen where he placed you in the elevator. Whatever happened back there felt like a fever dream, and you still haven’t woken up. On the outside, nothing felt out of place but on the inside, something shifted because before, you were just afraid of seeing him kill someone.

But now? You were afraid of him.

Mingi didn’t stop there. There were little instances here and there, not much to alarm you, but enough to put you on edge. It’s been a little over a month by then. The dread never left, not even the hefty paycheque you received was enough to ease that paranoia beneath your skin. You still didn’t see him often and so far, he technically hasn’t bothered you or done anything. 

But when he did do something, it was when you were the most ill-prepared; like a demon waiting for you to fall asleep before infiltrating your dreams and terrorising you when you least expected it, and by the time you realised he was there, you would have already been too paralysed to stop him.

It started small, as if he was testing how far he could go before you noticed, like giving you the wrong files to translate. Or that one time he turned on his obnoxiously bright desk lamp and pointed it on your face while you worked.

“Something bothering you, love?” Mingi asked, almost innocently, as if he wasn’t currently adjusting the lamp to beam it directly in your eyes, his tongue sticking out of lips a little in concentration. “You seem a little distracted.”

You felt your eyes tick, not because you’ve been forcing them wide open and pretending that lights weren’t bothering you, but because you were annoyed at the audacity of this man and his ability to get away with anything - all because he thinks you couldn’t see him. Black spots began to dance behind your eyes, the telltale signs of a debilitating migraine beginning to creep up your temples as the ache came in throbbing waves.

“Everything’s fine,” you let out weakly.

Mingi hummed softly at that, his fingers deftly clicking the lamp to amp it up to its maximum brightness. You had to dig your nails painfully in your palms to stop yourself from blinking as your vision burned, but still, you could see the smugness in his features, all while his eyes watched you. “Carry on,” was all he said after.

And then nothing after that for days, but that was the problem, because he would do them so randomly and sporadically that when you thought you were in the clear, you really weren’t. If Mingi was feeling especially heinous, he’d sometimes move your computer files and hide them in different folders, which would be already difficult for abled people, let alone for someone who is especially visually challenged. You’d just grit your teeth and move forward, all while his sharp, menacing shadow towered over you.

“Just call me whenever you need something, alright?” Jongho kindly handed you back the laptop after finding the right files for you and one day Mingi moved them. He let out a confused hum. “Perhaps we could ask Mr. Song to fix your laptop. It’s been acting up more than usual.”

You let out a nervous laugh. Jongho raised a brow, but decided not to say anything. The two of you had gotten closer over the following weeks and he’s honestly been your saving grace in times like these. He was a sweetheart, always offering to buy you lunch or drive you home whenever he could. It was times like these where you genuinely felt bad for lying to him.

But Jongho can’t possibly help you with everything. One thing Mingi was consistent about, however, was his work ethics. Mingi let out a sharp sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while his other hand drummed against the table.

“You think this is good enough, Y/N?” He asked, tone flat and unimpressed. He was strict, very much so, to the point that there were times where you were afraid to submit your proposals to him. “No. Actually, let me rephrase that.” 

He shuts the laptop off, eyes lifting to you, his back straightening against his chair. “Did you even read this before sending them to me? Or did you honestly think I just sign off every paperwork that gets sent my way without checking them for marginal errors?”

Your throat tightened. Mingi wasn’t loud when he was upset. Even when he tested your sanity with his stupid games, Mingi never compromised when it came to work. “My apologies, I’ll revise it as soon as possible,” you assured.

“I know you tried your best,” he crossed his arms. “But that’s exactly what makes it disappointing. I’ll let this slide. Go home. Yunho will finish this mess.”

Surprise crosses your features and you opened your mouth to argue, but decided against it. Not when his eyes left no room for debate. It wasn’t personal, but the brutal honesty in which he laid his expectations landed on your chest hard, and the worst part? He was usually right.

Soon, Mingi began taking you to meet important people like he said he would before he hired you. If Mingi was intimidating in the confines of his office, then he was downright terrifying around the people he did business with to the point that you had no idea how he was able to stay up top as long as he did. Hongjoong laughed when you spoke your thoughts out loud.

“It’s not just him,” he said, gently leading you inside one of the private rooms in the upscale restaurant. “You have to constantly one up everyone because they will not hesitate to bury you in this business, Y/N. Mingi just so happens to be the best at what he does.”

And you understood why. You saw how even those older than him with far more power and experience measured their words around him before saying them. Mingi just had this uncanny ability to dismantle people. Today, you sat next to Hongjoong while Mingi sat to your right, listening intently to you as you translated in real time, voice smooth and professional.

“This is preposterous,” the overseas investor from China scoffed at you, his confidence slipping the longer Mingi remained expressionless. “Tell Mr. Song here that I have a proposition.”

Indeed, he did, by giving a lower number - a number so low that even you knew that no sane businessman would take it seriously. You were visibly taken aback, pausing for a beat too long that Hongjoong had to nudge your foot with his subtly under the table. You swallowed nervously, already knowing that Mingi was going to hate this.

And he did. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing for a split second before he neutralised his expression. He doesn’t speak yet, just pouring liquor into his shot glass. “Salud,” he cheered, lifting the glass up towards the investor who just spoke. “This one’s especially for you, fucker.”

Your head whips towards him, that smile on his face that you knew screamed danger flashing brightly as he downed his drink, followed by the merry cheers of the foreign nationals who were none wiser that they were getting cursed right in front of their faces. 

It was the first time you’ve ever heard Mingi curse, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. He was always so proper and composed and that anything outside of that realm bothered you more than it should’ve because you didn’t know which one was the character he was choosing to play in front of you versus the entire world. As if things couldn’t get worse, a thin trail of liquor slipped from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his sharp jaw down to his throat.

Warmth bloomed dangerously low in your stomach, but thankfully - or, perhaps, not - that heat vanished from your body when he spoke his next words. “Tell him,” Mingi said calmly. “That I can see why people stopped explaining things around him, that I envy people who would never hear how much of an imbecile he and his ideas are. If he wants to rob KQ that badly, at least haggle like a man. I’ve seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investor blinked at you expectantly, unaware, and beside you, Hongjoong went unnaturally still, but all you could do was freeze. You wanted to reword it, to soften the blow, but you must have hesitated for far too long because Mingi turned to you, his eyes cold and expectant.

“Well?” Mingi demanded, impatience creeping into his tone. “Word for word, Y/N. I want to hear it.”

Your throat was tight, but you forced yourself to translate, trying your best to not let your voice shake. “H-He says,” you cleared your throat, discomfort crawling up your spine. “That he can see why people stopped explaining things around you. A-And that he envies people who would never hear how much of an imbecile you and your ideas are…”

The investors’ polite expression drops immediately. God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. The embarrassment was too much, every word tasted horribly against your tongue. “If you want to rob KQ so badly,” you spoke, or rather, squeaked. “Haggle like a man because he’s seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investors’ darkened faces stared at you in disbelief for a second before all hell broke loose. Slurs and curses were thrown all over the place, but all you could focus on were Mingi’s eyes on you and the small, satisfied smile on his face. And then it hits you. Provoking these investors wasn’t his only target.

Making you sit there and deliver those words for him amused him far more. You watched as his eyes landed on your ears, the tips of them red from the sheer secondhand embarrassment, and a faint smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Well, that went terrific,” Hongjoong sarcastically let out as the three of you walked out of the restaurant, side-eyeing Mingi with intent while he helped you walk out, hands still as gentle as when he guided you in earlier.

You chose not to say anything, opting to stare blankly forward to keep up the act, periodically squeezing Hongjoong’s arm when you’d hit a bump or two. Mingi just smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes, walking as if he didn’t just botch an entire business transaction by letting his intrusive thoughts win.

“I don’t know, I’d say that went pretty well,” he shrugged, his indifference evident as he opened his car door, pausing to stare at the both of you. “Meet me back at the office. I reckon Seonghwa will have a field day after this. You tell him.”

You barely stopped yourself from raising a brow. Hongjoong stiffens under your touch, an unimpressed frown crossing his face, eyes narrowing with obvious annoyance. “Wait, why me? Do I really have to?”

“Yes. You’re my assistant, after all,” Mingi replied without missing a beat. He let out a condescending smile when Hongjoong’s eyes twitched. “Relax. He has a soft spot for you.”

Hongjoong was about to retort when Mingi gave him a look - a look that had Hongjoong pausing, glancing carefully at you as if he just remembered that they weren’t alone - before the shorter man rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning to lead you away. “Anyway, I’ll drive Y/N—”

“No,” Mingi interjected. “I’ll do it. Put her in.”

Without waiting for a reply, he gets in his car. And that was how you found yourself in the passenger’s seat of your boss’ car, stiff as a board, staring at the distance not to pretend to unsee, but simply because you couldn’t bear to acknowledge how close Mingi was. “A-Are we not leaving yet?” You couldn’t help but blurt out, not being able to take the awkward silence hanging between the two of you.

“I’m waiting for you,” he murmured.

You frowned, confused. “M-Me? For what?”

“Mhhm,” he hummed. Your stomach churned at how it echoed in your ear. It was a low rumble, warm and smooth like lullabies of despair seducing you in, but you willed it away. “Your seatbelt, sweet pea. I can’t drive without you wearing it.”

Oh, this was dangerous. The way he said it was quiet enough to feel intimate, yet teasing enough to make your pulse skip. Unhurried, you shakily reached for the seatbelt, careful to maintain that blind, dead look in your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to grasp it. Mingi chuckled and the next thing you knew, he was leaning in, reaching for your seatbelt, himself.

A whimper of surprise leaves your lips before you could stop it. His face hovers inches over yours as he clicks the belt into place. He was close, too close, and you thought he was going to lean back, but no. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even seem fazed; he just stares. And you didn’t dare breathe against this intentional proximity that he put the both of you in.

You didn’t even realise that his hand was on your thigh until he gave it a small squeeze, and once again, your stomach churns, but this time, it was with an intensity that made you want to throw up. And all you could do was stare in between his eyebrows, pretending that you were seeing through him instead of at him.

“Funny how we keep finding ourselves in this situation,” he mused in a quiet whisper, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Almost as if we were meant to be here.”

Your brows twitch, not knowing what he was referring to. And then it hits you. Hard. This was the exact position and the exact closeness you had with Mingi that day in the forest. Face to face, his dark eyes dissecting you with that horrifying scrutiny before he wiped that blood that accidentally found its way onto your face. “I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“You should relax around me more,” he murmured, tucking a piece of hair obscuring your face behind your ears with so much gentleness that you wanted to scream. “You’re always so tense.”

And then, without warning, he finally leaned back into his seat. The loss of pressure was so sudden that it made your chest ache even further. He started the car, casually driving as if he didn’t just psychologically terrorise you.

But that was fine, you could handle these because they didn’t necessarily hurt you. All you had to do was ignore Mingi and go on still pretending you couldn’t see everything that he was doing. And you knew he was a psycho, but clearly, he’d been holding himself back.

Mingi drove silently, posture relaxed like nothing was wrong. Eventually, he slowed down, eventually stopping when at a red light. It was the busy intersection that was a couple of blocks away from KQ and you couldn’t wait to get the hell away from this man. But when the lights changed to green, Mingi didn’t move. “We’re here,” he said.

Your stomach dropped, taken aback by what he just said. “Here? A-At the office?”

“Mhhm. Where else?”

It was that same low, intimate hum. Your ears rang amidst the busy traffic all around, the honks of the cars behind you, and the buzzing of cars from multiple directions. “Go ahead. Your friend, Jongho, is waiting for you by the door,” he said.

His words slithered coldly up your spine. No, you thought dreadfully. He wouldn’t. But you knew better. You were in the middle of an intersection. You could see that the lights were red again, but the moment those lights turned back to green, there was a high chance that you would get hit. The thought alone made your vision double, and beside you, Mingi patiently waited, staring at you to see what you were going to do.

Panic clawed up your throat. You grabbed your walking cane and started pushing the door open, because refusing without any valid reason would completely blow your cover away. And then, divine intervention - Mingi’s phone started to ring. The sound of it made the both of you pause. From your peripheral vision, you could briefly see the name of the caller. It was Hongjoong. Mingi’s eyes were still on you, specifically on your hand that held the door handle.

He let out an exhale, as if disappointed that you couldn’t step out into moving traffic.“Close the door, love,” he murmured. “I’ll park at the other entrance. It’s dangerous here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You slammed that door shut so hard that the entire car rattled with force. Mingi’s lips twitched with a small smile, staring at you for one more second before he finally picked up the call. He wasn’t relieved that you were safe nor was he shaken that you could’ve been hit by a car right in front of his eyes. 

No, Mingi was steady and unbothered. Interested, even, like his stakes had just gone up and he just realised that the possibilities were endless for him so long as you played for him.

Mingi didn’t even wait a week to test that theory out. It was, by far, the worst he’s done not because of what he did, but because of how bold and brazen his acts were becoming. You were working with Seonghwa in your usual spot in his office, but this time, Jongho was also here. He was today’s representative from his department for the monthly report. Then, in comes Yunho, bringing with him cups and a thermos before leaving. It was fresh tea; you could see the steam in your peripheral vision as Jongho poured the boiling hot water into the cups.

You didn’t think much when Mingi walked over to where you and Seonghwa were, placing two cups at the table. This wasn’t out of the norm, Mingi had always treated you well when there were people around for show, but clearly, you’ve been giving this man more credit than he deserved.

“I ordered everyone iced tea from the café across the building,” he whispered silently, only enough for you to hear. “It’s in front of you. Drink it before the ice melts and dilutes it.”

Panic seized your chest so bad that your lungs were burning from how carefully you were trying to control every breath you took. Your body reacted instantly by freezing into place. You wanted to gawk at the audacity of this man because now he was deliberately playing with you right in the presence of other people.

You forced your eyes to dull further as you nodded stiffly while being at a loss for what to do. You knew this man was cunning, but this was insane. If you grabbed the cup properly, that would give away that you could see. If you grab it clumsily, you’d burn your hand with boiling hot tea. If you give any sort of excuses to not drink it, you were done. 

You could feel his eyes on you, sharpening at every second you hesitated to grab the cup. Swallowing, your hands began to jut forward, thinking of a way to touch it without reacting somehow or at least minimise the pain you were about to feel when you burned yourself.

“Ah ah, sweetie,” Seonghwa’s gentle voice cut, intercepting you by guiding your hand away from the cup. “That’s, uh, bland. I’ll be back, I’ll get us some lemons to go with the…iced tea.” 

Mingi merely raised a brow, watching as Seonghwa got up and left the room. He shrugged, not sparing you a glance before he walked back to Jongho, who was still none the wiser as he sipped on his own tea, engrossed in the paperwork Mingi gave him. 

Seonghwa reappeared a minute later, quietly removing the cup of hot tea before replacing it with something actually cold. You had no idea where he got it, but you didn’t dare question it as your trembling fingers wrapped around the cold drink. Through your peripheral vision, you caught the way Seonghwa stared at Mingi.

And you were surprised at how angry he was. The look he gave Mingi was so scathing, more scalding hot than the tea you almost burned yourself with, that it sent more shivers up your spine. You had no idea that someone as gentle as Seonghwa was even capable of such look. Mingi smirked back sardonically, tilting his head mockingly before his eyes set to you.

His eyes stared you down as he sipped his own tea with no particular expression on his face. But his eyes, they looked alive; alive because every second of watching you endure him fed something inexplicably insatiable inside him.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

Your lips twitched as you forced a smile on your lips, your arms tightening around the laptop you held close to your chest. “I-I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Jung. I’ve been told as such before…”

Mingi didn’t react, not even bothering to look away from his laptop. Though from your peripheral vision, you saw him gaze at you for a few short seconds before letting out a small smile. It was the exact same thing he told you when he interviewed you a few months ago.

Today’s work was a bit different. You were used to leaving to meet up with potential clients and even going as far as traveling outside the country - something you would’ve enjoyed had you had more freedom to move since Mingi used his private jet and he was extremely generous with you and your expenses abroad. But today, KQ would be the meet-up point.

Yesterday, Mingi’s longtime friend, Jung Wooyoung, who also happened to be an investor, owed another company a favour and wanted some connections with KQ. You were surprised since Mingi hated short notices, but judging by the lecherous smirk on his face after that phone call, you’d say he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to look forward to it.

You tried not to squirm at the way Wooyoung stared at you through those sharp eyes of his. It wasn’t salacious, by all means, but it was extremely intrusive, like he was trying to read you from the inside out. It was unsettling, and you didn’t know how to avoid it, especially not when his hand started to play with your hair.

“I’m just teasing,” he chuckled. He gives Mingi a meaningful look before turning his attention back at you. “I’m just wondering what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this, is all.”

The snap of a laptop being deliberately shut off is what got Wooyoung to momentarily stop playing with your hair.. Across the room, Mingi had already stood up, walking towards the corner of the office where he had a mini bar set up.

"There are birds that survive storms, Jung,” he murmured, pausing to pour brandy in his glass, swirling it slowly before taking a leisurely sip. “But they rarely survive entering another bird's nest."

You frowned, not really understanding the meaning or intent of what he just said. He sounded so nonchalant - uninterested, even - but the way his eyes bore into Wooyoung through his lashes had the latter blinking before stepping away, hands up in the air with mock surrender as a disbelieving laugh left his lips.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wooyoung chuckled. “If I didn’t know you I’d have assumed that you preferred your birds to be made out of fine china, Song.”

Mingi just hummed. Wooyoung scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “So, uh,” he pointed at the brandy Mingi was sipping on. “Are you gonna pour me one?”

“No,” Mingi deadpanned, putting the empty glass down before walking back to his desk. “As I recall, your hands were working perfectly fine earlier. Now, these,” he paused, pointing at the box Wooyoung had brought with him when he arrived. “What are these?”

“That? Oh,” Wooyoung shrugged as he helped himself to a drink. “Premium cherries straight from Japan. Heard that Mr. Yamada was very fond of them, which he better fucking like them because these cost me a pretty penny.” 

“I see,” Mingi murmured. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “Little doll?”

You were a bit startled at his sudden attention to you. “Y-Yes?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated, not fully sure what Mingi wanted. Ever since that tea incident, you’ve become more wary of him - more terrified since clearly, an audience was never going to stop him. However, that hesitance must’ve come off as helplessness because you saw Wooyoung’s eyes lit into recognition, immediately leaping to action to guide you by the arm towards Mingi.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to taste test them?” Wooyoung asked casually, raising a brow as Mingi opened the box, revealing the most perfect cherries you have ever seen in your life. You had to make an effort not to drool at the sight. Pretending you couldn’t see them was sad.

Even Mingi was impressed as he let out a soft hum. “Mr. Yamada doesn’t deserve a whole box.”

Wooyoung barked out a laugh as he returned back to the mini bar, leaning against it. “Yeah, I told him you despised tardiness. Even I’m getting pissed that he’s still not here.”

“Anyway,” he continued after taking a quiet sip of brandy. “Will Yunho assist you during the meeting? I didn’t see him in the lobby earlier.”

“Yunho isn’t needed. What I need is my translator,” he answered, eyes lifting up to you slowly. “And she’s right in front of me.”

The way he said it made your stomach tighten. Wooyoung paused, the surprise visible across his entire face. “Your what?” He asked, opening his mouth to say something again. “But—”

“Cherries are supposed to be off-season in Japan right now,” Mingi interrupted smoothly, taking one from the box carefully. “I’m surprised you even got your slimy hands on one box.”

Thick silence enveloped the entire room for a moment longer than what you deemed comfortable. Sometimes, you underestimated how tiring it was to feign sight - to stare at one space and pretend that the world wasn’t moving around you while you tried not to openly make eye contact with anyone because that’ll give you away instantly.

Then, Mingi’s gaze settles onto you. “Have you ever tried one of these?”

You frowned at the random question. “Cherries? Yes. The premium kind? Never.”

Mingi doesn’t respond, only humming in affirmation. Then, slowly, he lifted the cherry to his mouth. You ceased breathing then and there, barely stopping your knees from buckling under the weight of his stare. Heat crept up from your neck all the way to your ears as you watched his thick lips slowly envelope the red cherry with his saliva.

His eyes never left you as his tongue deliberately dragged against it, flicking the fruit left and right before he pulled the stem off with his teeth. It was unhurried and intentional, extremely obscene in the way he licked it with every second that passed between the two of you. Wooyoung could only watch, mouth parted, eyes comically wide in disbelief, but Mingi paid him no mind.

Instead, he leaned forward, plucking the cherry out from his lips to hold it towards your lips. “Open your mouth, love,” he murmured. “Try it.”

The initial disgust almost overpowered you, but refusing wasn’t an option. Reluctantly, you parted your lips to accept the cherry into your mouth. Across the room, Wooyoung let out the strangest little sound.

“Wait—” he squeaked, reaching his hand out instinctively, but it was too late. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, biting into his fists, visibly cringing at the inappropriateness.

All you felt was the instantaneous heat that spread through your body. Sweetness automatically burst into your mouth, but underneath that was an undertone that didn’t belong in cherries - mint. The taste hit you so hard that your stomach flipped. It was the same scent you always caught on Mingi’s breath whenever he got too close, which happened more often than not.

Mingi didn’t react - at least, not in the usual way he did. The smirk that was always plastered on his face whenever he did something heinous was missing and the amusement that always danced in his eyes was absent. Instead, his eyes were dark, gaze heavy with intent as something unreadable settled over his features.

It was almost possessive in a way that made your skin crawl, and somehow, that terrified you more than anything he’s ever done. “Good girl,” he whispered quietly, so quietly that you weren’t sure if you were even meant to hear it even though you knew it was for you.

The meeting did not go well. It wasn’t because Mingi had somehow screwed it up on purpose or the client lowballing him enough to make him angry - on the contrary, the meeting went terrific. No, the meeting went horribly for you, specifically, because Mingi kicked you out. Hongjoong was also present but he could tell something was amiss when he came in. Unfortunately, he was smart enough to go to Wooyoung, who had no problem whispering to him what just went down with you and Mingi. Hongjoong’s disgusted, but not surprised, expression was enough to make you want to disappear. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mr. Yamada was a raging pervert the entire time. He leered at you the entire time like he was undressing you and the discomfort made it difficult to stay still.

“You’re a beautiful thing, aren’t you?” He grinned, licking his lips in a way that made your stomach churn. “Does Mingi have a thing for hiring pretty translators?”

“T-Thank you,” you forced a smile. “Uhm, about the investments—”

“It’s too bad you’re blind, but I don’t mind. Why don’t you work with me, instead? I can already tell that Mingi doesn’t spoil you properly.” 

Your stomach churned further when he leaned back on his seat, eyes dragging all over you in ways that felt violating. But everybody’s eyes were on you, waiting for you to translate everything despite the way your body stiffened at every malicious stare this man gave you.

“You need better clothes, not these shabby ones,” he stated shamelessly, eyes dipping lower. “And those legs,” he paused to exhale through his nose. “Mingi’s an idiot. If you were with me, I’d dress you up nice to show off this delicate figure of yours…”

It was when his hand started to move to touch you did you actually panic. Suddenly, papers scattered all over the floor near you, making everybody pause. “Oh, geez,” Hongjoong muttered flatly, not even apologetic. “Terribly clumsy today, aren’t we, Jung?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung raised one brow as he stared at the Japanese pervert. “Yes, we are, Kim.”

Hongjoong crouched down to gather the papers, but not before shooting Mr. Yamada a look so cold that it had the older man withdrawing his hands. It was then that you released a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding in.

“Y/N.”

Your spine straightened instantly. That was Mingi. Your stomach dropped because you just realised that all throughout this, he had completely remained silent. “Y-Yes?”

“You’re dismissed.”

You paled. “M-Mingi,” you blurted out in surprise. As much as possible, you tried not to say his name in professional settings even though he allowed you to.  “I didn’t do anything, I swear—”

Mingi gave you a look that made your mouth shut immediately. “I won’t say it twice.”

And that’s how you found yourself walking out of the building with your thoughts spiraling in every direction. At least it was nighttime, you told yourself, sighing as you waited for the elevator. Pretty much all the employees have left and that meant that you didn’t have to stumble around pretending you couldn’t find your way out. For once, you could simply walk normally.

But as you were about to push the door open to leave, you cursed. You left some documents behind, ones you wanted to take home to work on since the deadline was in two days. Suppressing a groan, you begrudgingly turned around to go back to Mingi’s office, already dreading how embarrassing it was going to be.

That embarrassment soon transformed into utter shock when you heard a loud bang when you got to the office floor. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widened at how that sound exploded across the empty hallway. No, that can’t be, you thought. But there was no denying it - you knew that sound intimately.

You ran towards the sound before your brain could catch up, stunned at how you ended up right in front of Mingi’s office. The door was slightly ajar, just enough where you could peek in without being seen. You barely stopped the gasp from your lips as you covered your mouth in horror. There, on the couch, lay Mr. Yamada with his head hung at an unnatural angle. Standing over his body was Mingi, gun hung loosely in his hand, face speckled with blood. Your stomach lurched violently, because once again, you were looking at a murderer. Lucky for you this time, he didn’t know you were here. But you, you could see him. You could see how blank his expression was, like he didn’t just casually take another life like it was nothing.

“You out of your fucking mind or something?” Hongjoong asked with one brow raised, his voice breaking the silence that seemed to temporarily make everybody’s world stop for a second.

Mingi merely scoffed and Wooyoung barked out a laugh so hearty, it was almost contagious. “Jesus Christ, Mingi,” he snorted, walking away from the window towards the dead body, nudging the foot with his own. “Can’t believe this is how this old bastard went. Good riddance.”

You felt your knees weaken. No one looked shocked or even sick at the sight of a man getting shot and actively bleeding out against the couch. “Really, Mingi? This was supposed to be a null zone,” Hongjoong sighed, more inconvenienced than disturbed. “You couldn’t wait a few more days? Or, at the very least, get out of here?”

“For what? I’ve been meaning to off the bastard anyway,” Mingi paused to nudge Mr. Yamada’s shoulder with the gun muzzle. “He’s been on the shit list for a while, couldn’t really let the opportunity slip away.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with him eye fucking your translator now, would it?”

Your hand trembled violently against your mouth at the mere mention of you. Mingi plops down the couch, producing a cigarette and lighter out of nowhere. “Nuances,” he mumbled, exhaling smoke rings from his mouth up in the air. “I hate perverts, anyway. They’re very bad for society.”

The absurdity of that made you want to choke. Across the room, Wooyoung lets out another laugh. “Ah, yes. Because fuckers like you are the backbone of society,” he snorted, shamelessly opening the box of cherries to pop one in his mouth. “Anyway, why are you keeping her?”

Mingi doesn’t answer right away, inhaling another slow drag before exhaling. “I already told you why,” he replied, flicking the ash into a crystal tray. “The trail. I need to keep a close eye on her.”

Your heart stopped, coldness washing over your body. He knew. He’s always known. To be fair, if you recognised him immediately months ago, Mingi wasn’t a fool to not recognise you either, but hearing it made it ten times worse than it already was. Hongjoong immediately frowns. “Fuck’s sake, Mingi. She’s blind.”

That made Mingi pause. He turns his head, eyes darkened into something you’ve never seen before, one that made bile rise up your throat. “Is that supposed to mean anything?” 

“Song Mingi,” Hongjoong hissed. “There are rules to this—”

“Kim Hongjoong. Don’t test me, I may be in a good mood, but I’m warning you,” Mingi stated. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His voice never rose, but something about it made your skin prickle. “Rules are suggestions until I deem them otherwise.” Heavy and uncomfortable silence followed. It was a subtle threat, one that made you understand why Mingi was to be feared in the first place. Mingi leaned back against the couch, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong, unblinking and calculated. The corners of his mouth twitched when Hongjoong sighed before looking away in exasperation.

Wooyoung tossed another cherry stem onto the table. “Christ,” he muttered. “She’s of no use to you, just let her go, you sadist.”

“Mhhm,” Mingi hummed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Sorry,” he said. “Can’t do it.”

“Can’t?” Wooyoung echoed, eyes narrowed knowingly. “Or won’t? Does Yeosang even know?”

Mingi didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. Instead, he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe all the blood off of him. “Clean this up,” he ordered, standing up to adjust his sleeves. “I don’t give a fuck what Yeosang thinks. I’ll bust his head open if he has a problem with it. Anyway, I need a favour.”

“Don’t bother. He already knows and he’s not happy,” Hongjoong scoffed, gesturing towards Mr. Yamada. “What’s more important than dragging this piece of shit out here without being seen?”

“Of course he does, he’s Kang fucking Yeosang,” he snarled, tossing the bloodied cloth onto the corpse’s chest without a care in the world. “Go to the mall. You’re going shopping.”

You didn’t stay further, running to the exit as quietly and as fast as you can. By the time you reached the exit, your stomach gave out entirely, barely making it to the sidewalk before dropping to your knees and proceeding to vomit out everything you ate. Tears blurred your vision, your entire body shook, but the bile still burned your throat.

When you were done, you pulled out your phone, your trembling fingers barely able to dial the person you needed the most. “S-Sannie?” You squeaked when he picked up on the first ring, not being able to hold your tears any longer. “Can you pick me up from work?”

You didn’t know how you were going to return to work today pretending that everything was fine. You’ve thought about it over the weekend, drunk out of your mind with San convincing you to just quit at that point. He wasn’t wrong; you were working in a den full of monsters. But you knew there was no point - if Mingi found you once, he would find you again just as easily.

You were expecting to see Seonghwa or Mingi, himself, but to your surprise, there was no one, which was odd because you knew Mingi always arrived before anyone else. A part of you was relieved because you had no idea how you'd face Mingi but another part of you wanted to throw up because the office was pristine, no traces of anything heinous occurring at all.

A thought crosses your mind - would you be crazy if you tried to find some proof of Mingi's illicit affairs? You contemplated it. You couldn't pretend to be blind forever, it was getting harder because your emotions were getting difficult to contain, but you needed leverage in case he tried to do something to you - in case he decided that you weren’t worth keeping anymore.

With nothing to lose, you started rummaging through his drawers, careful not to mess anything up. The first few ones rendered nothing, until you got to the very bottom. There was only one folder in there. You frowned, picking it up and inspecting it. It was plain black with no company logo on it or any department, but it did have a label on it.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, and beneath it were the letters, K.O.S. Your brows furrowed, what the hell does that even mean? Opening it made less sense. Inside were names and dates, some of them crossed out, but before you could try to understand what this all meant, you heard voices right outside by the door.

“Hongjoong has sordid taste,” Seonghwa’s familiar voice stated. Your blood runs cold, nearly dropping the folder. “Christ, do I have to do everything around here? Promote me or something.”

As if things weren’t bad enough, you heard Mingi let out a short unimpressed sound. “Says you. Anyway, are you going home?” He asked, changing the subject.

You scrambled to put everything back into place, barely reaching the couch to sit on it as if you weren’t just snooping. “No,” Seonghwa scoffed as he pushed the doors open. “I have the gala to arrange—oh, Y/N, good morning,” he greeted warmly with a smile that always eased you.

But Mingi did not. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, assessing you more than usual, or was that your paranoia talking? Maybe not, especially when his eyes settled on his desk, then back at you. Your pulse climbed to your throat when Mingi shook his head, almost affectionately, a small smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth.

You thought he was going to say something about it, but instead, he turned to Seonghwa, relieving him of the several shopping bags hanging from his arm. “Wait, not this,” Seonghwa said, taking the smallest one before approaching you.

“Here,” he smiled, placing the bag on the couch beside you. “I stopped by that bakery we talked about one time and got reminded of you. I hope you like them, they’re just an assortment of pastries.”

Your eyes lit in surprise, touched that he even remembered such mundane information. “Seonghwa,” you said, heart squeezing in regret that you couldn’t express your thanks properly since you still had to pretend you were blind. “Thank you, really.”

Unfortunately, he had to leave after. Seonghwa had always been very kind to you, always sincere with his words and never tried to dupe you because you were ‘blind.’ The problem was, now you were alone with Mingi in the room. Nothing ever good came with being alone with Mingi.

For a moment, he simply observed you, but he, too, probably felt the weight of the silence. “You won’t be doing your usual work today,” he said.

You blinked, not expecting that at all. “What am I doing, then?”

Instead of replying, Mingi walks towards you and sets the bags down. You stiffened, the closer he got, the harder it became to control your expressions, and when his fingers gently closed around yours, your heart took a massive leap. He guided your hand forward, letting your fingertips brush against the bags. By the time he stopped, you counted no less than fifteen.

You gulped. No wonder Seonghwa looked so ready to drop them the moment he saw fit. “W-What am I touching?” You asked carefully, pretending you couldn’t see some of them - different arrays of clothes, all feminine, and all just about your perfect sizing.

“Clothes, lots of them,” he said, dropping your hand. “They’re all yours, precious.”

You stared blankly ahead. For a second, you genuinely thought he’d lost his mind. He sighed, nudging one of the bags with his foot. “There’s the annual gala tonight,” he began. “There will be a lot of future investors, clients, all that jazz. Then, the next day we have a short conference and an after party, so we’ll be staying in the hotel like last time. I already booked your room.”

“Okay?” You drawled, not quite getting what he was trying to insinuate.

His brows arched. “Okay?” He repeated, the mocking repetition making you want to slam one of the bags to his handsome face. “You’re coming with me. I kind of need you to translate.”

“No, I got that part,” you said, trying not to roll your eyes. “What I’m trying to understand is the excessive amount of clothes for one night.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t mad, rather, he looked more offended than anything which was puzzling to you. “Excessive, you say? I think I can determine that, myself.”

“I...understand,” you said slowly. “It’s still too much. There’s no less than fifteen bags, Mingi.”

“And?” He raised an annoyed brow like you were insulting him by just pointing that out.

You blinked, opening your mouth before closing it, and then trying again. “It’s one night.”

“And?”

That shut you up. That one was sharper, his tone getting more pointed and snappier. You could see his patience visibly thinning by how his eyes have darkened. “Mingi,” you sighed. “Nobody needs this much for one night.”

A humourless chuckle escaped him. Shaking his head, he leans by the nearby desk, crossing his arms. “You seem to be under the impression that everything in there is just for tonight,” he pointed out. “There’s a variety of stuff in there. Dresses, work clothes, shoes, et cetera.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the quiet between you two stretching thin. These weren’t just bags anymore, they were a deliberate purchase catered especially for you. That was the part that bothered you more than the quantity - that Mingi bought all of these just for you. It felt like chaotic indulgence, and underneath the uncertainty, was something inside your chest that started forming, something your traitorous heart was getting harder to ignore.

“I can’t accept these, then,” you said firmly, deciding to stand your ground. 

That was not an answer he was expecting. You could tell you said the wrong words when something flashed across his face, gone so quickly you almost missed it. “Can’t?” He asked calmly, a little too calm than you liked. “What do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, thinking of what to say without aggravating him. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, precious,” Mingi cocked his head with a smile. It was thin, dangerously thin. “Please elaborate, Y/N. I must insist.”

You shifted uncomfortably, not willing to tell him the truth. You didn’t want to owe him, didn’t want anything tying you closer to him than you already were. You wanted distance and an escape route; a future where Song Mingi wasn’t going to be involved, and that included reminders of him even if it was the littlest of things.

Your silence was ticking him off. Mingi’s jaw flexed, it was barely noticeable, but enough to tell that you were beginning to irritate him. “I rest my case, then. I don’t see an issue with—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “This is ridiculous, Mingi—”

“Love.”

Now that actually shuts you up. The way he said it made it sound less like a nickname and more like a warning by the slight edge in his voice. But you weren’t going to budge even if the fear was slowly washing your resolve away. “I said what I said, Mingi. I can’t take them.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. His expression remained unreadable, but his stare had something darker flickering behind his eyes now. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. You knew this feeling - the one where you’d accidentally stepped on a landmine and were waiting for it to explode.  

And maybe it did, because Mingi went from standing in front of you to his face inches away from yours. The couch dipped when he propped his knee, his entire upper body leaning over you, one hand bracing itself against the back of the couch beside your head, and you? You froze, trapped underneath him with nowhere to go.

You prayed he couldn’t hear how hard your stupid heart was thumping. He was close, far too close. His cologne immediately envelops you, and you hated it. Hated the fact that despite knowing exactly what kind of person Mingi was, your body automatically reacted to his presence. “U-Uhm,” you stammered like an idiot. “I don’t think—”

“You’re right, you don’t think,” he whispered, tone casual. “Because you seemed perfectly capable of accepting Seonghwa’s pastries earlier. You didn’t even have to think about it.”

That statement hit you so unexpectedly hard that you had to blink owlishly, mouth opening agape in disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t so casual about it, after all. For some reason, that statement carried a bit of a bite to it, a bitterness that felt entirely out of place for someone of Mingi’s personality as far as you’re concerned.

“B-But,” you stuttered, not really knowing what to say, before you cleared your throat. “That’s different,” you reasoned, gesturing to the bags. “That’s…different.”

“Is it?” Mingi asked, somehow looking more irritated even if his face was expressionless. Then, his other hand moved to your waist, his fingers deliberately settling themselves onto your skin through your clothes. “Tell me, then. I want to hear it.”

You gulped, body tensing in a way that you were positive he felt judging by the faint smile on his face. You hated the way your stomach tightened, hated how every nerve ending in your body suddenly became alive, hated even more how natural this all was to him as though he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. It was getting difficult to breathe and you hated him for it. 

It felt like hours being underneath Mingi like this. The hand at your waist didn’t move, and if anything, it felt more and more present like a constant reminder of how easily he could invade your space if he really wanted to. “Look me in the eye,” he murmured, voice low and gruff.

You lifted your head, freezing at the last second. He almost got you there. You lifted your head, deliberately staring at something else like a blind person would. Mingi was still waiting, a small smirk on his face. “Wrong direction, doll. That’s my neck,” he chuckled in amusement. “Higher.”

A wave of humiliation ripples through you when you realised that you were, indeed, staring at his neck. But, you’d be damned if you looked him in the eye, so you settled on his lips. But that soon turned into panic when his hand started to travel up your waist. “No,” he murmured. “Higher.”

The moment he said that, his hand moved slightly higher as well. It makes your breath catch, your throat locking at how tense you felt. Your eyes flicker hesitantly, lifting up to his nose this time. “Higher, baby doll,” he repeated, voice going even deeper and rougher. “Higher.”

Something in him changed. It was subtle in the way his eyes cast a dark shadow over it, his breath getting shallower as his hand glided further up. A faint exhale escapes him, and you stop the squeak that almost left you when he bit his bottom lip lightly. Your eyes didn’t move, but his hand kept going higher and higher, right below your breasts.

Panic settled in and before you could think of your mistake and the consequences of it, you looked him straight in the eye like he asked, your eyes clearly holding fright as you stared at him. Mingi’s hand stops exactly on the curve of your tit, a couple of inches below your nipple. The both of you stared at each other for a long moment; a predator studying prey.

You weren’t in the mood to pretend, not right now. Mingi stared at the way your chest heaved up and down, the way your legs instinctively squeezed together. You shuddered at his touch, stifling any damning sounds, but it was when his hard started moving again that you snapped out of the daze.

“Mingi—”, you gasped, aggressively pushing his hand away. 

“What I give you is what you get,” he said, finally leaning away and putting distance between you. “And you’ll find yourself grateful for it.”

The statement hung in the air. It was neither a threat nor a promise, but somehow, that made it worse. At first, your mind reached for the most logical explanation, but maybe this was his way of controlling you in a way that made sense only to him. Your hands flexed at your sides without you noticing.

“You didn’t ask me,” you spoke.

“I didn’t think I had to,” he stated confidently, completely certain of himself. “Pick what to wear from the bags or I will. You don’t want that. The gala starts at seven.”

The gala was no less than glamorous. Everywhere you looked was filled with pretentiousness covered in glitz; polished smiles and conversations disguised as networking when in reality, it was just another ruse for some sort of power play. You hated every bit of it and you could not wait until you were back in your hotel room.

Unfortunately for you, this happened to be exactly the sort of environment where Mingi thrived in and you spent the majority of it being with him. The business itself wasn’t particularly exciting, still, you translated them all for him without complaining - all while resisting the urge to fall asleep in the middle of this bloody ballroom.

The irony wasn’t lost on you, though, because Mingi looked good tonight. Infuriatingly so. The black suit fit him perfectly, tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and long legs, blonde hair pushed back to expose his sharp features that gleamed under the chandelier lights.

The worst part was that he looked like he belonged here. People flocked to him naturally. Sure, his status might have helped, but such was the charisma of one Song Mingi, really.

But despite the growing crowd vying for even a sliver of his attention, Mingi always found a way to pull you back. “Stay here,” he murmured, almost a warning, when you tried to wander off. 

Because God knows you wanted to. You needed to get away from him. The memory of what happened in the office earlier refused to leave your mind, and now, every time he stepped too close, the way his hand brushed your lower back to guide you through the crowd, and every time he leaned in to whisper something, your body immediately remembered.

But none of these surprised you - what actually bothered you was what Mingi wasn’t doing.

Turns out that there are some things that Mingi couldn’t even stand no matter how hard he pretends. Or, perhaps, you were the only one who noticed. Being around the blind makes people reveal themselves especially when they think nobody was there to watch. But you’ve always been here, mainly because Mingi had a thing for keeping you in check.

He hated being here, that much you could tell. Despised it, even. To others, Mingi looked the same, but you knew better. The way his eyes narrowed every time someone tried to talk to him was one thing, but his smirk was hollow and carried no weight, and his responses were beginning to get shorter and shorter as the night went on. 

His patience was wearing thin and that realisation was so fascinating to you. You’ve seen Mingi annoyed, amused, exploit, kill, but one thing you’ve never seen him be was be uncomfortable. The thought immediately makes you snort under your breath, and of course, Mingi notices.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you for a few seconds before he let out a long sigh, fingers slightly loosening his tie. “Do you need anything?”

The question surprised you, but the way he asked it almost created a big riff inside your chest. He wasn’t asking out of inconvenience, he looked like he actually wanted to ask you if you needed something. The thing was, the concern sounded so unnatural for him that you had a hard time conceiving an answer for him.

But you didn’t have to. Mingi was still waiting for an answer when, suddenly, his eyes darkened. The change in his body posture was subtle, but it was there. His back straightened, shoulders squared, and his chin lifted. You were stunned, you’ve never seen him like this before - not for investors, not for clients, and not for people who held twice the amount of power he did.

Someone was approaching and when that newcomer came in your line of view, you immediately understood why. This man looked like he should’ve been in a magazine cover, beautiful in a way that was not even fair. But that wasn’t what made you freeze - it was his eyes. They were cold, but not cold in a way that Mingi’s were. They weren’t sharp or predatory, they were just…cold.

This man was danger wrapped in silk to hide the rot underneath. The way he stood was restrained, his presence already squeezing your chest with unyielding tension. You understood why Mingi immediately tensed the moment he saw him.

“Yeosang,” Mingi greeted with a subtle nod. “Always glad to see you alive despite your efforts.”

You brows furrowed, the name tickling your brain to remember where it had heard it before. Yeosang returns the gesture. “Charmed,” he flatly stated. “My father isn’t happy, Mingi.”

You wanted to choke where you stood. That was it - no smile, no pleasantries, no nothing. Just straight into business. Mingi lightly scoffs, swirling his whiskey once before answering. “I would say that’s unfortunate, but it sounds to me that that’s his problem, and not my own.”

Yeosang stared at him for quite some time before cocking his head slightly. “You tainted the null zone,” he stated, expression unchanged. “Don’t mistake silence for approval. Though I must say, you’ve gotten…creative. I see you’ve also started including variables in your equation.”

The people around you blurred, and you were left stuck between two men who were clearly fighting for the upper hand even though you had no idea what they were talking about. “I aim to please,” Mingi shrugged, though you could see how tense he was. “It’s called adapting.”

Yeosang’s mouth curls into a small sneer. “Adaptable people know where the line is.”

But Mingi wasn’t having it. His eyes narrow into small slits, returning the glare with equal ferocity. “They also know when the line has moved.”

There was a pause, both men refusing to give out as they both stared at each other, communicating between their eyes. The measured silence was louder than all of the mindless chatter and ear-splitting music echoing in the ballroom and the discomfort was slowly creeping into your insides.

“What now?” Yeosang finally said, the taunting clear in his tone.

Mingi took another sip from his glass before setting it onto a passing waiter’s tray without even looking. “What else?” He jabbed in contempt. “I’ll deal with it. Like I always fucking do.”

Something flickered in Yeosang’s eyes, gone within the next second. Of course, Mingi notices. “Don’t even start,” Mingi said lowly, voice hardening. “Everything’s been done accordingly and neatly all within the given timeframe. You and I both know I’ve gone the extra mile way out of my area of responsibility every time. I have never failed. I never will. Not now, not ever.”

Yeosang scoffed. Your stomach begins to churn. Neither of them raised their voices or their fists, but this conversation felt more dangerous than any lingering violence you’ve witnessed. That statement earns the smallest reaction from Mingi. He lifts a brow, an action you knew too well - an action you knew was going to cost the nearest person he set his sights on.

“Is it not? My record says otherwise, Yeosang,” he said, voice sharpening on its edges. “I’ve been cleaning messes since the beginning. Run the reports and my every movement, I don’t care. Nothing’s off, nothing’s missing. So,” Mingi takes one step closer, enough to show that he wasn’t backing down. “Unless your dad has gone senile, then there’s nothing he can reprimand me on. He can talk to me, himself.”

For the first time, Yeosang’s expression shifts. It was subtle, but you could tell it was between disappointment and a warning. His gaze swept imperceptibly through the crowd before settling back on Mingi. There was pause before he finally sighed, his shoulders loosening visibly, eyes taking on something more human in them. “Don’t get too cocky,” he whispered.

A small smirk crosses Mingi’s face as he lets out a small huff. “You and I both know I’m not just someone. And about the…variable,” he said, eyes briefly landing on you before locking eyes with Yeosang once more. “It’s accounted for. But that’s not why you’re here. You didn’t approach me to criticise my methods.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he sets his sights on you, quiet but clinical. “You’re Y/N,” he stated.

You blinked, not expecting to be acknowledged by this beautifully dreadful man. As you were about to open your mouth to respond, for the first time since Yeosang approached, Mingi looked genuinely irritated. His hands suddenly grips your arm. It was neither tight nor gentle, but it was enough where you knew he was making his presence and intentions known.

“She is,” he answered quickly before you even could. Mingi doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but the pressure of his fingers slightly increases, but more than that, you could feel a slight tremble to them. You would even dare go as far as say that his hold felt desperate.

Yeosang’s eyes drop to Mingi’s hand, a slow, knowing smirk ghosting across his lips. But then, his eyes bore straight onto yours and your heart leapt out of your chest, too startled to look away. You immediately dimmed your eyes, hoping he didn’t notice how alert they were, but he kept staring, even slightly tilting his head as his penetrating eyes inspected yours.

“Huh,” he huffed in amusement, his mouth twitching at its corners. He sounded genuinely interested. “I’m impressed. Such tenacity. No wonder you’ve survived for this long.”

Mingi’s jaw shifts, his hold on you tightening once more before relaxing. Yeosang notices, his smile growing wider. “Don’t,” he warned. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Yeosang merely nods, but he all managed but two steps before stopping. You held your breath in anticipation, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to look back, eyes the softest you’ve seen. It wasn’t much, but it was enough where you thought you imagined the other version of him.

He reaches out, hand resting on Mingi’s shoulder, and by how Mingi didn’t flinch, you could tell it was a welcome and familiar gesture; almost comforting and brotherly, even.

Yeosang’s eyes settle on you briefly before he looks away. “I won’t tell if you won’t, Min,” he said quietly. Mingi managed the subtlest nod. Then, Yeosang was already gone. Approaching said table was the only thing left to do at that point.

And it wasn’t a pleasant experience. These people weren’t even predators; they were vultures and bottom feeders, just hovering over the weakest link before they did what they did best. It was revolting, and unfortunately for you, Mingi’s temper wasn’t helping.

He spent the entire time digging his fingers in to make these people bled, hooking in to let the pain fester more. Safe to say that being in the middle of this political fiasco was not for you in the slightest.

“As an outsider, what are your views on intelligence?” Mingi asked lightheartedly, though anybody with common sense can tell that his eyes said otherwise. It was awkward to translate that to the few people who didn’t speak the language, but you had to do it.

“I like how you never let facts get in the way of your opinions,” he whispered under his breath while another investor was explaining his plans for his company. The secondhand embarrassment of seeing the other man’s smile slowly fade and fumble to collect what was left of his social dignity was something you never wanted to witness ever again.

It wasn’t long before they started targeting you. It was to be expected - you were the weakest out of everybody in this table, the cripple, so to speak. If they couldn’t get to Mingi, they were surely going to take their frustrations out on the easy prey to salvage what was left of their egos. At first, they were polite about it, then they became just loud enough for you to hear.

“That’s the translator? My, so the rumours were true, after all.”

“But she’s blind. KQ couldn’t find anyone else that can at least look you in the eye?”

“I wouldn’t trust someone who can’t even see the people she’s negotiating with.”

Your fingers curled around your untouched champagne flute to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Imbeciles, you thought. You weren’t really blind, but of course, they can’t know that. You were playing the long game here and their words were nothing compared to the unknown of what would happen if Mingi found out. You didn’t even want to know. For now, you stayed silent.

But Mingi had different ideas. You and all the other patrons on the table flinched when his low chuckle pierced through the hushed conversations. “You know,” he started, gaze settling on the people who had questioned your abilities. “The funny thing about natural intellect is that it often doesn’t require sight.”

The implication was clear. No one spoke and a few nearby guests from the other table coughed awkwardly into their drinks. You were stunned into silence, your chest tightening as you watched Mingi take a sip from his glass, his posture as relaxed as ever. You wanted to believe that he meant something else - that he was doing this for his own interest - but you’d be lying to yourself.

One of the men who insulted you forced an awkward smile that looked like it was meant to be smug. “Ah, we were just curious,” he smirked. “KQ prides itself on excellence. I simply meant that eyesight is important in business.”

“So is a brain,” Mingi raised a brow, voice calm.

The dig was so pointed and deliberate that the people around were stuck in between snickering or stuttering in surprise, but the man’s face just reddened in embarrassment, perhaps in anger. “Come again?” He huffed in annoyance.

Mingi smirked behind his glass, scoffing softly. “All I’m saying,” he spoke calmly. “Is that I’ve met people who could see perfectly fine yet choose to be sightless. I’ve also met some who lost their sight along the way. I’m not sure who’s worse.”

His eyes lingered on every single face on the table long enough to make every single of them visibly uncomfortable. His words sent a shiver down your spine, so you turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at anybody else anymore. He was looking at you - no - he was looking through you. “Your entire existence has been led by your blindness.”

He continued, voice lowered enough not to be unheard, but enough to paralyse you because this felt personal. “And since you can’t see,” he paused as your pulse stumbled. “And the more nothing happens, the more dreadful it feels.”

A strange silence envelops the entire table. Some people gave an awkward laugh, but you barely noticed them, your focus entirely on the man beside you. This felt different. Every conversation you’ve had with Mingi felt like you were being hunted, but now? It didn’t even feel like he was mocking you for your blindness - it felt like he understood it.

Not the lie, but the fear of it and the suffocating uncertainty of not knowing whether or not he would finally do something drastic the next time you saw him. Your heart beat painfully against your ribs, and you couldn’t understand why because you should have been afraid.

So why did it feel like that the only person who seemed to perfectly understand the prison you’ve entrapped yourself in was the very same man who had built it?

You already knew that Mingi was detested being there - loathed the people around him, really - and that was fine, but even psychopaths like Song Mingi had their limits. You just weren’t expecting Mingi to act upon that unease in the most unconventional of ways. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore, yet somehow, you still were.

The water in the tub had long since gone cold but you had barely noticed. The bathroom was too quiet, especially in contrast with all of tonight’s events - the glittering chandeliers, forced smiles, conversations with hidden meanings, Song Mingi - all of it. The lavender scented bath salts that should have been calming, but they didn’t even work. Instead, you still felt sick.

You closed your eyes, but that was a mistake. Immediately, fragments of the evening flashed in your head. You sank deeper in the water to will yourself to think about anything else, but your mind refused. The last thing you remembered was running to your room after seeing Mingi and Wooyoung together in the emergency stairwell, but how did you even get there?

“Go to your room and rest, doll,” Mingi had spoken the moment he took you out of that suffocating ballroom. “You need it. We still need to attend the after party tomorrow.”

You absentmindedly played with the bubbles floating about, swirling mindless, abstract patterns with your fingertips. You remembered glancing at Mingi, reading to say your good nights, but he wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, he was staring at the ballroom doors, eyes fixed on it as if he was waiting for something to happen. You shivered at the memory.

“W-What about you?” You asked. “Are you not resting yet?”

He shook his head, gaze already down the hallway opposite the ballroom. “No. I’m going to smoke for a bit,” he flatly spoke, almost distracted. He grabs something from his coat pocket. “This is the list of people I need you to memorise for tomorrow,” he said, handing you a flash drive. “Go on. Jongho’s in the lobby to help you to your room. I’ll swing by later to get it back.”

You turned your head to the side where the flash drive lay on the pristine marble sink, still untouched, not knowing what exactly to do with it - not when you knew Mingi lied to you. You knew for a fact he didn’t smoke. So when he turned his back to walk away, you hung out but not because you were waiting for Jongho; no, you were going to see what Mingi was up to.

You should’ve just listened, because the next thing you knew, you were hidden by the staircase door, your eyes wide, mouth agape in fear and disbelief, watching Mingi’s smirk turn into a smug grin while Wooyoung grabbed him by the collar, eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, veins popping from his neck all the way to his temples in sheer anger. 

“Mingi, you piece of shit,” he seethed, voice scathing as he slammed Mingi against the concrete wall. “It was you, wasn’t it? I know it was you. The fucking gala is in shambles because of you.”

At that time you didn’t know it was related. When you were tailing Mingi, there was a sudden commotion that erupted in the ballroom when you passed it, panicked voices and frantic demands for an emergency hotline. The realisation made you pale, because now you knew why he looked at that door like he was waiting - because he actually was.

“Careful with the suit, Youngie. I happen to like this one a lot,” he murmured, not even bothered in the slightest. “Mighty bold of you to assume I had something to do with it.”

The playful, teasing investor who ate cherries was nowhere to be found. His usually warm face had darkened with rage, fists tightening even further against Mingi’s expensive suit. “Cut the bullshit,” he spat. “I was literally at the other table listening in while you were mouthing off to that dead trash.What the fuck were you thinking?”

The victim flashed across your mind almost instantly and your blood ran cold, realisation settling into your bones with horrifying clarity. Mingi had killed again and the one who died was none other than the executive who he spent the entire time digging into. And as if things weren’t bad enough, you saw a shadow approaching from the other side of the hallway. 

It was Jongho. He was about to open his mouth, but you hurriedly put your finger to your mouth, your teary eyes begging him to be silent and not speak while pointing at the staircase. His eyes widened, but luckily, he did exactly what you wanted and opted to stand beside you to listen in as well, though you think it was more because he was stunned into silence seeing you so panicked.

The both of you watched Wooyoung groan into his hands in sheer frustration before glaring at Mingi, looking like he was ready to throw him down the stairs. “God, Song Mingi, you just gave me a migraine and half,” he hissed, two seconds away from punching him. “Was he on the list?”

Mingi’s lips stretched at the corners. It wasn’t enough to be called a smile, but enough to show his canines. You remembered thinking how symbolic it was. “Oh. No, he wasn’t,” he replied.

Wooyoung stared, blinking twice like he had heard wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Mingi shrugged, casually straightening his tie. “I had no plans tonight, I genuinely wanted to leave this hellhole fast, so I wasn’t even going to do anything to the guy. He just pissed me off.”

Wooyoung stared more before exploding. “What?” His voice boomed through the entire staircase, loud and roaring, making you and Jongho both flinch at the intensity. “Mingi, that was blatant, you petty motherfucker—”

“I don’t get petty,” he interrupted with insulting calm. “I get even, Wooyoung.”

The amusement he had the entire time completely vanished. It was so unsettling. When Mingi looked back at Wooyoung, there was that terrifying cold that you only saw when he was in his murderous state.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” he said, holding Wooyoung’s gaze without flinching. “I’d have caved your skull in with my shoe for cornering me like this.”

Jongho’s breath hitched. Mingi wasn’t joking and even Wooyoung seemed to recognise that. For the first time since confronting him, hesitation crossed his face, but Mingi wasn’t done.

“This place,” he gestures randomly with his hands. “Runs on order, chaos, and my patience. If there’s a problem, it isn’t what I did. It’s what everyone thinks they saw. And I suggest,” he pauses, head tilting, menacingly so. “You make sure they’re looking at the right thing.”

Wooyoung paused, face settling into a dangerous realisation. You watched him take a step back, face reddening bit by bit as a newfound rage seemed to overcome him. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You play god to stay on top of that mountain of shit you’re sitting on and you expect people to just forget and hope their attention diverts towards something else?”

Mingi smiled a bit, genuinely amused by the situation. “You misunderstand me,” he said, taking a step slow enough to feel deliberate. “You think I killed my way here? Because anybody can kill. You certainly have. You think the man who kills the most gets to stay on top, Jung Wooyoung?”

The question was almost conversational and it had you and Jongho both holding your breaths. Wooyoung said nothing as Mingi’s eyes stayed locked onto his. “Listen to them,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom. “Half the room thinks he had a heart attack, and the other half thinks otherwise. But it doesn’t matter, because by tomorrow, every single one of those stories will be more useful to me than the truth. It’s always the little ants that help me stay up.”

His face had emptied with nothing but those dead eyes that stared through people rather than at them, but it was the way his voice remained calm - that was the terrifying part. There was no ounce of guilt in them. Mingi continued, voice dropping lower. “You see, before I built my network, I don’t announce my intentions to the anthill. Before I pull the trigger, I don’t explain myself.”

“You want to know why?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung's body tensed when Mingi stepped closer, jaw tightening when the taller man’s fingers brushed against his tie to fix it. “Because they’re ants, Youngie,” he declared, gaze sharpening dangerously, fingers twisting the tie, causing Wooyoung to choke out before letting go. “And ants are far below my understanding.”

The way he said it was soft, but the words landed like a blade. Mingi sighed, eyes drifting briefly towards the ceiling. “But the world is round,” he mumbled thoughtfully with an almost child-like innocence. “I could be the ant to someone else next time. But not tonight,” his eyes hardened when they returned to Wooyoung. “Because right here, right now, they are the ants.”

You finally understood something that terrified you more than the murders themselves - Mingi thought he was above these people and genuinely cannot imagine anyone changing the story he had already decided for them. You had to get Jongho out of here before Mingi realises he had another witness.

“Jongho, please,” you begged, grabbing onto his jacket. “Take me to my room.”

Jongho didn’t hesitate or ask any questions. His hands were trembling the entire time, you could feel it, and you could only imagine what was going through his head; to know that the boss he had admired for so long was a cold and calculated murderer.

The walk back felt impossibly long, but the moment you entered your hotel room, Jongho took a deep breath to prepare himself for the barrage of questions that he had for you. “Y/N, what the hell was that? I need to know—”

“I’m not blind,” you blurted out before you could help it. “I-I lied. I can see perfectly.”

And somehow between this revelation and the conversation between Mingi and Wooyoung, this one seemed to surprise him the most. You told him everything - how you had lied from the very beginning because you had accidentally witnessed Mingi doing the same thing months prior. And, knowing how smart he was, Jongho asked why didn’t you just leave or, perhaps, not accept the job offer, so you also told him about the company card and how Mingi found you through it.

Jongho nodded as he took the information in, but you could see how his face had paled as he tried to keep his composure. “He would’ve found you regardless of where you were,” he mumbled, more to himself, in realisation. “Y/N, this is fucked. All of this is. Does anyone else know?”

You nodded, telling him San, your best friend, knew. By the time you were finished, your voice had gone hoarse, hands trembling uncontrollably. Your chest, however, did feel a little lighter. Letting all of this out felt good for once even if saying it out loud solidified the danger wrapped behind it.

But as you stared at the way Jongho just stood there, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him; your chest felt lighter simply because you now had someone to share the heaviness with.

In the end, Jongho thought it was best to keep acting normal until the dust settles. “If anything goes wrong,” he said sharply through veiled concern as he was about to leave your room. “And I mean anything, you come to me. I have a spare room in my apartment you both could crash in.”

You could have cried. Jongho took it better than you ever did and finally - God, finally - you felt like you weren’t alone. The cold embrace of the lavender scented water you were submerged in didn’t feel so biting anymore. You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the bathroom door opening, though.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but not once in your wildest dreams were you expecting to see Mingi standing by the door of the bathroom. In your peripheral vision, you can see his breath hitch, frozen from where he was standing, just as startled as you were.

You racked your brain for reasons why Mingi would be in your room to begin with, but you saw him staring at the flash drive on your sink and it hit you. You forgot that he was supposed to take it.

He looked shocked. It wasn’t the subtle surprise you’d coax out of him once in a while or that morbid curiosity he always had. No, this was pure, unadulterated shock; one you’ve never seen on his face before. This wasn’t one of his calculated performances - he genuinely did not expect to see you like this, and for the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t the only one, you were so caught-off guard that you couldn’t even move and this was when reality set in. You were in a bathtub and you were wearing nothing. You could hear the slow drip of the water from the faucet, the faint hum of the air conditioner just outside this suffocating, the ringing in your ears - everything. And God, that thought was so unsettling.

You became painfully aware of your vulnerability; of your bare shoulders and legs exposed to the cool air, of the thin sheet of bubbles that covered what little of your privacy, and every instinct told you to cover yourself and to scream at Mingi to get out. But you couldn’t. Blind people didn’t react to people silently appearing in their peripheral vision. Blind people never had the need to sink lower in cloudy bathwaters to protect their dignity from someone they didn’t know was there.

So, you remained still, keeping your gaze unfocused, praying that your breathing and your wild heartbeat wouldn’t betray you. With shaking hands, you reached for the shampoo bottle, missing it a few times on purpose for the sake of normalcy. In the dim, yellow lights of the luxurious bathroom, you just hoped that your reddened cheeks and ears weren’t so visible.

Mingi still didn’t move, and even if he did, you were expecting him to walk away as quietly as he crept in, but this was Mingi you were talking about and he was anything but. You had to stifle the alarmed yelp that wanted to escape your throat when he slid inside the bathroom completely. If you were really blind, you would have been none the wiser; he was good at being unheard.

Your hands were trembling as you continued to shampoo your hair, all while he leaned his back against the wall. Your stomach dropped, was he going to stay here? You could feel your hackles rise in the silence. This was absolutely absurd, because at this point, it was just impossible to not feel each other’s presence. Mingi was right earlier - people do love to pretend to be sightless.

As if things weren’t disturbing enough, his eyes had gotten dark somehow, and through your peripherals as you dragged the washcloth over your exposed legs, you saw his breathing grow heavier, his chest rising up and down with so much difficulty that it was becoming hard for you to breathe as well. Whatever he was thinking, you did not want to know.

But it seems like you’d have no choice. You froze when you saw his hand going lower, inching towards the outline of his obviously hardened cock. You swallowed, reaching out for the faucet to turn the water just so the tension wouldn’t slice you in two, but that mistake would cost you. Mingi took this opportunity to use the noise of the running water to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants.

The sight of his exposed cock, hard and already dripping in precum, caught you off guard, causing you to accidentally lose your balance as you tried to sit back down. The mishap completely shifts the hazy bathwater around, the bubbles sloshing around at the ripples, completely exposing you in your entirety. Just like that, the atmosphere turned sinister.

Song Mingi was jerking off at the sight of you bathing. You wanted to throw up, utterly disturbed at the turn of events. You were trapped; acknowledging him would mean seeing him, and hiding yourself would also mean seeing him.

Act normal, you told yourself. But to be fair, even if you weren’t pretending to be blind, how does one react normally to this?

A shaky exhale came from Mingi, the sound of it loud to your ears over the running water. He wastes no time wrapping his hands around his cock, stroking it slowly, eyes roaming greedily at your plump tits glistening with soap as you tried to rinse yourself. Subconsciously, you bit your lip, and it doesn’t escape your attention how his hand tightened around himself.

You shivered, not being able to stop the small whimper that left your lips. Fuck, you thought helplessly, your own body betraying you as the tingles went from your spine all the way down to your nether regions. It was stomach-churning and tears threatened to fall from your eyes because you were getting utterly, disgustingly, turned on by all of this.

No, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. But there you were, gripping the edge of the bathtub so hard your fingers ached as Mingi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at the slow, deliberate strokes he was giving himself at the sight of your nakedness. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, you weren’t supposed to feel stuck between a cliff where jumping down would mean giving in.

You grabbed the washcloth again, dragging it across your belly before the cloth dipped lower, spreading your legs, but stopping midway. You didn’t even realise what you were doing, and God, you were about to be sick.

But, fuck, you needed something. You swallowed, you were just cleaning yourself. Every section needed to be scrubbed, right? Nothing out of the ordinary.

You bit your lip as you finally dragged the cloth lower as you washed between your legs, spreading your thighs a little wider under the water as your fingers brushed your clit, going back and forth to make sure you were thoroughly clean. You closed your eyes, focusing on the delicious onslaught you desperately needed down there rather than the bile rising up your throat.

Mingi’s breath hitched and his pace quickened. You could see his fist going faster, his movement more urgent. He was watching every move you made, the way your fingers clenched around nothing as you rubbed the cloth there again, pretending and telling yourself that it was just routine bathing. You really shouldn’t be doing this.

His breathing turned ragged, his hand moving in quick desperate strokes, low groans barely contained, but just when you thought he was about to come, Mingi stopped. He closed his eyes, taking in slow but big gulps of air as he tried to contain himself with great difficulty if the veins popping on his neck weren’t telling.

You were confused, and thought of being confused made the bile in your throat rise even higher. This was so messed up. But you kept your expression neutral, eyes unfocused as you continued to wash yourself. And just as sudden as he came barging in your bathroom, he hurriedly tucked himself back in his pants, grabbed the flash drive on your sink, and left quietly.

When you heard the front door clicking shut, your lungs finally remembered how to work. You hurriedly turned the faucet off, drained the tub, and quickly got dressed, all in the span of not even five minutes, to sit on the bed. Every muscle protested as you slowly relaxed and you didn’t even realise how rigid you were the entire time until you felt the softness of the bed.

Your shoulders slumped in relief. Mingi was gone, and of course, you were relieved. So why did the room suddenly feel so empty? Your throat tightened, replaying the scenes over and over again like cinema credits that went on forever. You hated every second that his eyes devoured you, didn’t you?

You shook your head at that wretched thought, waiting for the correct answer in the expanse of your dark, luxurious room, but it didn’t come. Instead, another realisation crawled into your mind like poison. You didn’t want him in the bathroom, you knew that, but your body…

You barely reached the toilet before you were retching over it in painful heaves, your lungs burning terribly as nothing came out. You felt sick, not because of the thought of Mingi, because of the way your body responded on its own in his presence. The thought disgusted you, made you want to peel your skin off and flush it down the toilet.

Tears fell down from your eyes before you could help it. You told yourself that you were always going to see through this and not let Mingi get to you.

Yet there you were, hands on your face, sobbing and wondering whether or not he already had.

Sleep never found you that night. Sanity had long left you. Sentience was something of the past for you. Sensation swallowed reasons whole. Someone said your name, but you barely stirred. Sex on the beach tasted pretty bland in this afterparty, swirling it didn’t make it better either. Smiles spread across the room, and sobriety stood no chance finding you tonight.

“Easy on the cocktails,” Jongho murmured beside you, or rather, shouted above the loud music in the background. “Mingi’s going to suspect something.”

“Let him,” you deadpanned, downing more cocktails than you could ever take.

Not tonight. You needed to get drunk to forget what happened last night. And speaking of that, the morning after was the most awkward moment of your entire existence yet. Mingi knocked on your door to remind you of the party, but he looked fine, pretty much the same asshole he usually was.

In essence, you were the only one messed up while he was pretending like nothing happened and the thought made you angrier than it usually would have.

Maybe trauma had finally broken something inside you, or perhaps, living under Mingi’s constant intimidation and fear rewired your instincts into something else. Whatever it was, you absolutely hated it. Whatever. You weren’t here to party like everyone did, and the moment you got back home, you had made up your mind to talk to San about Jongho’s offer for safety and shelter.

Tonight was easy, though. It’s like all these snobbish elitists who pretended that the gala actually contributed to society wanted to let loose like they had the right to when every hypocrite in there and their mothers knew that everything was just a farce. Mingi hadn’t called for you at all. Good, you thought. It wasn’t like you wanted to see him; not after last night.

In fact, he hadn’t even looked your way once. You were positive of that even in the paradigm of how these backwards parties worked, so why did your skin feel like it wants to separate itself from your body? The way it prickled made you want to dig your fingernails in and scratch that unbearable itch until you reached bones and nerves.

He was like a ghost that lingered but never really stayed; a spectre of your inevitable downfall. He was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. At least, not that your eyes could see. You could feel his eyes on you, but you knew for a fact that he was networking with investors as of the moment. You could feel him, not physically, but instinctually. You downed your drink in one go. Your senses have definitely left your mind. You felt delirious - paranoid. You rubbed your forearm, willing for that itch to go away, but it didn’t help. Whatever this was felt possessive—no, obsessive. It wasn’t until you felt fingers tap your shoulder that you snapped out of the chasm you jumped into. 

You blinked. It was a man, dressed to the nines and out to impress, already tipsy judging by the slight sway in his stance, an unpleasant grin plastered to his face like he deserved the attention he wanted from anyone.

“There she is,” he grinned, the horrible smell of alcohol and his pungent cologne invading your nose. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now.”

You forced a polite smile, your eyes dulling by itself not to pretend you were blind, but because you were genuinely not in the mood to act around pompous pricks when you already had so much in your head.

“My apologies,” you said, not even bothering to sound sorry at all.

His eyes traveled all over your form in ways you didn’t appreciate, his tongue poking out of lips, nodding in appreciation as if you were produce he wanted to purchase. Disgusting. “My, such pretty face for someone blind,” he clicked his tongue. “All wasted for Song Mingi.”

You immediately bristled at the insinuation. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the devil that was Mingi, himself, but you also had to deal with assholes like these who reduced you to what they thought you’re worth rather than what you’ve achieved. God, they made Mingi look like a saint because at least Mingi actually respected your job title and praised you for it all the time.

Jongho frowned. “With all due respect, Sir—”

The man cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I can make you see stars tonight, if you’d like,” he offered lasciviously, reaching out to you when he saw you stiffen. “You don’t need to be shy—”

An arm snakes around your waist, firm and certain, and you freeze before your body calms down. You didn’t even have to look, and the fact that you already knew who it was as you melted against him instinctively without thinking made you sick to your stomach. Mingi held you close, possessive without squeezing your waist, staking his claim without opening his mouth.

The other man’s smile falters and it was when Mingi spoke. “I see you’ve found yourself another friend, my little dove,” he said smoothly, dipping his head lower until you felt his breath against your ear. “Are you having fun?”

You shivered at the sensation, at his cordial and polite tone despite the way his eyes said otherwise as he fixated on the other man. He was completely devoid of warmth even though his skin left yours on fire. The other man took a cautious step back. You supposed that you weren’t the only one who could feel when Mingi was looking at them.

Mingi pulls you to the side, effectively seating you next to Jongho. “It seems our little friend here needs attention,” he mused, squeezing your waist possessively as if touching you was second nature to him.

He grabs your chin, turning you to him. “Be good for me, love,” he whispered. You gritted your teeth to stop that pleasurable zing up your spine. “Watch her,” he then told Jongho.

Jongho nodded dumbly, looking at you with wide eyes when Mingi turned back to the man, alarm clear on his expression that mirrored your own. The other man cleared his throat in an attempt to recover whatever dignity he lost, if he had one to begin with anyway.

“My apologies,” he began awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware that your employee was so…sensitive.”

What a piece of shit, you thought bitterly. He didn’t get what he wanted from you so he resorted to belittling you. “She seems to have misunderstood my intentions,” he continued, chuckling.

Mingi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he stated bluntly, not bothering to mince his words like he usually did. The man blinked, surprised at the turn of events, but Mingi’s gaze settled on him with that unnerving calm you knew too well. “Just because my translator cannot see you,” he paused, letting the words sink in. “Never meant she cannot hear you.”

You felt your gut tighten. While you appreciated his defense towards you, that didn’t really make your situation with Mingi better. He knew you were aware of everything he did, yet he chose to play games and test your sanity for months, so what did that say about him? The other man merely laughed, apparently - or choosing - to miss the point entirely.

“Well, perhaps I could make it up to her. Take her to dinner and maybe more, if you catch my drift,” he offered, that salacious grin still on his smug face. Jongho stiffens beside you, his usually kind eyes morphing into a glare so fierce that it could have rivaled Mingi’s.

Unfortunately, this man must’ve brought only half his brain because he didn’t stop there.

“Maybe I could shoot my shot with her,” he grinned, winking conspiratorily at Mingi as if this was an inside joke between them. “Plant my seed in her, you know what I mean?”

Mingi didn’t reply, yet the air around him changed so drastically, it was almost suffocating. His expression remained unreadable, but the quiet amusement in his eyes completely vanished. He nodded like he was agreeing. You swallowed. You learned enough about him to recognize that this was not a good sign. This was worse than him shouting. Much, much worse.

Then, in a whisper so soft that you were positive that you were the only one who heard it because nobody was meant to hear it, Mingi had barely let the words out of his mouth.

“What if I plant a bullet between your eyes, instead?”

Your blood froze, but the executive merely frowned. “Huh?”

“Hmm?” Mingi hummed in polite confusion, feigning innocence.

“Oh,” the man laughed nervously. “I thought you said something.”

A faint smile tugged at Mingi’s lips. “Must have been the wind,” he shrugged lazily.

But you couldn't take any of this anymore, so you excused yourself and said you were going to have fun on the other side of the venue with Jongho who immediately understands that you just wanted to get away. Mingi just raises a brow and cocks his head for you to go, but you hardly moved an inch before his hand wrapped around your wrist. He reeled you back without warning, your body colliding with his.

His other hand found the back of your neck, broad fingers spreading possessively beneath your hair. He held you there not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you that if he wanted to keep you exactly where you were, he could. His thumb stroked the nape of your neck in slow, deliberate passes.

“Stay where I can see you,” he said. There was no hint of any teasing in his voice, just firm and reminding. “I’d hate to have to come looking for you.”

Because I will.

Those were what his eyes were telling you as he let go, gesturing to the crowd to give you and Jongho permission to have fun. And you tried, you really did, but you couldn’t even move without your knees feeling strangely unsteady. Even at a distance, you still held your breath inside your lungs, unable to let it go no matter how much you tried.

Eventually, you had to tell Jongho that you needed to go to the restroom to get some space and hopefully refresh yourself, telling him ‘no’ when he offered to take you.

Snap out of it, Y/N, you told yourself in the subdued lighting of the ochre-themed restroom, splashing your face with a generous amount of cold tap water. Gripping the marbled sink with your trembling hands, you looked up at your reflection, watching droplets of water fall slowly from your exhausted face.

A shaky exhale leaves you. trying desperately to focus on anything except the lingering grip of Mingi’s fingers on the back of your neck. The bathroom ultimately felt too suffocating, plus staying wasn’t an option anyway - the last thing you needed was for Mingi to stay true to his threats. However, you barely made a step out when you felt yourself being slammed to the wall.

It was disorienting, and there was only one bastard who had the audacity to do that to you, but as you were about to give him a piece of your mind, another man’s voice spoke.

“You took forever in there,” he sneered, a dark undertone curling up his tone. “I thought I had to drag you out, myself.”

You froze, true fear crawling up your spine. You looked up, getting pale when you realised it was the same man from earlier who was hitting on you and now, he looked more drunk, more aggressive as he squeezed your arm painfully. “U-Uhm, you’re hurting me—” you tried to say.

“Mingi’s looking for you,” he interrupted, the pain shooting up further from your arm to your shoulder when he started dragging you towards the crowd without even waiting for you to say anything. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

You were having a difficult time keeping up with this man. The way he kept a tight grip on your arm felt different from the way Mingi had done. This one felt forceful and right, you would’ve traded anything for Mingi to be the one doing it instead because your arm genuinely hurt.

But as you stumbled, you quickly sensed that something was wrong when the music started to fade behind you, and by the time you realised that, the man had already pushed you outside.

Blood drained from your face. He had deliberately taken you out from the back where no one would come looking. “No,” you resisted, planting your feet as hard as you could on the concrete, flailing and trying to twist your arm free from his hands. “Let go of me—”

You cried out when you saw that he was trying to drag you to a lone car parked near. You clawed useless at his wrist to pry his fingers away, but this earned you a backhanded slap so hard, your head flew back.

“Shut the fuck up and get in the fucking car,” he hissed, hand shooting up, digging painfully into your jaw when you, one you couldn’t fight off because of the overwhelming nausea from him hitting you. “Or I’ll break your arm. I don’t mind fucking you with broken bones.”

Just as he was about to shove you inside his car, the back exit door slammed open so hard, it bounced off the walls in a loud echo. You slumped on the side of the car when the man’s grip loosened, wanting to just close your eyes and give in to the disorientation, but your eyes settled on the familiar figure up ahead - black suit, broad shoulders, blonde hair.

And when your eyes eventually cleared up to see who it was, you couldn’t stop the tears that fell. You’ve seen Mingi with all sorts of emotions, but not panic so raw, real, and unfiltered. His gaze swept all over you - your trembling hands, the bruise on your arms, your buckling legs.

Then, he settled on your face and the relief that washed over him was so immediate that it sent more tears down your eyes. He really was coming to get you no matter what, just like he had said.

The sight of your tears snapped Mingi out of the emotion he momentarily slipped into, burying it beneath something more infinitely dangerous.

But you couldn’t take it anymore, closing your eyes to let the darkness overcome you because you knew that whatever happened next, Mingi wasn’t going to let this man take you away.

Touch was the first thing you felt when you came to. Gentle fingers carefully gathered your hair, tucking the loose strands behind your ears. Mingi’s eyes were the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes, their usual sharpness dulled ever so slightly, his features softer somehow. You didn’t even move when his thumb brushed your swollen cheek.

Neither of you said anything, afraid of crashing this solemnity you rarely found with each other. This couldn’t be the same man - Mingi was highly intelligent and sarcastic, cunning in his ways and malicious in his murders. He likes winning conversations, gets irritated when challenged yet rarely explodes, and loves making people walk themselves into traps.

But most importantly, you knew he found you entertaining in every calculated torment he put you through. Yet here he was. His touch was careful enough that it almost frightened you.

Finally, he sighed softly, leaning away. “You’ll be alright,” was all he said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back to drive you home. I won’t be long, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed put.”

You didn’t even realise that you were currently in his car until he got out, closing the door softly so as to not startle you. You were going to pretend that didn’t happen. “W-Where are you going?” You blurted out, suddenly afraid to be alone. “Wait, the man from earlier—”

“Lock the door,” he cut off with maddening calm, staring at you for a second too long before he walked away, not bothering to look back. Having no choice, you did as he said. Another wave of exhaustion runs through you and before you knew it, you were once again dozing off.

Something must have startled you awake, though, with how you jerked slightly in your seat and judging by the embarrassing amount of drool pooled on your shirt, you must’ve napped for a while. And yet, there was still no sign of Mingi back in the car with you.

You frowned, looking at the direction where he’d walked away, your brows rising when you realised he walked into a dark, unmarked building. Immediately, something in your gut told you that something was wrong.

And like every bad decision you’ve made so far, you found yourself walking in, your footsteps impossibly loud despite how careful you walked. You were about to turn around when nothing came around when you heard voices ahead.

Gingerly, you pushed through nervously until you found yourself situated in a blind spot above a stairwell that overlooked an empty storage area.

Well, mostly empty except for two chairs where two men were bound and restrained. One of them had a gag on, wet with tears and wasted saliva, and the other one was pleading from his life while Mingi bunched his hair up in his fist. The blood drained from your face, not from what you were seeing - you were used to catching Mingi in the act. An unfortunate topic for another day - but because one of them looked very, very familiar to you.

The man who Mingi was facing was the very same man who had tried to take you earlier, his expensive suit tattered, one of his eyes already forming a nasty bruise.

“You said you’d let us go,” his panicked voice cracked. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

Mingi tilted his head. It was terrifying, really, how he regarded them with the same detachment he’d wear while reviewing quarterly reports. “Why do you sound like that? Did you miss puberty?” He asked nonchalantly. “I’m struggling not to put a bullet in your brain, so tread very carefully.”

Silence. Even you were holding your breath. “I can handle people trying to find me and try to kill me once in a while,” he continued, almost conversational. “People like you will keep going to either find nothing at all or even get to me if your stars are aligned properly.”

The man hissed in pain when Mingi seized him by the jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But you did honestly think that I’d be caught unawares?” He hissed, anger bleeding into his voice, a rare one that you’ve never heard.

“Now, riddle me this,” he said, drawing a pained gasp from the man when his grip tightened. “Would you have been luckier to find nothing…or to find me?”

A broken whimper escapes the man when Mingi lets go. Above them, your fingers curled so tightly around the railing that they ached. Every instinct screamed at you to leave, but your body refused to listen. “I won’t do it again, I was just paid to do this, I swear, I’ll leave you alone. Hell, I’ll even leave town—”

“Oh, that’s not what you’re here for,“ Mingi rolled his eyes. “See, I’m a wise man. I don’t waste time with people like you. I pay people for that. You crossed a line that wasn’t yours to touch, let alone force. I did not like that. I did not appreciate it.”

The captive's face had gone ghostly pale. His shoulders shook against the restraints, and he strained forward as if getting physically closer might somehow make Mingi believe him. “Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes, you can’t help but follow the scent of sweet fruit and resist not taking a bite,” he laughed nervously. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Mingi’s composure fractures a bit. He turned away slightly, dragging a hand slowly down the lower half of his face as though physically restraining himself from acting on the rage threatening to spill over. The man gestures towards the other captive. “He could tell you who paid us—”

“I don’t care who paid you,” Mingi snapped, words clipped by an anger he was making no effort to hide anymore. His eyes had gone frighteningly cold, but beneath them burned something raw and visceral. You had to bite down your horror when Mingi produced a knife out of nowhere and stabbed the man’s hand, pinning it on the armrest. “Those details don't matter much to me.”

The man’s bone-chilling howl drowned out your panicked, laboured breaths. You had almost forgotten how truly sadistic Mingi was; how little he cared for human life. “I didn’t mean,” the man choked out desperately as if his blood would stop flowing. “I-I swear, I didn’t know—”

“You knew enough,” was all Mingi said, quietly wiping his hand with a cloth before haphazardly tossing it away. Mingi regarded for a long moment before walking to the other man, still gagged but now with more tears and terror in his eyes.

“And you,” he scoffed, crouching until they were eye level. “I’ve been meaning to get to you for a while. You’ve made my boss into a fool chasing a pest like you. Imagine my luck when I found out you and this bastard here were connected.”

Mingi chuckled, slinging an arm around the gagged man while he stared at the other. “I’ll give you two options. See, my boss needs proof that I did my job. You understand that, don’t you?” He smirked, echoing the other man’s words from earlier.

“It’s simple. I need fingers and a tongue,” he pointed to the bloody knife. “You decide if you want your fingers to go or his,” he clapped the gagged man’s back. “Or vice versa. I’ll let you live. If not, then I suppose I must kill you.”

His shoulders caved inward as pleas poured from him in broken sobs, begging until his voice cracked into something almost unrecognizable. And Mingi listened, or rather, allowed the noise to happen.

Finally, the man caved and with shaking fingers, he reached for the knife before a strangled cry ripped from his throat as he pulled the blade free. You recoiled instantly, one hand flying to your mouth, stomach lurching so violently you thought you were about to throw up.

You watched Mingi smile. “Go on,” he murmured almost encouragingly, as though coaching someone, not caring that the man shook in pain. “You’re doing great. Don’t lose your nerve now. If you do it fast enough the pain will be over before you even knew it started. ” 

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. The captive drew one ragged breath, lifted the knife with an unsteady hand and just as he was about to land a hit, the heavy door on the opposite side of the room swung open. The man's hand froze midair and even Mingi turned. Your heart stopped. Someone else was here.

Seonghwa’s steps faltered, his eyes sweeping across the room like he walked into a scene he never expected. For one fleeting second, relief crashed over you so hard, your knees almost gave out. Seonghwa, who was gentle with his smiles, always remembered your pastries, and always cared for you, could stop Mingi. Unfortunately, the hostage took this distraction to move.

“Don’t move,” he threatened, fear thick in his voice despite the way he grabbed his other companion to wrap his arm around him, knife dangerously close to his neck. “I swear to God I’ll slice his neck. You won’t find out who paid us to kill you, Mingi, if you touch me.”

You needed to warn Seonghwa. You didn’t need Mingi targeting him next for being here. But before you could think further, a gunshot rang out. You jolted at the sound, and for one second, you couldn’t understand what was happening, that is, until you looked closely.

The captive remained standing, eyes wide and knife still raised, the gagged man he’d been using as a shield collapsed at his feet. He was dead, a bullet tearing clear through his heart.

Seonghwa stood with one arm extended, a pistol resting comfortably in his hand, smoke still drifting from the barrel. “Not much of an upper hand now, are you?”

He tilted his head rhetorically as if mildly inconvenienced. It all happened in a split second - the man barely had time to open his mouth before Seonghwa shot again, clean between the eyes, sharp and precise.

He let out a sigh, not even bothering to look at the corpses, before shooting a glance at Mingi. “I distinctly remember telling you not to play with your food,” he clicked his tongue, casually putting the gun down a nearby table. “Did Yeosang actually ask for proof? Which one was on the list?”

Mingi snorted, pointing at the man who was shot first. “No, not really,” he admitted, amused at the questions. “I’m a man of my word, though. I meant it when I said they’d live. Why?”

Seonghwa didn’t reply. Instead, he stood to retrieve the knife, turning it over between his fingers. “I’m bored,” he shrugged, voice pleasant. Though his eyes showed otherwise, a glint so sinister the knife couldn’t compete.

You had to shut your eyes when Seonghwa grabbed one of the corpses’ hands and went to work, putting your hands over your ears to drown out his cheerful whistling and the unpleasant sound of squelching blood and metal crushing bones.

This wasn’t Seonghwa - the man hacking away body parts methodically like he did this everyday was not your friend. The illusion shattered so violently that it hurt you more than Mingi had ever done because at least Mingi never pretended; he had shown you exactly who he was from the beginning.The tears came before you realised it, the grief far worse than fear. It was absurd to mourn someone who was still here, but perhaps, the friend you knew never existed to begin with.

Mingi watched him for another second before speaking. “No remorse for the guy?”

Seonghwa didn’t even bother looking up. “I wouldn’t pee on him even if he were on fire.”

Mingi raised his brows, more in fascination rather than blatant surprise, an amused whistle escaping through his teeth. “You’re evil,” he grinned, shaking his head.

Seonghwa let out a laugh, a real one that made his eyes crinkle. “That may be so, but I’m not as cruel as you,” he retorted lightheartedly, lifting a finger to signal men to drag the corpses away before continuing. “The translator shtick was creative, I’ll give you that, but not slipping once in your mother tongue after months of working together?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in vague admiration. “Incredible discipline. Shouldn’t have expected less from the Song Mingi, himself,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “It’s either discipline…or obsession.”

Your blood froze. No, you desperately thought. Your heart already knew what Seonghwa meant, but your mind refused to accept it, and it still hit when Mingi spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged innocently, replying in flawless Japanese. “I did need a translator. My Mandarin is pretty shitty, if I may say so myself.”

Seonghwa scoffed, rolling his eyes, fully offended at what he had just heard. “Don’t bullshit me, Mingi,” he replied in perfect, natural Mandarin. “You may not be fluent, but you’re decent enough. God, it’s been years and the way your mind functions still baffles me sometimes.”

Something inside you cracked open. Mingi never needed you. Everything crashed into you with suffocating force. He watched your panic over carefully chosen words all because he wanted to. He stared at Seonghwa for the longest moment before letting out a laugh, shooting his hands up in faux innocence as if he was caught stealing from a cookie jar. “You got me,” he mocked. “You said it yourself. My food, my rules. I get to play with it whenever I damn well please.”

Seonghwa’s amusement vanished. It was gradual, just enough for something infinitely more dangerous to settle on his face. “Careful, Mingi,” he started, inhumanly flat. “That food you’re referring to is Y/N,” he paused. He spoke your name with so much gentleness. “And I happen to like her very, very much. You’re not the only one with eyes, Mingi, so I’d watch your back if I were you. I’ve seen you play with her for way too long and I won’t stand by it anymore.”

The ease drained from Mingi’s posture first, the lazy tilt of his head disappearing, his eyes shifting into something far more terrifying than you’ve seen it. For the first time since you’d met him, Mingi looked genuinely angry. “Park Seonghwa,” he began, taking a measured step forward. “There are some things I tolerate, and some things that I won’t. You can borrow my car and you can raid my liquor cabinet. You can even take tens and thousands from my bank account.”

He paused to take more steps. “And I wouldn’t care,” he continued. They stood so close that their faces were mere inches away. “You can take anything you want, but you better not steal from me,” he seethed quietly. “Do not stand before me and tell me you’re entertaining thoughts you have no intentions of surviving. Because I won’t let you. Don’t take my goodwill for granted.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, pushing Mingi away. “Don’t piss me off. You already burned through every ounce of my goodwill when you shot Yamada in my fucking office on my favourite couch?” Seonghwa snapped, voice rising higher, unable to reel in his annoyance. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep the Kangs happy after that stunt, you disastrous son of a bitch?”

“Anyway,” Seonghwa sighed before his voice softened, and for a second, you couldn’t help but still see that friend you’ve come to like, especially knowing that he felt a little differently for you. But only for a second. “She’s been through enough tonight. Leave her alone. She looked so peaceful sleeping in your car when I passed by it earlier.”

Mingi shook his head, almost fondly. “No, she’s not.”

Your lungs seized inside your ribs. You subconsciously took a step back, hoping that he was speaking in tongues and doesn’t actually believe you were gone. Seonghwa frowned, his eyes following Mingi as he began to walk towards the exit. “You don’t know her like I do, Hwa,” he chuckled, reaching for the door. “By now, she’s probably long gone. You’ll be lucky if you even see a lick of her shadow at work this week because she’ll never step foot in KQ ever again.”

Something about the way he said it made your body scream. “But she’ll keep thinking about me. Fear has a funny way of making you remember someone. So yeah, she’ll run,” he said, smile  deepening, eyes glimmering into something more pleased and exciting. “And I’ll let her.”

The terror had seeped so deeply into your bones by now that your body hollowed itself out. The entire time you’ve been trying to navigate around Mingi, you had been dancing exactly the way he wanted you to. You thought you were running - Mingi knew how you’d react as if you running was something he already accounted for. Your choices were never yours to begin with.

“Whatever, you sick bastard,” Seonghwa’s dry dismissal cut through the silence. “Go play cat and mouse somewhere and get the hell out of my company. I’ll admit, you did a great job, but you bossing me around was getting on my nerves. Plus, I can’t take Hongjoong’s complaints anymore. You’ve been running my assistant to the ground, you opportunist,” he sighed. “Yeosang will put out a statement to avoid conflict or I’ll ask Wooyoung to take over the list for you.” 

His company? And what list? This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard of it. The words landed harder than the gunshots had and it suddenly explained every conversation where Seonghwa would pop up out of nowhere. It explained why Hongjoong acted the way he did, why Mingi himself never really challenged Seonghwa, and why Yunho bowed a little lower. It had always been Seonghwa who was holding the leash - Mingi was just the convenient front, but for what? 

Mingi shrugged, the statement not even bothering him, twisting the door handle to leave the premises. But before he could take a step, Seonghwa’s voice stopped him. “Mingi?” He spoke quietly, eyes softening significantly. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, pausing for just a fraction before he smirked. “We’ll see.”

Jongho made true to his promise. You haphazardly packed the bare minimum before San did the same at his place, all in the same night. Jongho’s apartment was modest and his generosity earned him a thousand thanks along with the tightest hug from you. “So, what now?” San asked that night after everything had settled, holding your hand tight in his. “What’s going to happen?”

Truthfully, you haven’t gotten that far yet, and admittedly, none of you thought this through. However, you did know one thing. “I’m going to the police,” you finally said. And you meant it this time. Out of all the crimes you’ve unwillingly witnessed, there was something about this last one that genuinely scared you. It wasn’t a burden you were willing to carry alone anymore.

Jongho and San looked at you, both concerned and uncertain. "They might not believe me," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to try. I-I can’t do this alone anymore. I just,” you paused, throat tight. “I need a record. That someone at some point reported it…”

They understood what you meant. If something ever happened to you, at least someone would hopefully connect the dots. For now, all of you agreed it was best to lay low for a while until the dust settles. But once it does, you really were going to go to the police station. It didn’t matter anymore because you were done protecting monsters; done going insane to remain sane.

It had been almost five months since then of you just sitting duck. Jongho decided that him working at KQ would cause the least suspicion and San absolutely forbid you from going out. You weren’t going to complain. You’ve found a routine designed to numb your brain and for the most part, you operated with the intent of forgetting, just walking around in a daze.

The image of Mingi just wouldn’t go away. You’d often wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about him, having spent the last few weeks pushing him out of your mind with no success. You didn’t bet on lasting this long hidden away, however, there was a small part of you that ached at the thought that, maybe, he wouldn’t even bother with you anymore. It was confusing and revolting at the same time; the maximum reason why you couldn’t sit still in Jongho’s apartment. 

There was only so much of this that you could take. Needless to say, San wasn’t pleased when you told him that you’ve made up your mind and was finally going to make a move. “Y/N, I don’t know, I have a terrible feeling about this,” he spoke nervously over the phone. “Can’t you at least wait until the end of the week to decide?”

“I can’t, Sannie,” you murmured, turning the doorknob to enter your apartment. “I can’t live with uncertainty anymore. I already spoke with a detective earlier before I left. I just need to grab a couple of things from my place and then we can all go to the police station tomorrow.”

The moment you hung up the phone and entered your apartment, you wanted to crash. Oh, how you missed your place and the normalcy it provided. It wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little while you planned your next move, but first, you were going to change your clothes. You’ve been wearing the same ones for months and you felt bad for borrowing Jongho’s a lot. You headed up to your bedroom, not bothering to close the door, and started to take your shirt off.

But you froze when you heard the door close behind you. Slowly - painfully slowly - you turned around. Mingi stood leaning against the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. He looked…different. Gone was the suit, replaced by a leather jacket that looked lethal on him. And his hair was black now, messy and unstyled. Somehow, the darker hair made him look younger.

It also made him look even more dangerous. Or was it that unfathomable look in his eyes as he watched you that bordered between predatory and repressed anger? You had no idea; all you knew was that the sight of him made something inside you stir treacherously, but that didn’t last long because the fear had caught on. You’d escaped, you were finally safe, so how was he here?

“Mingi,” you whispered, the fear in your voice unmistakable, eyes darting around in search for the nearest weapon you could use to protect yourself, but finding nothing. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t reply, eyes still fixed on you. His eyes always unsettled you, but this one felt different. There wasn’t that sadistic amusement you’ve gotten used to nor that smug satisfaction that was always lingered. His stare was just pure ice with absolutely nothing in them. “Because I was looking for you,” he said, pushing himself away from the door.

You frowned, clearly not satisfied with this answer. He noticed and cocked his head in question. “Why? Were you expecting more?” Mingi asked, stepping closer to you. “Did you want me to tell you how irritated I was that you hid from me for so long?”

You maintained eye contact, raising your chin in defiance, trying not to falter when he stopped in front of you so close that his chest was brushing against your breasts. “You knew where I was,” you said, gritting your teeth when the tiniest quirk of his lips confirmed it. “There’s nothing for you here, Mingi, please just leave. I’m happy being with Jongho—”

“Enough,” his voice cut through like a blade. He quickly darted his hand out to your cheeks, gripping them painfully. “I must say, though, this is very nice,” he began with a dark chuckle, turning your face once as if he was inspecting a product. “Seeing you actually seeing me, if you get what I mean. I have to get used to it, but I am enjoying it so far. I mean it.”

Your blood turned to ice when the meaning struck instantly. All those months of looking through him and forcing your eyes out of focus. And now, your eyes were fully locked onto his. "So that's what your eyes look like when you’re not pretending to be blind," he whispered almost tenderly. "It’s so honest. It also means I can finally watch them tell me exactly how afraid you are."

The way he said it was far more unsettling than his presence. His voice had no teasing tilt anymore, none of that false gentleness that unnerved you and each word sounded flat. “So you've always known,” you couldn’t help but say as realisation hits you at the same time - that the polished, professional man in front of you had been hiding behind plausible deniability. And now that the jig was up, there was no reason for Mingi to maintain that mask. “Since when?”

“Right from when I saw you watch me shoot that man on the trail,” Mingi snorted derisively. Your breath hitched. Hearing him say it out loud like this right in front of your face brought in a new type of terror. “Wouldn’t be good with what I did if I couldn't tell, would I? It was funny,” he chuckled. “And so dumb at the same time that I couldn’t even be mad even if I wanted to.”

You glared at his blatant disregard of why you even had to resort to such methods in the first place, raising your hands to pry his fingers away, but that only resorted to him narrowing his eyes in warning, gripping your cheek harder. “Why did you let me go if it was so dumb, then?” You bit back. “You could have killed me on the spot and no one would’ve known except the trees.” “I wanted to fuck with you, was that so wrong? You can’t play games and not expect someone to not want to play with you. Or did you just not want me as your playmate?” He replied nonchalantly. “I’m not that bad. That’s why I made Seonghwa hire Choi Jongho. I saw he was being nice to you and I figured you needed someone who wasn’t part of this fiasco so you wouldn’t lose your mind. I don’t particularly enjoy playing with my food when they’re bland.”

Hot, searing rage courses through you, bone-deep in its intensity. He played you like a damn instrument and your melody invigorated him. You slapped his hand away from your cheek with adrenaline-fueled anger, even going as far as slapping his cheek once his hand let go. You hit him and you made sure it hurt. “You son of a bitch,” you seethed. “I saw everything, including Yamada and the warehouse with Seonghwa. I’m going to tell on you, Mingi, I swear I will. ”

You didn’t care anymore. Mingi let out a small laugh of disbelief, grazing his now bleeding lip with his tongue. “I knew you saw everything. Your reactions were never really subtle,” he said, speaking so casually that it made your stomach churn. “And that’s fine. You can go to the police. I’ll even drive you there. I reckon they’ll actually believe you. The only question is…”

You whimpered when he grabbed your arm and bent it behind your back painfully before slamming you up against the nearest wall. The room suddenly felt small, Mingi was too close; too warm for comfort. “...if they would do something about it,” he continued, getting closer, his breath tickling your ear, voice lowering just enough for your senses to cloud. “Think about it, Y/N.”

You swallowed, the sickening understanding finally dawning on you; he was right, the police would believe you. They just wouldn’t move because they were KQ’s lapdogs. You gasped when Mingi nibbled on your ear. “Yahtzee. That’s my girl,” he whispered, voice rough. “See? You can be smart if you want to be. A smarter choice would be to listen to everything I say from now on.”

You didn’t understand what he meant until you felt his hips grind against your behind, the feeling of his hardness palpable especially in this position. “Go to hell, Song Mingi,” you growled, not hesitating to tilt your head, the back of your skull catching him square on the face. “You can fucking shove it. You think this is a game to me? You murdered people. You terrorised me every single day, almost got me hit by a car, and almost burned me, you psychopathic pervert.”

Mingi grunted, grip on you relaxing as he clutched his face in pain. You took that opportunity to break free, kicking him again just to make sure he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. It worked, even setting him a few steps back. “You’re retaliating,” he pointed out flatly. The only sign that he was getting angrier was the cruel glint in his eyes as he watched you and the violent rise and fall of his chest. “That’s fine. I love the initiative. I just love punishing it more.”

You screamed both in pain and surprise when he lunged, grabbing you by the hair to force you to look at him. “Here’s what’s going to happen, sweet pea,” he whispered, nothing short of sinister, sliding his other hand to your throat and starting to squeeze. “I’m going to have you. Do you know what that means?” He paused to chuckle grimly. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to wriggle out of his hold, but Mingi’s hand just tightens. Tears collect in your eyes in fear, but there was something else too, something you refused to admit. That realization made your stomach turn because you were supposed to hate this, yet you were here. You had gotten so used to Mingi chasing you that it started to feel wrong if you weren’t on edge. You had started to associate Mingi with adrenaline and needed him for excitement.

But still, this was wrong. You weren’t going down for this. Not for him and not for whatever twisted hold he had managed to build around you. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time. I knew from the moment I saw you on that trail that you were something special, but I had to wait. Now,” his husky voice purred with a hint of barely concealed warning. “You’re going to give it to me. I don’t enjoy hurting you, but I will if you don’t listen.”

You were absolutely not going to accept whatever he planned for you without a fight. With all the strength you could muster, you punched him square in the jaw. His eyes widened for a fraction as he groaned in pain and you pushed him away, chest heaving violently. You didn’t hesitate to hit him again, but he managed to grab your arm before you could, lifting his own hand to backhand your cheek, causing you to stagger at the sheer force of it, your face already pulsing in pain.

“Not bad, love,” he laughed, massaging the jaw you hit. “I would like to not do that again, so how about this? You apologise to me and say you’ll be a good girl and you won’t do it again. Make it sound good and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you and go easy on you.” 

You spit on his face after that statement. Mingi closed his eyes to contain himself, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he wiped your spit off with the same hand he used to backhand you. When he opened his eyes again, you knew you were done for. His body was fully locked in, jaw locked stiff, rage simmering behind his eyes beneath deceitful calm - the type of calm that meant he’d already decided to hurt you. He just didn’t know where to start.

You made a run for the door, but unfortunately, Mingi was faster. He slammed the door shut before you could even get near. “I let you run off for too long now,” he hissed, yanking you away from the door. “You’re mine, Y/N. I’m going to have fun making this lesson memorable for you.”

You refused to stay still, kicking and scratching at him with all your might. “I don’t belong to you, Mingi,” you seethed. “You don’t own me, and you can’t just force me into it!”

He stared at you, eyes hollow and vacant in the most terrifying way, every trace of mercy deliberately carved out and discarded. “Your life was over the second I laid my eyes on you. And let me tell you something, I rarely want because I already know the outcome. But let me ask you this,” he said softly, holding your face deceptively gentle. “Who are you trying to convince?”

He barely let a second pass before he tightly held your head, keeping you still as he crashed his lips against yours. There was no tenderness in his actions; just viciousness and brutality. You whimpered in resistance, biting his lower lip until you tasted blood. He groaned at the pain, pushing you away to slam your head by the door. That caught you off guard, but if he was going to hurt you, then you’d repay him in kind.

That head slam did stun you for a moment. You couldn’t stop him when he threw you on the bed, immediately straddling your legs, holding your arms above your head. His eyes clouded, pupils blown over from pure desire, cursing under his breath. You gasped when he ripped your shirt clean off you with one hand, yanking your bra aside to squeeze your tit harshly. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fuck, you look so good like this beneath me.”

You hissed in pain and started to struggle even though desire ran rampant through your veins, hot and searing, but Mingi wasn’t budging. He bent down, closing his mouth around your nipple, his tongue tracing around your sensitive bud. You groaned in response, arching against him as you were torn between your body trying to decide whether it wanted him gone or worse, inside you. When he pulled back just an inch, his smirk was knowing, pure of nothing but sin.

“Don’t do this, Mingi, please,” you all but begged, squirming weakly against the restraints of his hands, but for naught. He responded with a quiet huff. He slid his jacket off, revealing broad shoulders clad in a tight, black tank top that left nothing to your imagination. You jerked your head away when he tried to kiss your jaw, but you just felt him smile against your skin.

“Ah, ah. No begging yet, sweetheart. Not unless I tell you to,” he murmured, licking all over your neck all the way down to your shoulders and started to suck and bite. Mingi was indulging himself, ravishing you and relishing in your pain. You hissed, slightly relieved that your body wasn’t betraying you. That is, until you felt his hand starting to travel down.

“M-Mingi,” you whimpered when he immediately put a finger in you, not even waiting until you were ready, eyes glinting at the sound. He was gentle with his strokes, hitting you in spots you didn’t even know were possible. It elicited humiliating cries from you and you just wanted to die then and there. "You’re making a b-big mistake,” you panted helplessly against his ministrations. “I-If I don't show up, people are going to look for me. You're a damn fool."

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. You gasped loudly when he pushed another finger in, keeping the pressure until he was knuckles deep. “Let them look,” he replied flatly, not caring in the slightest, pushing in and out of you. You closed your eyes tightly, your whimpers turning into screams when he pushed a third finger roughly. He made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re beautiful when you scream like this,” he growled.

It hurt badly, but that pain started to ebb slightly when he started circling his thumb against your clit. It was agony on top of another. You writhed against him to try and reduce the overwhelming sensations attacking you, but it didn’t work. You moaned helplessly when his fingers sped up, his thumbs pressing down on you, until you were screaming for dear life. “Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me,” he whispered over and over again, voice getting huskier with desire.

And you did. Mingi had to hold your trembling body tight to ease you back slowly. Tears streamed down from your face - both from pain and intense pleasure - and he didn’t hesitate to lick them off. Your head lolled back, your body exhausted from just that one ordeal. “I’m going to kill you after this, I swear,” you whispered when he pulled his fingers out and got up from the bed to leave you alone for a bit. 

You heard Mingi chuckle almost fondly over the sound of something you refused to acknowledge - the sound of something metallic clinking followed by a zipping sound and fabric rustling. “You do that, love. I’d like to see you try,” he replied simply as he got naked, exposing hard muscles that lead to his cock. Even through the haze, your eyes couldn’t help but widen.

Your heart was beating crazily with fear and you had half the mind to scramble up, scooting away from him as far away as possible. Mingi stalked towards you, utterly predatory, grabbing and dragging you by the legs until your ass hit his muscular thighs. He tried to pull your pants off, but you weren’t having it. You kicked at him, successfully hitting him once or twice, but Mingi was heavier and much stronger. Eventually, he was able to get rid of your pants along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and exposed for him.

You were panicking. If you let him touch you, your resolve would weaken and you knew it. Mingi knew it too. He wedged himself between your legs to pin your wrists above your head, nudging himself against your entrance before he finally thrusted in hard. “Mingi,” you cried out loudly, half in pleasure, mostly in pain. You felt full, the fullest you’ve ever been, and the suddenness of his thrust made your insides sting and black spots to dance behind your eyes temporarily.

Mingi wasn’t faring any better. He inhaled controlled breaths, lips pursed together in great effort not to lose himself to the sensation of your tight cunt. He grunted low, the veins on his neck pulsating with great need. When he leaned back slightly to look at you, you moaned in surprise. Just there by the surface was a look of barely-contained lust and sadism, his eyes hazing out with pure desire. You clenched around him and it was enough to drive him totally wild.

“You’re mine, Y/N, you hear me? I’ll make sure of it. Gonna fuck you so hard and have you screaming for me every night from now on,” Mingi growled, voice guttural and dripping with arousal, leaning down to kiss you, but you turned your head away. “Am I going to have to break you?” He asked softly, clearly not looking forward to the idea, but not completely opposed to it either. “I’m already inside you, baby. Not much you can do but give in, really.”

You squared your jaw in defiance. “Drop dead, Mingi,” you spat venomously.

You cried out sharply when he started thrusting into you, rough and fast just like he intended to. You couldn’t even moan out properly - he was using you as if you were a sex toy only made for his pleasure. “If you’re not going to listen to me, I hope my dick sends my message well,” he laughed sadistically at your cries and resistance. “Now, do you understand?”

He kissed you, tongue demanding to be let in as he rocked his hips to ease his cock into you over and over again, not stopping until you felt his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. He let go of your wrists to wrap around you and held on tight, thoroughly claiming every inch of your body he could touch as his. Your pride wouldn’t let you off, so you still fought him as much as you could, struggling under his restraints while you tried to distract yourself from the feeling of his cock impaling you over and over again.

But Mingi wasn’t having it. He slows down his thrusts, giving you time to get yourself together, but not before he grabs your arm, pressing and squeezing hard at a particular spot that hurts so much that you let out an actual scream of pure pain. “Ow, ow, M-Mingi, you’re hurting me,” you whined, involuntarily squeezing his cock in because the pain mixed with his cock hitting your spot over and over again did something to you. “Stop it, stop—”

“Then stop resisting and give in to me,” he said, letting go of your arm, rubbing the bruised skin tenderly for a moment. “I meant it when I said I’ll make you scream. I just didn’t specify how. And I can do it again and again until I’m satisfied. Do you want that, little love?”

You glared at him, angry tears falling from your eyes. You took a deep breath in, trying to regain some of your dignity and strength. If he wanted a clear answer from you, then he was going to wait a while. Mingi smiled nastily, pulling back out only to thrust back in viciously, pleased when you let out a guttural moan. “I told you you were mine and I meant it,” he simply said.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe it. You absolutely did, God, you really did. Your heart was aware and your body was more than willing, but your mind refused to acknowledge it. You scowled at him, expression full of loathing and hatred. You sure as hell weren’t going to tell him that. But somehow, the glint in his eyes told you he already knew as he increased his speed in fucking you. “Go fuck yourself,” you sneered. “You are never going to have all of me, I swear to you.”

“Is that so?” He raised a brow, amused. He angled his hips in a certain way and it hit a spot in you so good that you couldn’t help but keen. He did this over and over again that once you got over the initial discomfort, Mingi’s body started to feel disturbingly comfortable against yours. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, pleased with your reactions. “I swear your pussy was made for me.”

You shook your head in denial, but that just prompted him to increase his speed just a little. You started to feel heat rising within you and at this point, it was getting difficult to deny just how good this was getting, but you weren’t giving up just yet. You moaned in dissatisfaction, struggling just a bit as a futile act of defiance. Mingi clicked his tongue in annoyance, and in retaliation, lifted your legs up to your chest so he could go even deeper and you swear you saw stars.

“Did you like that?” He growled, sliding his hand down to your ass so he could pull you against him even harder. His other hand went behind your head to pull your hair, dragging your head upright. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Tell me you like it while I fuck you hard, baby.”

You whined in response, your brain not entirely cooperating with your body anymore. “Yes,” you replied without thinking, arching your back against him. You regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth, but there was nothing you could do to take it back anymore. 

Mingi shuddered. “God, you little whore. You’re so fucking beautiful, and so dirty just for me.” he moaned, utterly wrecked, before his eyes snapped back into that dark, sadistic gleam you knew him for. “But only for me, yeah?” He whispered, the threat clear in his voice. “You don’t get to be a whore outside the bedroom. Only for my eyes and no one else’s. Say it.”

You echoed his moan. Nobody had ever spoken to you like this before and your body was burning in shame, but it didn’t compare the burn of being called a whore and actually liking it. You had never felt so desired in all your life and you didn’t know how to feel. “I-I don’t know, Mingi,” you squeaked in admittance, letting out another moan when you felt him fuck into you again.

That moan turned into a whimper when he squeezed your ass cheek painfully. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He scoffed. “Look at yourself, pretending you don’t want this. Pretending you never enjoyed all the times I supposedly ‘tormented’ you. Your pussy is telling me otherwise, little one. You always enjoyed me being in charge.”

“Are you for fucking r-real? Congratulations, M-Mingi. You’ve managed to condition someone to fear you and mistook my survival for desire for y-you” You forced out, trying to sound angry, trying to reel in your moans, looking him dead in the eye. “You know what I actually enjoyed? Everyone’s presence except yours. Even Seonghwa’s as fake as it might’ve been. He’s—”

His hand shot out so fast you barely caught it before it wrapped itself around your throat. “Do not mention his name. And let’s get this straight, you survived because I allowed you to,” he hissed in legitimate anger, eyes reddening at the sheer intensity of it. “Now shut the hell up,” he said, grip tightening enough to hurt you. “And let me fuck you.” 

Mingi slid his cock out of you before ramming it back in with more force. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but Mingi’s feral state didn’t really care. His strong fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you forward to time it with his powerful thrusts. He stared down at you, eyes hazed and mouth parted open that betrayed how good it made him feel. “Ready to give up and tell me how good my cock is making you feel yet, baby?” He groaned.

The roughness in his voice combined with the possessiveness in his eyes sent shivers all over your body and you felt your toes start to curl in pleasure. “Never. I’d rather eat glass,” you gritted out, though the moans and whimpers that fell from your mouth after said otherwise. His jaw tightened for a second before a malicious grin spread across his lips.

“M-Mingi, please, ow,” you sobbed when he put a hand on your stomach, increasing the pressure as he pressed down hard, and you felt his cock kiss your cervix as he thrust the deepest he could go. The force of it hurt and before you could even process it, his other hand slid down to your clit and slowly, he started to rub in circles. You were delirious with all these overwhelming sensations, and your loud moans proved it, but goddamn, it felt good.

It scared you. You shouldn’t feel this way. In all the months you’ve been with Mingi, you’d never felt more alive. It was easy for you to leave from the start. He was brutal and rough, but the way he looked at you and obsessed over you was something you couldn’t ignore. And that was the problem. Your body suddenly tensed with fear because you were getting attached. Mingi felt the tension and paused. “Relax, love,” he murmured. “I don’t want it to hurt. Not too much, at least.”

He was never going to stop, and you knew how much this could hurt if you continued to tense up. So as much as you hated it, you tried to relax, gasping and feeling your cunt clench around him as he worked your clit, echoing his moans when he picked up the pace. “So fucking good, baby,” Mingi groaned harshly, the movement of his hips becoming erratic, breathing getting heavier.

He started to bite all over your shoulder, nuzzling your neck to pepper it with little kisses, his hand traveling from your tummy to your tits, alternating between squeezing and pinching your nipples. And when his lips found yours to set another brutal onslaught, eventually you found yourself kissing him back, no less brutal than him. It was all tongue and teeth gnashing against one another. “Mmm,” you moaned helplessly in his mouth, focusing on your pleasure this time.

To your surprise, Mingi slows down. Instead of the fast and shallow pounding, it became longer and deeper. You whined in response, not being able to believe that this could feel even better. His eyes were smouldering as he looked at you, pulling back and sinking into you over and over again with surprisingly gentle motions. “Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered.

You couldn’t speak, but it didn’t matter. Your wanton moans told him everything he needed to know. “You love this,” he grunted, pausing in between to suck and bite your neck. You moaned out a quiet response, pulling his hair a bit in affirmation. “Fuck,” he growled, shuddering at the sensation. “Tell me again,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You felt a wave of shameful pleasure ripple through you at the thought of actually having to repeat yourself but louder, especially while looking to those eyes that you feared so much these past few months. Your lips stayed shut, too embarrassed and prideful to say what he wanted to hear. He huffed impatiently, coaxing a response from you. “M-Mingi, please,” you whined.

But Mingi knew you. He leaned down, nuzzling your neck to position yourselves into an intimate embrace so you wouldn’t look him in the eye and you knew that you just ran out of excuses. “You drive me fucking insane, I swear,” he confessed through grunts. “Tell me what you want, baby doll, I’ll give it to you. Just as I’ve given you everything so far. I’ll put you on top so you can ride my cock and tell me, do you want that?”

You let out a breathy ‘no’ in response and he smiled against your ear. “You love it when I’m top of you, hmm?” He asked, voice getting huskier. You had to hold on to his shoulder to stop yourself from feeling faint. “You love it when I hold you down like this? When you feel dominated?”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, not being able to take it anymore. He growled, pleased with your response, sinking his teeth into your throat before he leaned back again, groaning when he saw how far gone you were, and it was all for him. “I do, Mingi, I do, Please.”

He grasped your chin roughly, making sure your entire attention is all on him, all traces of pleasure gone to be replaced with the familiar sadism and brutality for a second as he spoke. “If you ever look at someone the way you’re looking at me right now, I’m going to destroy you,” he asserted, the threat coated with nothing but the truth and the determination to carry it out if you ever even think of crossing him. “I promise you that, Y/N. I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

His thrusts became downright rough once more as he filled you over and over again, his intent clear with the goal of making you come. It should have hurt, but you didn’t care about the pain anymore. Your fingers curled, scratching his skin in desperation, and somehow with that  threat, you lost it. You opened your mouth to let out an animalistic sound you didn’t even recognise as your own, body bucking against Mingi’s as waves of pleasure finally crashed over you.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock. God, baby, you’re gonna make me fucking come,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to chase his own high. His hips jerked, pressing his forehead to yours and let out a primal growl that sent a thrill through you. A harsh moan of your name escapes his lips as you feel his cock pulse, warmth filling your insides to the brim.

You were exhausted, laying next to Mingi as his cum started to drip out of you, but you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was sleep all week. The regret was already building, but you were too tired to even entertain it. You were about to fall unconscious when you felt him stir beside you. “Come here real quick,” he muttered before his hand shot out, gripping your jaw hard to force your face towards his. “Open your mouth.”

Your pulse hammered as you fought the urge to pull away, but you do as he says anyway, eyes widening in surprise and panic when he stuck his fingers in. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began calmly, pausing to watch every flicker of emotion cross your face. “You’re going to freshen up so you could take a quick nap, pack some of your clothes, and then go downstairs. I’m going home and you’re coming with me. You understand that so far, little one?”

Your eyes widened, hesitating, but he sticks his fingers a bit deeper in your throat and you choke on them. “I said, do you understand me?” Mingi reiterated. You finally gave him a reluctant nod, tears in your eyes. “Good,” he said, taking his fingers out. “Get rest. I’ll wake you up after.”

He released you as though nothing had happened, getting up to put his clothes back on. The second he turned, you lunged. The lamp left your hand before you could think, crashing against the wall as he sidestepped it with irritating ease. “You have got to stop trying to kill me, Y/N. You’re giving me a massive hard-on,” he clicked his tongue. 

You grabbed another random item, but all he did was grab your wrist, exhaling tiredly rather than in anger. “Stop it. I will fuck you again, I mean it,” he said. “And when I do, I will be forced to drag your pretty ass with me because you’re not going to be able to walk after. You and I both know I’m very, very well-versed in dragging dead weight.”

The certainty in his voice chilled you far more than the threat itself. His words lodged something deep in your chest, though. He moved at ease like nothing between you happened when in reality, everything happened. “You’re shameless, you know?” You scoffed, breathing ragged to contain yourself. “I understand you want to assert control over me, but there are better ways. I don’t believe that you were actually going to kill me, so do you even like me, Mingi?”

His eyes never left you and that only made the anger in your chest fester. Mingi didn't say anything for a while and he looked like he was actually genuinely thinking of what to say in response to your loaded question. “You wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t,” he finally said. “And I was going to. I tried many times. Failed multiple times. Backed out twice as much.”

You were taken aback, blinking in disbelief. But the way Mingi stared at you dead in the eye with seriousness on his face told you that he wasn’t lying. You bit your lip, swallowing down emotions you didn’t dare name out loud. “No. Do you even honestly care for my well-being?” You said instead, ignoring his second answer. “Or do you just want to possess me just because you can?”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment. There wasn't a flicker of guilt in his face, just that same maddening composure. “What’s the difference?” He asked, the question landing with no emotion as though the distinction had never once occurred to him.

Something in you just fell apart then and there and for the first time since meeting him, you didn’t have any retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion more than defeat. “You scare me,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes burning with tears you knew he could see. “You genuinely scare me, Song Mingi.”

His mouth parted in surprise, brows raising a bit as if he expected you to say anything but that. When he did speak, his voice was softer and quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “On the contrary,” he began breathlessly. “You scare me.”

You frowned. There was no manipulation in his voice. His gaze wandered slowly across your face until he met your eyes without blinking. “This,” he said softly. “The way you’re looking at me right now. I was wondering whether there was anything underneath the fear and disdain.”

The words were quiet, even your heartbeat was more deafening. His tongue pressed against his cheek. “I’m scared,” he repeated calmly. “Of the day you stop looking at me like this.”

You huffed in defiance, folding your arms over your seatbelt, refusing to acknowledge Mingi as he drove. It wasn’t like you were the only one not speaking anyway, the moment he basically shoved you and your haphazardly packed luggage in his car, he hadn't spoken a word. “Where are you taking me, you brute?” You asked harshly, not being able to take the silence anymore.

A small smile takes over Mingi’s sharp face and you have to stop the urge to curse out loud. The light hit his handsome features just right, his darkened hair falling over his forehead slightly as he effortlessly manoeuvered the wheel. “Home, I told you,” he said. “Have I not made myself clear enough? I won’t do anything to you, little peach, so don’t worry.”

“That’s not gonna be good enough,” you replied in anger. “And I was home. You know, the one you broke into - which I still don’t know how long you’ve been in there before you ambushed me, by the way - and the one you took me from without permission. I want to go back.”

“Well, this is the best you’re going to get,” he retorted, something flashing in his eyes quickly before it disappeared. “You’re in no position to make demands here. You’re mine. I’m the one who gets to decide what happens to you from here then on so I suggest you get used to it. Or you can spend the rest of your life being chased by me. You pick. I don’t mind either option.”

There was a fleeting second where you imagined both scenarios, and both of them made you tremble either way. You sneered at him in an attempt to look as though you weren’t flustered. “I really, really hope you rot in hell, Mingi,” you glared at him venomously. “Truly.”

He laughed. Really laughed. The kind that made his body vibrate, eyes crinkle almost shut, and all of his teeth bared that reflected his genuine joy. “And here I was thinking that you’d be a little more cooperative after waking up from that power nap,” he chuckled. “Regardless, I can always use more methods of coercion if you can’t be civil with me.”

“Civil?” You echoed in disbelief, a look of disgust on your face. “Look at me!”

He spared a short sideways glance towards you, smirking at the sight of the hickeys and bruises that littered your skin, savouring the wince you let out when he purposefully hit a road bump just now. “Nothing that won’t heal in a matter of days,” he brushed off nonchalantly, killing the car engine. “Though that could be arranged right now if you’re interested.”

You weren’t going to give him the reaction so you stayed silent until he rounded up in the nicer part of the city, clearly away from your tax bracket, and killed the engine in front of the fanciest building in the area. “Get cosy,” he muttered the moment you both entered his place and closed the door, taking his jacket off and tossing it somewhere before setting his wallet and keys on the marble kitchen island. “I have a quick phone call to make. I’ll be right back.”

It was only until he left that you allowed yourself to breathe. You let your eyes drift around the apartment. It was beautiful, that much was undeniable. You weren’t surprised; Mingi had money and he sure acted like it. Yet somehow, it felt empty. Not because it didn’t have Mingi’s personal effects, but because it lacked life. There was something about this apartment that felt so hollow to you, like it was more of a showroom rather than something that’s supposed to be lived in.

You don’t know what compelled you to explore. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was boredom, but either way, you weren’t going to sit still and wait for Mingi to come back. Truth be told, it just screamed Mingi all over even though there wasn’t much. The apartment had a modern touch to it, little knick-knacks here and there organised neatly, a small table with a crystal decanter full of whiskey, and just about everything that you knew Mingi had meticulously curated himself.

Something that looked out of place, however, was a glass cabinet situated in the corner. It was clean, too clean, not one speck of dust and you can easily tell that this was the only sign of life in this place and that Mingi took very good care of it. You took a closer look and frowned. You were expecting a wine collection, or perhaps luxury items like watches and whatnot, but not these.

Awards, medals, and trophies. Not a lot, but still a significant amount. One in particular was a medal encased in a fancy box, another sat in an acrylic display with nothing else. None of them were engraved, nothing to signify what they were for, not even photographs of Mingi receiving them or dates, but all of them did have a small insignia, but you didn’t recognise what it was.

What you did recognise, though, was the folder that was in the middle of the dining table when you turned around. You bit your lip, glancing down the hallway where Mingi disappeared to. You really shouldn’t, every instinct screamed at you to leave it alone, but you picked it up anyway. The moment you do, that familiar adrenaline rushes back to you. This was the same folder you found in Mingi’s office back then, the one where you almost got caught looking at.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, K.O.S. You swallowed, it was the exact same, only this time, you noticed the same unfamiliar insignia when you opened it. You didn’t get the opportunity to do so back then, but something in you had this need to see what it contained as if your life depended entirely on it. And maybe it did, you were about to find out.

The first page contained a photo of a man. There were categories alongside that split into categories like basic information, aliases and financial records, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. “Charges?” You murmured in confusion, eyes widening when you read further. “What the hell? Mass weapon distribution ring?” You breathed out, a knot forming in your chest. 

You haphazardly turned the pages, not caring if they get wrinkled or not, quickly skimming through everything, unable to stop the trembling of your hands. There were more people, charges more alarming than the last - extortion, cybersecurity threat, political anarchy, and money laundering to name a few - but then it just got worse. The worst ones you saw were drugs and human trafficking, organised crime, and homicide. But all of them had the same thing.

TARGET STATUS: NEUTRALISED

You put your hands to your mouth when you flip to the next page, trying not to puke. It was the man from the trail, the one whose dead eyes still haunted your nightmares sometimes. Witness intimidation and international warrants, it said. Mr. Yamada was there as well. The same lecherous smile, same expensive suit, but this time he had political corruption and sexual exploitation labeled to him. Both of them had the same status - neutralised.

Your vision blurred, knees threatening to buckle as you barely held onto the edge of the table for support. Out of all the things you did and saw, you knew deep inside that this was the thing you should’ve never crossed. None of these made sense at all, and worst of all, why was Mingi in possession of something this detrimental? Your breathing became increasingly uneven, hands trembling so violently that several pages slipped through your fingers at once. 

You instinctively bent down to retrieve them, but before you could reach it, another set of fingers grabbed them first. You paled, gaze slowly climbing upwards to meet Mingi’s eyes. His eyes were unreadable, but you were positive he wasn’t mad. “I-I can explain,” you blurted out anxiously.

He stared at you for a few seconds, finally letting out a sigh before putting his phone back against his ear. “Change of plans, Joong. Stay where you are,” he spoke tiredly, pausing to pinch his nose bridge with his fingers, eyes closed. “The little birdie found the worm all by herself.”

Mingi ended the call. He glanced down at the papers you dropped and one of them in particular had him tense for a second before he calmly placed everything back at the table. His eyes went back to you, waiting for you to say something. “What,” you cleared your throat when your voice cracked. “W-What are these, Mingi?”

His stare was uncomfortable, not because it was loaded since his eyes held no contempt, no accusations, and no anger, but because it felt like he was trying to read you just so he could reply accordingly - something he never really did with you. “You tell me,” Mingi spoke softly, almost thoughtful. “You have talent in snooping and you’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

You swallowed. God, this felt like a test of some sorts. “You’re blackmailing these people,” you blurted out, saying the first thing that popped in your head. “A-And when they don’t give you what you want from them then you…neutralise them.”

Silence. For the first time since you’ve met him, Mingi was actually speechless. Ridiculously so. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes blinking at you multiple times as if he was trying to convince himself he heard wrong. And then, he laughed out loud, the utter disbelief audible from the sound. “You really are something, Y/N,” he chuckled fondly. “Out of all the scenarios you could give, honestly. Well, I suppose that is one way to insult me.”

He walked towards the glass cabinet, pulling out a hidden compartment you didn’t even realise was there. Inside sat more paperwork, multiple passports, some handguns that made you freeze, but he set those aside to grab a small wallet. He picked it up, pursing his lips as if deciding if this was the right thing to do, before holding it out towards you. “Open it,” he urged.

You barely obeyed him. The wallet itself was minimal and elegant, but there was something about it that was heavy. Not because of its weight, but because of what you saw when you unfolded it. “No, t-this can’t be,” you whispered, hands trembling, greatly so. There was an ID, Mingi’s younger face staring at you, eyes less empty but still chilling nonetheless, and there was no mistaking the government seal embossed into the corner along with his information.

Name: Song MingiAge: 30Position: Senior Special Operations AgentLevel: BlackActing Overseer: Park SeonghwaGeneral Supervisor: Kang YeosangOperational Status: ActiveAuthorised to Kill On Sight

A pounding noise filled the apartment and it took you a second to realise that you were hearing your own heartbeat. You dropped the wallet, unable to control the intensity in which your body shook. You shot your eyes at him and his expressionless eyes stared back. “Y-You’re not a serial killer,” you blubbered out in disbelief. “You’re not just some cold-blooded killer who just kills whenever he wants or something?”

Mingi scoffed before he picked the wallet up. “If we’re being technical, I am. Make no mistake,” he explained as he put it back in the compartment, closing it. “But for the most part, no. The government wants these people out. I just so happen to be the best at what I do.”

God, you wanted to slap yourself to wake up from this nightmare. This completely rewrites everything you’ve ever known and believed. You’ve spent the last few months convincing yourself you were trapped beside a serial killer, but was the truth marginally better? You were so out of it that you didn’t hear Mingi sigh before he held your elbows, leading you to the couch and sitting you down. “You kill people for a living,” you stated bluntly.

The corners of his mouth lifted barely into half a smile. “Yes,” he replied, one brow raised in amusement, arms crossed as he looked down at you. “To put it simply, there are people that the government wants gone. The ones that really need to go. These are people that justice will never touch, Y/N. People that range from guilty to national security threats and they’re like ghosts; elusive because they’re aware that people are after them.”

Your mouth dropped. You thought that only happened in fiction. When you didn’t respond, he continued. “When the option of justice disappears, people like me become the option,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “They give me a list,” he pointed at the paperwork on the table. “I make sure that they wish they were never born. Plain and simple.” 

It was insane. Your eyes were being opened to a whole new world out there and that world was literally just sitting right beneath your nose all this time and you barely had any idea. You could barely look at Mingi right now without wanting to break down because how were you supposed to just take this all in? “A-Are there more of you?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Mingi hummed. He tilted his head at you, analysing you. He wasn’t expecting you to ask that, hell, you bet he was expecting you to act erratically. “A handful,” he admitted. “This is as discreet as it gets, there isn’t really a job market for this. The elimination process is…grueling, and obviously, not a lot of people want to do it. You’ve met about half of the entire operation already.”

He smirked when your eyes widened. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong. Different specialties, but same job description, nonetheless,” he explained. A shiver ran up your spine. It made sense, everything made sense - Hongjoong’s attitude towards Mingi and Wooyoung’s nonchalance with Yamada and his reaction at the stairwell that same night. “And you’ve met Yeosang at the gala.”

Your brows knitted. “Good-looking guy, birthmark here,” he pointed at his left temple. And that’s when it hit. That unsettling man who talked to Mingi, how could you forget? You nodded slowly. “He’s the Big Boss’ son. He actually trained me,” he huffed, a small flicker of respect reflecting his features. “Only one of two who are above me by rank. Besides his father, obviously.”

Somehow, that made plenty of sense. You remembered the way Mingi unconsciously straightened when Yeosang approached, the absolute lack of his usual bravado, and the effortless authority Yeosang seemed to carry that felt much heavier than Mingi’s. “And Seonghwa?” You asked. “Yunho? Where do they both fit here?”

Mingi laughed, shaking his head. “Yunho’s innocent, just a regular worker. We still need to keep a legitimate front to keep the operation behind wraps. Seonghwa, on the other hand, he’s a bit…” he trailed off, trying to find the right word. “...different. He used to do what I do.”

The amusement faded from his face before he continued. “He’s been doing this since he was eighteen and he’d already done more than enough. He was tired, but retirement doesn’t really exist in this line of work. Truth was, Big Boss didn’t want to let him go. It would be foolish to let go of the man who perfected this system after all. So, he offered him a compromise.”

It wasn’t that difficult to believe. You watched Seonghwa hold the knife that night. Turns out, the most dangerous man was the one you trusted the most. “The compromise,” you murmured, swallowing heavily. “Was it KQ?”

“Smart girl,” Mingi smirked. “See, for this to work, we needed discretion. We can’t just eliminate them out of the blue and for no reason. People would ask questions, and that’s the last thing we wanted. Unfortunately, these bastards aren't dumb, so it’s extremely difficult to isolate them and make their deaths believable. However, all of them do have one thing in common.”

Your mouth had gone dry, but you found yourself leaning slightly forward to anticipate the answer anyway. “Greed,” Mingi said. “Money and investing makes it easy to lure them out. All we have to do is make it look like a transaction gone awry. Seonghwa gets the life he wants and we get access to the people we need. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“So, in essence, KQ is a real company that runs on legitimate business that also happens to be an intelligence network where Seonghwa still runs things behind the scenes without being in the actual field. Did I get that right?” You asked. When Mingi nodded, you laughed in disbelief. “No wonder you didn’t care if I went to the police or not. I would’ve looked like a massive idiot.”

Silence settled over the apartment. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel because everything just makes perfect sense. In your eyes, he was still a psychopath. The only distinction was that he was the government’s psychopath. “Everything you did was legal,” you sighed in defeat. “Why didn’t you say so? Why let me believe otherwise?”

Mingi raised a brow, amusement curling his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he shrugged.

Admittedly, you didn’t think your question through and it was a stupid one in hindsight. Also, you were never going to get a straight answer from Mingi anyway, at least, nothing that pleased you, but seeing how nonchalant he was still shot anger through you. “Are you being for real?”

Mingi crossed his arms, a deadpanned look in his eyes. “Says you. You were the one playing blind like it was going to work in the first place,” he pointed out, dry and flat. He turns around - which was a good thing so he couldn't see how red you were from rage and shame. You watched him grab only one paper from the folder before he walked back, this time, sitting across you.

Without a word, he slides the paper from across the table. You stared at him for a second before your fingers pulled it towards you. You expected to see another random face in there, but when you saw a blank piece of paper with only your face in it, you almost dropped it, heart falling down to your foot. 

“Relax, sweet pea, it’s not what you think it is,” he immediately said the moment he saw your panicked face. “The system can’t eliminate you simply because you were never a criminal to begin with, much less witness one happen right before your very eyes.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You saw it,” Mingi stated plainly. He pointed at the paper in your hands. “That makes you a witness to an ongoing operation and a walking liability to something that was never meant for the public eye. I’m not going to lie to you, you caused quite the divide with the team back then for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

That caught your attention. “I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You said it yourself. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t mean any harm, I could have kept my mouth shut.”

Mingi smirked, shaking his head cynically. “People die because of what could have and should have. Don’t make me laugh here,” he scoffed. “At the end of the day, I am nothing but an agent no matter how high my rank is and I still had to answer to someone. That meant I had to tell Seonghwa. And Seonghwa had to tell Yeosang. And we do have protocols for this.”

“Yeosang was angry, obviously. He wanted to enact protocol immediately, hence that paper in your hand,” he continued. You swallowed audibly at that. “I happen to fancy you a little too much to let that happen, so I hired you. Having you work for me ensured that you didn’t blab to the wrong people. Plus, it wasn’t like you weren’t dying to work for me, anyway. No pun intended.”

“God, Mingi, you are such a massive asshole, I swear to God,” you scoffed. The way he talked about it rubbed you off the wrong way, though admittedly, you could see where he was coming from. “So, what? Am I supposed to thank you? My life is in shambles now, no thanks to you.”

“Yes, actually, you should,” he raised a brow, unimpressed. “Because lucky for you, Seonghwa took a genuine liking to you so it wasn’t difficult for me to disobey protocol and keep you and convince Yeosang to not tell his father about you, because trust me, you would not like that.”

You stayed silent, not really wanting to know what he meant by that. “Paper’s blank, love. I didn’t go through with it. I had no reason to and I still don’t. Even if they threatened me, I still won’t. You were innocent and I was aware of that. I’m not the animal you think I am, Y/N, and I don’t gain anything from killing civilians.”

Your fingers curled around the paper until it crumpled slightly. It wasn't compassion nor was it mercy. To Mingi, your life had been spared for the same reason someone chose not to swat a fly that landed on them. It wasn’t because it deserved to live, but because it simply wasn't worth the inconvenience. You didn’t know what to feel about that.

You got up, marching towards the dining table to hastily grab the folder before smacking it across the coffee table in front of Mingi, fuming with the repressed anger that had been building for months. “There were a hundred different ways this could’ve been handled. My entire career is a fucking lie,” you seethed. “There was no need for me to be dragged to KQ like some sort of luggage for something I didn’t even mean to see.”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I understand you’re angry, love, but I don’t regret what I did,” he said, gaze settling on you, unwavering. “Big Boss and the other directors aren’t exactly known for being kind, Y/N. If they find out, you would’ve been a goner. Personally, you know I find absolutely no problem in hurting you. However…”

“...that had been with my own hands,” he continued. “I didn’t want them to hurt you. That’s an entirely different beast, and you would never be the same afterwards. You don’t have to like it. But the fact of the matter is that you were there that day. And unfortunately, we have protocol for it. Protocols that are written in blood, both by the bad and the innocent, and they are the reason why order exists on things that aren’t supposed to happen, do you understand that?”

You turned around, ready to walk away, when he grabbed your arm to spin you around, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” he hissed. “I need you to understand that I did what I did to stop them from taking you from me, Y/N. I didn’t want your blood on my hands.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Mingi had spent way too long being angry over him making a fool out of you and you weren’t about to let him do it again. And even then, it wasn’t specifically because he cared for you. “I would rather hurt you once if it means protecting you forever,” he sighed heavily, letting your arm go. “Not one ‘thank you’ from that pretty mouth of yours.” 

That last thread of patience snapped. “Protection isn’t impressive when you’re the reason I needed protection in the first place,” you spat venomously, trying to pry his hand off of you. And there was still something that bothered you more than anything else. “And what about me?” You asked, afraid of the answer, but had to ask anyway. “Where exactly do I fit in in all of this?”

He knew you were at the warehouse that night and he knows that you know that he never needed a translator. Something completely shifted in Mingi’s eyes. That detached indifference dissolved into something more unnerving.  His pupils seemed darker somehow, fixed entirely on you with an intensity that bordered on reverence and possession all at once. It wasn’t lust or desire, not entirely, but it was something much worse that made you freeze.

Fixation and obsession. His hand rose, knuckles brushing your cheek, fingers disappearing behind your neck to cradle it. “Nothing,” he whispered, fingers spreading possessively across your neck, a faint smile tugging at his lips when you squirmed. “But everything at the same time. You and my profession are two separate things. You are my greatest professional failure, love.”

He tilted your face upward, forcing your eyes back to his. “At least that’s how it all started,” he spoke, his expression flattening. “You were my responsibility for the longest time. And I absolutely detested you for being on that trail because no matter what you did, everything would have come back to me. Who do you think they’d kill after they finished you?” 

That sent shivers up your spine. “Keeping you long enough to kill you, myself, if I see you fuck up was my only reprieve,” he chuckled. “But the longer I watched you, the more I found myself just keeping you for the shits and giggles. You are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever come across and I don’t ever want to let that go. The thought of it, alone, is enough to make me very angry.”

His eyes held yours with unnerving certainty, hand tightening around the back of your neck. “You represented the ruin of my art. You saw what I did that day, and yet, you’re still here. Alive…something you’re not supposed to be. So, yeah, I’m keeping you. Whether you like it or not. After that trail, you became mine. Trying to escape won’t do you good, I guarantee you.”

You were horrified. Mingi was completely obsessed with you, and he was never going to let you go. He was never going to apologise for playing with you and it wasn’t because he wasn’t capable of remorse, but because in his eyes, remorse is reserved for mistakes. This was no mistake to him; it was a calculated risk. He had absolute control the entire time and that realisation was more unsettling. You had no idea how you got here from where this all started.

“You are absolutely insane. You can’t just objectify me like this just because you want to, you prick,” you snapped, wrenching your head away from his grasp, taking a few steps backwards. “I’m human, Mingi, I have aspirations and things I wanna do and achieve. I want to be loved—”

“And I will give you those,” Mingi bargained. “Isn’t this as close to love as you’re going to get? You’ll have everything you want and more. I’ll give you everything and I can even learn to love you the way you like it. Being mine won’t be too different from the life you had before—” 

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” you cried out, thoroughly done with him. “I don’t need you. I don’t want to be with you, don’t you get it? I already have people who love me who won’t hurt me or force me into situations I don’t want to be in. I don’t need your fucked up version of love when I already have friends who genuinely care for me waiting for me to come home to them.”

Silence. For the longest time, all you could hear was your own heartbeat. Mingi stared at you, eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. His eyes hollowed out, fixed on nothing and everything at once, before his lips twitched into something cynical. And then, he started laughing. At first, it sounded normal, but when the deranged vacancy in his laughter started to fill the entire apartment, that’s when it truly hit you - Mingi was a madman.

“I don’t know about that, love,” he said, tone almost insulting in its indifference despite the loud, bellowing laugh he let out earlier. “None of these so-called ‘friends’ of yours have called you within the last few hours you’ve been with me starting from when we fucked on your bed earlier. You might want to rethink that statement of yours before I make you. ”

You froze. Every word chipped away at the illusion you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging to, because he was right, and the way he started stalking towards you slows means he knew it, too. “W-What did you do to them?” You stammered, terrified out of your wits as you stepped back, only to be stopped when your feet hit the couch. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm all over your waist to pull you close. “They’re safe. Hongjoong is there as we speak and by now, he’s probably briefed them. Choi Jongho will be put into a witness protection programme. Since Yeosang and I go way back, he did me a favour and put him there. We just had to tweak it a little since the board cannot know he’s related to your case. He will not get hurt, and he will be put in a safer place, that I can guarantee.”

“But can I just go to that same programme?”

Mingi shook his head. “What makes his case doable is simply because he overheard something he wasn’t supposed to. I knew he was with you that night when me and Wooyoung were arguing by the staircase. Yes, you were both nosy, but still very much innocent and are civilians.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the guilt riding on your back lifting at the fact that at least, Jongho was going to be alright. It’s been eating at you that you dragged him into this. “How do I know that you’re not lying?” You asked, suspicious.

He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You have my word,” he said. “Which probably doesn’t mean much. Hongjoong will call in a little to update me and you can ask him,  yourself, then. I knew you were quite fond of my temporary assistant as he was of you.”

Relief hit you so suddenly your knees nearly gave out. For the first time in months, you weren’t thinking about surviving. “So this is it then,” you murmured, putting distance between you two. “You have no reason to keep me here. You’ve let me live alone on my own for months when I was working with you and you can just watch me from afar. Nothing changes so I’m leaving.”

Mingi didn't answer for a while. Then, the corners of his mouth lifted into the smallest smile. Without waiting for him to say something, you started to walk away. You meant it, you were going home. You refuse to play into Mingi’s cards no more, refuse to let him fiddle with you—

“I only mentioned one friend, sweetheart. I reckon you have two you were looking out for.”

The coldest bucket of water could’ve been poured on you on the spot but it wouldn’t beat the glacial fear that ran from your spine all the way to your toes. San. You had to mechanically turn yourself around, your frigid body locking in on itself as you forced yourself to look at him. There was pity in his eyes, but the mocking and contempt in them was difficult to ignore.

“He’s a tricky case, you know?” Mingi chuckled. “He’s a witness by association. He never witnessed anything and was never in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only misfortune he has is being that one sponge who absorbs every information without meaning to. Out of you three, he’s the most extreme liability. You and Jongho both work in KQ. We don’t know anything about Choi San except that he’s connected to you. Do you know what that means, love?”

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You thought you knew fear when you tried to outsmart Mingi on that trail, when you’ve witnessed multiple murders, or when you’ve been this close to being caught many times, but apparently, this was it. “It means,” Mingi whispered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “He’s in limbo. Can’t be in the programme because he didn’t do enough but he also can’t be left alone because Big Boss is very particular about civilians knowing sensitive info.”

“No,” you breathed out, having to steady yourself to the nearest table. Genuine emotion cracked through your composure, and terror flooded every inch of you so violently it burned because this was San. “You,” you let out, voice shaking, lifting an equally trembling finger to point derisively at Mingi. “You stay the fuck away from him, you hear me?”

He was the person who never left; the one person who packed his life into two suitcases because you asked. "You ruined my life," you cried out, voice loud enough to carry to the next generation. "You dragged me into this. You manipulated me and lied to me for months for your sick satisfaction, and now you're telling me my best friend has to pay for your mistakes?" 

He smiled. It was small, but somehow, it looked more dangerous than all of the smirks he’s ever shown you. He had the upper hand and he reveled in it. But he didn’t bother replying; didn’t really need to. The way you unraveled in front of him was more than enough. “What do you want, Mingi?” You asked through gritted teeth. “Just…tell me what you want.”

The question came out more defeated than you’d like. You were tired of this back and forth and knowing him, there was already an answer waiting at the tip of his tongue just itching to be said. Mingi studied your face for several seconds before answering. “Surrender yourself to me.”

You felt sick. “I’ll make sure Big Boss doesn’t even get a whiff of Choi San’s scent,” he continued. “I’ll assume personal responsibility for him and make sure he gets to be in the same programme as your other friend. He will matter simply because he matters to me. And because he matters to me,” he tilted his head, smirking. “Nobody touches him. As long as you’re with me, that is.” 

Your eyes widened at the insinuation. He was basically asking you to sell his soul to him in exchange for San’s safety and he was bargaining it like it was some sort of contractual paperwork. “You’re blackmailing me,” you stated flatly. “You’re a monster, Mingi.”

He shrugged carelessly as though none of this mattered to him. “Call it what you will,” he said. "I call it the only arrangement where everyone you love walks away breathing."

Your knees finally gave out and you collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, your back sliding against it comically slow, squeezing your eyes shut. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, but you were just so exhausted. There was no point because this wasn’t survival anymore. Your consent had long been gone. “Fine,” was all you said even though you shattered on the inside.

Mingi exhaled, but not because he was pleased. It was because he was getting impatient, because to him, your answer should’ve been immediate. He wasn’t entirely pleased because he was already expecting it even though it took you a while. “Good,” he uttered, stepping closer, and for a second he thought he was going to corner you physically just because he could.

But then, he went straight, bending to grab the folder you haphazardly smacked against the table in anger earlier before squatting down eye level with you. “Sign it,” he muttered, jutting said folder towards you. “You’re my little spitfire and that’s what I like about you, but I don’t trust you. I need a guarantee you won’t run. This was what you were bound to do eventually anyway.”

You scowled bitterly at him. As if this piece of paper could stop you from simply running away anyway. You were about to reach and grab the folder, but you paused at the last second. His last statement. That went over your head for a second there. “Hold on,” you frowned. “What the hell do you mean? I’m pretty sure the government has nothing to do with your obsession with me.”

He let out a breathy chuckle that would’ve otherwise been innocent in any other situation. “No, not entirely. It’s just purely for assurance because I realised something rather inconvenient,” he said, thumb brushing lazily over the edge of the folder. “You are going to leave me eventually,” he paused to look you dead in the eye. “So I gave you something you couldn’t walk away from.”

You stared at him, confused. When Mingi saw that you were genuinely clueless, his brows raised, stunned in silence for a few seconds. “You’ve always been very bright, love,” he began, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You fought the urge to shirk away from the infantalising gesture. “But every now and then, you do disappoint me. ”

A chill crawled up your spine. Something tells you that whatever this was will change everything. You just didn’t know or understand how. “Remember this?” He lifted the folder up with a smirk. Your heartbeat pounded painfully against your ribs, not knowing where he was going with this. His fingers tapped once against the folder. “This was just files to you. Now, we have a problem.”

He opened it again, flipping each of the pages you’ve already seen yourself earlier, and he kept flipping until he got to the very last page of the entire dossier, raising it for you to see. A red classification stamp stretched across the whole page, but that wasn’t the part that made your stomach drop to your foot.

GOVERNMENT INTELLIGENCELEVEL BLACK FILESUNAUTHORISED ACCESS STRICTLY PROHIBITEDMUST REPORT IF UNCLEARED

“I…I-I don’t understand,” you blurted out, taking the folder in your hands to read it over and over again, because deep inside, you wanted to deny the facts that were slowly forming into a whole picture in your head. 

Mingi watched your face carefully. “Before today, you were merely a civilian who accidentally witnessed an operation,” he began, that sinister look in his eyes darkening the more he spoke. “And that’s fine. You can’t be punished for something you didn’t do wittingly. But now…”

He leaned, his lips a couple of inches away from your ears. “You’ve knowingly accessed confidential government dossiers, operational identities, assets, agent procedures, and most damning of them all, the criminal’s identities. These are things that must remain in secrecy within. You could have had at least some semblance to your old life.”

You wanted to throw up, the realisation settling into your stomach with sickening clarity and heaviness. He leaned away, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “I really do have to keep you now, love,” he chuckled. “I really, really do.”

Your eyes burned with the sudden onslaught of tears, but you refused to let them fall. You hated that he could read your fear so effortlessly. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt useless beneath you. “That's not fair,” you tried to reason. “I didn't know I couldn't look. It’s my damn fault you dragged me here.”

“Unfortunately, ignorance of the law excuses no one,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“It's your word against mine,” you shot back. “Nobody’s going to know I looked at it.”

Mingi smirked, turning and tilting his head to look up and when you followed his line of sight, you were met with the sight of a small camera in the corner of the room. Of course, you thought bitterly. The walls seemed to close in on you. You clutched your chest, willing for that claustrophobic pain to go away. All you wanted was to have your old life back, and somehow, even that option had been taken away from you.

Amidst all of that, something inside you snapped. Mingi was a very meticulous person. Obsessively so. Even looking around his apartment right now, it was easy to tell how neat and orderly he was, and somehow, a folder that important had been left out carelessly. “You did this on purpose,” you blurted out, breathing turning ragged. 

Mingi’s brows lifted, eyes snapping at you with renewed interest. He didn’t answer, and somehow, that was ironically all the answer you needed. You stood up, something hot and violent surging through you. “You left that folder out on purpose,” you seethed, jabbing your finger to his chest to emphasise every word. “You fucking psychopath, I’m going to—”

Mingi held both your hands to restrain you, mouth stretching into a smile so delighted that it bordered on erratic. “I did,” he admitted, eyes shining not with fear that he’d been found out, but with unbridled excitement. “But I didn’t tell you to look, did I? It was there, yes, but you…” He laughed quietly at first, but your ashen face fell when it got louder. There was something horribly wrong with it. “Oh, baby doll,” he broke off, laughing under his breath. “You can’t blame me for everything. I distinctly remember telling you to make yourself at home, I didn’t force you to look through the folder. But you want to know what I did know?”

His expression changed, not entirely because the ecstatic smile remained, but his eyes had gone colder. “I knew you’d snoop,” he said without any ounce of shame or apology. “I know you. And I know you wanted answers, so I gave you the opportunity to find them. You should be thanking me, honestly, and it’s not my fault you have no self-control.”

Your lips parted, breathing becoming uneven. That would explain why he wasn’t surprised or angry when he saw you looking through the files - he was waiting for the moment that you did. The room spun, nausea threatening to send you into a massive black out. The moment you opened that folder, you had already lost. “You manipulated me,” you said, voice cracking midway.

“No,” he corrected as though he’d rehearsed this conversation long before you’d ever walked into his apartment. “I guided you. You made the choice. I just simply knew which one you’d make.”

Fury-fueled adrenaline coursed through you and broke free from his grasp, shoving both hands against his chest. The impact made him take a step backward. “You son of a bitch,” you screamed. “You planned this, you fucking knew I’ve been trying to disassociate myself from all of this. How can you do this to me?”

You shoved him again, harder this time. Your palms stung and your throat burned, but you barely felt any of it. Mingi barely moved, and somehow, that just made you angrier. “You sick, manipulative bastard,” you cried, tears falling from your eyes but you didn’t care anymore. “You couldn’t just let me go, could you?”

Your hands trembled as you struck him over and over again, each blow fueled by months of fear, humiliation, anger, and helplessness finally finding somewhere to go. For once, you weren’t scared of what your anger might do. You were too furious to care. And throughout this, Mingi may have looked unbothered, but his eyes, they held a reverent satisfaction as though this - your rage, hatred, and defiance - was exactly what he’d been waiting to see.

When your fists fell limp against his chest, his arms came around you. The embrace was unbearably gentle compared to everything he’d done to you. “Relax,” he murmured, hand moving through your hair so soothing that it almost felt insulting. “It can’t be that bad to belong to me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need and protect you from now on.”

Mingi leaned back, thumb brushing beneath your eye to wipe away your tears. You stared at him, devastated by how easily he could turn captivity into something that sounded like security. “You don't get to call this protection,” you muttered bitterly. “I didn’t choose whatever the fuck this is.”

Something unreadable passed through his eyes. “Not everything good in your life has to begin with a choice,” he said. His words made your stomach twist. He released you to take a pen, put it in your hand along with the open folder. “Sign it, love. Don’t make this any harder for us both.”

You stared at the blank line for several seconds, wanting to fight him off, but you were exhausted. There was no point in escaping when the cage had no door. It took less than a second to sign your name, each stroke feeling like shackles tightening around your neck. When you finished, Mingi took one look at the signed paper before giving you a light kiss on your forehead. 

“You should get some rest. I reckon this took a lot out of you,” he spoke, leading your tired body to sit back on the couch, even going as far as to put a pillow behind your back. “I’ll order us food in a bit and then I’ll instruct people to get the rest of your stuff from your apartment. I want you completely moved in and settled within the week.” 

You looked away, not bothering to reply because you knew better. And so did he. As he was in the process of getting your luggage you completely forgot about, his phone rang. It was Hongjoong. “Go ahead,” Mingi coaxed. “You might want to hear what he has to say. You wanted to ensure your friends’ safety, yes?”

And with that thought in mind, you immediately answered. Hongjoong’s brows raised slightly, mouth parting in mild surprise when he saw your displeased face on the video. “Well, uh, this is a pleasant surprise,” he chuckled nervously. “I’m glad to see you, Y/N, I really am, but I need to speak to Mingi. Is he there, by any chance?”

“Cut the bullshit, Hongjoong. I know everything,” you deadpanned. In the corner of your eye, you saw Mingi smirk at your straightforwardness. “Put San and Jongho on the phone before I do something drastic, please. I need to see that they’re okay.”

And they were. In fact, they seemed to be doing a little too well. You couldn’t help but feel relief as you talked to San, who was no less than shocked at the turn of events while Jongho and Hongjoong were eating and laughing in the background like they’ve been longtime buddies. It was difficult to stay mad at Hongjoong seeing as he did at least try his best to remedy the lies he’s built up and gave your friends the safest place they could go after all of this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am,” Hongjoong apologised with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair in defeat. “You didn’t deserve any of this. None of you did. After I settle things here, I’m going to try my best to see what I can do for you, alright? I’ll try to talk to Seonghwa about it.”

You scoffed bitterly. “What else is there left to do? I’m stuck here with Mingi after he made me sign that goddamn paper. And while I appreciate your apology, I’m here to ask about San’s situation. Best case scenario, I want him to be at least with Jongho, but if not, I just want to make sure he’ll be put in the safest place, at least.”

Hongjoong didn’t speak for a moment, blinking multiple times at you as if he was making sure he was hearing you correctly. His brows furrowed as genuine confusion flickered on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked, a clear hesitation coating his voice. In the background, you saw Mingi pause at what he was doing. “And what do you mean Mingi made you sign something?”

The way he asked that last part made you narrow your eyes, your mind numbing out as your blood ran cold. You told him everything - from Mingi telling you that everybody was actually government agents, your role and why Mingi had to make you his translator, the dossier, the witness protection programme , all the way to San’s state of limbo. Hongjoong stared at you, and for a second, his composure faltered. It wasn’t the usual controlled concern you were used to seeing on him. “Mingi told you San was in limbo?” He asked, genuine shock on his face.

You nodded and his eyes widened, muttering a quiet curse under his breath that made your stomach swoop. “Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said slowly, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “He was in limbo, that much was true. But that’s why I’m here - to work it out. Mingi sent me here to clear San. As of now, he’s in the same programme as Jongho.”

You snapped your head towards Mingi. He paused from dragging your luggage in to stare back at you. He was smiling. It wasn’t that smug, triumphant smile he always wore. It was just a tiny, knowing curve. Horror spread through you as you realised something - that Mingi technically never lied. He did tell you San was in limbo and that he’d keep him safe. He just never said when and how. You had just assumed he’d do it after, not that he’s already done it beforehand.

Your eyes burned. At this point, you didn’t know if you were the dumb one for falling for his manipulation over and over again or if he’s that good. You turned back to Hongjoong in panic. “He used San against me,” you blurted out. You told him about you looking through the criminal target files and Mingi pretty much blackmailing you into signing it using the cameras.

This was actually what made Hongjoong reel back in horror. “Did you sign it?” He asked, sheer panic clouding his features. You were rendered speechless, not knowing what to say, but you nodded anyway. “Song Mingi, you made her sign a binding contract? You son of a bitch. I’m going to shoot you myself when I’m done here, I swear to God—”

“It’s not my fault that she keeps falling for it, Joong,” Mingi spoke nonchalantly, not even bothering to pause this time as he hauled your luggage into a random room, a gleam in his eyes. “And you make it sound so bad. I already said I’ll take good care of her and you know I meant it.”

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Hongjoong dropped another bombshell, looking so helpless you almost felt bad for him. “And about those cameras,” he winced, clearly wanting to be anywhere but be the bearer of bad news. “They’re broken. I called to tell Mingi that I had the replacement units. I was about to drop by after I was done here.”

You closed your eyes, a long sigh heaving out from your lungs. It really was the gift that keeps on giving. “Word of advice, Y/N?” Hongjoong quietly spoke. “A leopard can’t change its spots. Even if you manage to beat him and make him leave, he’ll be back with a stick next time. Beat him with a stick he’ll be back with a gun and if you beat him with a gun you better make sure he’s dead because Mingi won’t stop. May we never go to hell, but always be on our way. Good luck.”

You sank back into the couch, staring at nothing. Mingi didn’t need to blackmail you anything - he simply needed to make you believe he would. You had done the rest yourself. You had let your emotions get the best of you and Mingi used this to his advantage. The realisation hollowed you out because how could you be so stupid?

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t. There wasn’t much left in you anymore because you let Mingi lock the door you willingly went into. You crossed your arms petulantly, glaring daggers at Mingi because at this point, there was nothing else left to do. It was over. 

Mingi, unfortunately, seemed extremely delighted, looking too entirely pleased with himself. “For what it’s worth, you took it very well, love. You looked very convincing when you signed.”

Your glare intensified, rolling your eyes and sinking further into the couch, not willing to even talk to him anymore. You let your eyes do the talking - that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even be in this situation. You set your eyes on the folder that had your signature, hoping that it would burn to ashes. with how hard you were glaring at it.

“What?” He asked innocently, a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes. “You never asked.”

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You remember the way he’d winced as you cleaned the wound, his fingers gripping the edge of your desk. The mask lay crumpled on your floor like a dead animal, and you couldn’t stop staring at it, then at him, then back at the mask.

“So you’re telling me,” you’d said slowly, dabbing antiseptic on his arm with shaking hands, “that you’ve been swinging around New York in that tight little spandex number for the past three months?”

“It’s not spandex—it’s a special polymer—” he’d started, then caught your expression. “Okay, yes. It is spandex.”

The laugh that escaped you was half-hysterical. “And the ‘amazing’ part? The ‘friendly neighbourhood’ part?”

Yunho had looked at you with those big, earnest eyes that had been breaking hearts since middle school. “For the record, I did not come up with those names. They describe me pretty well, no?”

You’d bandaged his arm in silence after that, the TV still blaring in the background, some contestant crying dramatically over a burned soufflé while your entire understanding of reality shifted.

Your best friend was a goddamn superhero.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he’d winced when you’d finished wrapping the gauze. “Not your parents, not—”

“I know how secrets work, you dummy,” you teased, but your hands were gentle as you helped him into your desk chair. “I just... Why me? Why tonight?”

He’d looked down at his hands, blood still under his fingernails. “Because I nearly died tonight, and the only person I wanted to see was you.”

Your heart had done something complicated—something you’d been ignoring since that time he’d carried you piggyback through the rain because you’d worn the wrong shoes. Something you’d been pretending was just friendship for years.

“Okay, So what now?” you’d asked, sitting on your bed across from him.

Yunho had looked up, that familiar grin breaking through despite everything. “Now you become my guy in the chair.”

“Your what?”

“My guy—or in this case my girl—in the chair! You know, the person who helps from headquarters? Tells me where the bad guys are? Makes terrible jokes over the comms?” My girl landed somewhere it shouldn’t have, warm and unwelcome, before you registered that he’d said it the same way he said my homework or my lucky socks. You’d thrown a pillow at him, which he’d caught easily because of fucking course he had. “I’m not becoming your sidekick, Yunho.”

“Not a sidekick! More like... a partner in crime-fighting?” His eyes had lit up. “We could be a team! Like Iron Man and War Machine!”

“War Machine is literally the definition of a sidekick.”

“Okay, fine. Like... like uh Black Widow and Hawkeye!”

“Those are two different heroes who occasionally work together.”

Yunho had sighed dramatically, clutching his injured arm. “You’re being very difficult for someone who’s just been told their best friend is technically a superhero.”

“Fine,” you’d huffed, crossing your arms. “But I’m not calling myself anything embarrassing.”

His grin had been blinding. “Deal. But you have to at least help me come up with banger one-liners.”

══════════════════ 

Since that night, you became an expert at hiding things. You’d become a practiced liar. Obviously not to keep secrets from your best friend, but to keep his from the world. You’d learned to forge sick notes for his absences at work, to block calls from concerned managers when he vanished for days, to intercept the panicked messages from his aunt who was kept in the dark about all of this too. You kept a first aid kit under your bed, truthfully, you had bandages and gauze scattered throughout your apartment because of a certain somebody. You patched him up at least twice a week, maybe more. Sometimes with nothing more than aspirin and bandages, sometimes with trembling hands and whatever illicit painkillers you could barter from the night pharmacist.

At times, you wonder if he would purposefully get injured just as an excuse to come see you. Naturally, you set your wishful thinking aside, although you did feel some type of way seeing him scream and moan into your pillow when the antiseptic made contact with his open wound. Not even the FBI could get that information out of you—hopefully.

Then there was the pretending. Pretending not to notice the new bruises, the way he sometimes winced just from raising his arm to wave at you from across the street, the way he’d flinch every time sirens from downtown would go off. You’d become immune to the news reports: masked hero saves child from burning building, anonymous hero stops carjacking on Main. You’d scroll through the headlines with said hero asleep on your shoulder, trying to reconcile the two sides of him. The invulnerable icon that the world sees and the one you have the privilege of seeing almost daily, the boy who snored and always had his arm wrapped around your waist as you cuddled on the couch. Platonically, of course.

You’d always been the only one who knew. You’d never told a soul. Not even when you’d had to lie to your own mother’s face about why Yunho had to suddenly leave her birthday dinner, not even when you’d covered for him at his own surprise party by saying he had food poisoning, all while the TV in the corner was showing live helicopter footage of a chase downtown with streaks of red and blue going across the screen. You’d kept his secret for three years, and you’d never once wished for a normal life.

Not until tonight.

The city felt off, like someone had turned down the volume and dimmed all the lights. You’d spent most of the evening pacing the edges of your apartment, the kind of nervous energy that made your skin feel two sizes too small. Outside, the sirens were rare and far away, and every time the silence stretched too long you found yourself jumping at the smallest noise: the radiator knocking, the distant barking of a stray dog, the faint hum of the elevator in the hallway. You kept checking your phone, again and again, desperate to see if Yunho gave you any updates.

He’d called just after sunset, voice tight and urgent in a way that made your stomach twist. “Something’s up. They think one of the mutants that was in Detective De Wolff’s care escaped.”

You’d tried to protest, tried to remind him about the time he’d gone toe-to-toe with a “big threat” and ended up with an injury so severe that it made your med kit look like child’s play—sending him away to the nearest hospital to get proper medical care. That scared you more than you’d ever admit, but he’d just laughed it off, soft and gentle like he didn’t want to worry you.

“I promise I’ll be okay, bug. I’ll let you know when I’ve kicked their ass.”

That was 5 hours ago, and there was still no text. You sat on the edge of your bed, phone clenched so hard your knuckles ached, scrolling back and forth through his messages as if somehow, if you looked long enough, he’d reveal himself from the pixels on the screen. You tried to distract yourself the way you always did: catching up on missed emails, watering your already well hydrated plants, rewatching old anime episodes that you’d seen a thousand times. Nothing worked. You replayed every message he’d ever sent, even the stupid ones you scoffed at. That time he’d texted you eight times in a row to ask if pickles were technically fruits, the time he’d sent a selfie in the middle of a chase just to prove he wasn’t lying about being “airborne,” the time he’d admitted he started carrying a spare mask just because you told him the first one made his ears stick out too much. You wondered if these would be the last messages you’d ever get from him.

You tried to picture the fight, imagine him swinging between buildings with that impossible grace, dodging bullets and explosions and whatever else the city threw at him. You imagined him grinning beneath the mask, sticking the landing, making it look so easy. But then you remembered the other times when he’d come home with blood on his suit, with ribs barely holding together, with tears in his eyes. You remembered the way he’d clung to you, quietly, brokenly, just needing someone to tell him he was still a person and not just a symbol of hope and justice.

Midnight came and went. You tried to sleep, but every time you closed your eyes you saw him lying somewhere in some alley, hurt and alone. You gave up on sleep by 1:30, and by 2:00 you’d started pacing again, so wound up you thought your heart might shake itself right out of your ribs. And then you heard it, faint but unmistakable—the wet, sticky thwiiip of web fluid, just outside your window. You dropped your phone. Bolted to the window, hands shaking, and flung it open. There he was. Yunho, his mask dangling from his fingers, suit torn and bloodied, face streaked with sweat and something darker. He grinned, lopsided and exhausted, and you saw the relief in his eyes.

“You’re not going to believe the night I just had,” he murmured, and nearly toppled headfirst into your arms.

You caught him, barely, your knees buckling under the sudden weight of him as he half-collapsed against you. His body was hot through the torn suit, radiating heat like a furnace, and you could feel his heart hammering against your chest—too fast, too hard. You stumbled backward, dragging him with you, and managed to lower him onto the edge of your bed before your legs gave out entirely.

“Yunho—Hey, look at me.” Your hands were already moving, already doing the thing they’d been trained to do over three years of this. You cupped his face, tilting it toward the light, scanning for anything obvious, maybe a broken nose, split lip, the telltale glassy look of a concussion. His pupils were blown wide, dark and unfocused, and there was blood crusted along his hairline, but it looked like it had already stopped bleeding. You pulled your hands away, and they came back tacky with something that wasn’t blood—something iridescent and faintly pink, clinging to your fingertips like oil.

“Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?” Your voice came out sharper than you meant it to, the panic you’d been swallowing all night finally cracking through. You ran your palms down his arms, checking for fractures, for the signs of swelling that meant something was broken beneath the suit. His left shoulder was torn open, the suit shredded to ribbons, but the skin underneath was already knitting itself back together thanks to the accelerated healing you’d watched with horrified fascination so many times before. You pushed the fabric aside and saw the angry pink of new tissue forming, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“Talk to me, Yunho.”

He caught your wrist, his grip warm and unsteady. “I’m—I’m okay. I’m not hurt. Not like that.”

The words landed wrong, and you felt something cold settle in your stomach. You pulled back, sitting on your heels in front of him, and searched his face. His jaw was clenched tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and there was a flush creeping up his neck that had nothing to do with exertion. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven bursts, and when he swallowed, you watched his Adam’s apple bob painfully.

“Not like what?” you pressed, your voice dropping to something quieter. “What does that mean?”

He let out a shaky laugh, the kind that had no humour in it. “The mutant. It was some kind of—I don’t even know what to call it. Reptile? Lizard-thing? It had scales and claws and a tail, and it was fast, bug, faster than anything I’ve ever—” He broke off, dragging a hand down his face. “We were fighting on the old construction site off Fifth, the one that’s been abandoned since—doesn’t matter. I had him pinned. I thought I had him. And then right at the end, right when I thought it was over, he—” Yunho’s voice cracked, and he pressed the heel of his palm against his eye. “He released something. Some kind of gas. It was pink.”

You stared at him. “Pink gas?”

“Pink. Gas.” He dropped his hand and looked at you, and there was something raw and almost embarrassed in his expression that you’d never seen before. “I got a faceful of it. Couldn’t avoid it. And now I feel—” He gestured vaguely at his own body, a helpless, floundering motion. “Funny. I feel funny.”

“Funny how?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the floor, and you watched his throat work as he swallowed again, harder this time. The flush had spread to his ears now, bright and unmistakable, and you realised his hands were trembling where they rested on his knees. You let your eyes travel down, following the path of instinct, the same clinical assessment you’d done a hundred times. Your gaze snagged on something and your brain stuttered to a halt.

The suit was tight. You’d always known it was tight. You’d teased him about it mercilessly, called it his “second skin,” joked that whoever designed it had a vendetta against modesty. But the fabric between his thighs was stretched to its absolute limit, straining against something that was clearly not part of the standard Spiderman equipment. The bulge was obscene, unmistakable, jutting against the spandex with an urgency that made your face go hot.

You looked away so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. Your eyes fixed on the wall, on the one piece poster you’d had since you were fourteen, on absolutely anything that wasn’t the very obvious, very prominent evidence of whatever that pink gas had done to him.

“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, very quietly.

“Yeah.” His voice was strangled. 

The silence that followed was the loudest thing you’d ever heard. You could hear the radiator knocking, the distant hum of the elevator, the sound of your own heartbeat hammering in your ears. You could hear Yunho breathing, ragged and uneven, and you could hear the faint creak of the bedsprings as he shifted his weight—trying, you realised, to adjust himself in a way that was probably physically impossible given the current circumstances.

“So,” you cleared your throat, still staring at the wall with the intensity of someone trying to burn a hole through drywall through sheer force of will. “The, uh, pink gas thing. The mutant you fought secreted it out or something?”

“I don’t even know what to call it. De Wolff’s notes again called it a ‘dispersal-type,’ whatever the hell that means. It could—it could secrete stuff. From these glands on its arms. Like a—like a skunk, but worse.” He confirmed miserably.

“So it’s a lizard-skunk hybrid mutant that so happens to exude this pink gas which makes you…hard?”

He made a frustrated sound, something between a groan and a laugh. “I don’t know what it is. Aphrodisiac? Maybe? I don’t know—” He cut himself off. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

You finally risked a glance back at him, and the look on his face. Tortured, mortified, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. This was Yunho. Your Yunho. The boy who’d once tripped over his own feet and face-planted into a birthday cake. The boy who’d cried during Up and tried to blame it on allergies.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you frowned, and your voice came out softer than you expected. “It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like my fault.”

“It’s not.” You reached out, hesitated, then placed your hand on his knee. The muscle beneath the suit jumped at your touch, and you felt him shudder. “How long do these effects last?”

“I don’t know.” He laughed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “The mutant didn’t exactly leave me a FAQ sheet.”

Something about the sheer absurdity of it, the fact that the city’s most beloved hero was sitting on your bed looking like a kicked puppy with a boner, hit you all at once, and a laugh bubbled up out of your chest before you could stop it. It started small, a snort that you tried to smother behind your hand, but then Yunho looked at you with that wounded expression and it cracked wide open. You doubled over, clutching your stomach, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Bug, It’s not funny…”

“It’s a little bit funny,” you giggled.

“It’s not—” But then he was laughing too, that helpless, breathless laugh that always came out when he was trying to be serious and failing spectacularly. His shoulders shook, and he pressed both palms over his eyes, and the two of you sat there at two in the morning laughing like idiots while the radiator clanked and the world outside kept spinning.

“I can’t believe this shit,” you repeated, wiping your eyes. “The mighty Spiderman, borderline pussywhipped by a horny gas. This is kind of hilarious you have to admit.”

“Oh come on, no it’s not.” But he was grinning now with a ridiculous grin that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and for a moment it felt almost normal. Almost like any other night where he’d come through your window banged up, and you’d fixed him and joked about it until the sun came up.

The laughter died slowly, fading into something quieter, something that left the air between you feeling charged and strange. Yunho’s grin slipped, and the flush crept back up his neck, and you watched his jaw tighten as another wave of whatever was coursing through him hit. His fingers dug into his own knees, knuckles going white, and a sound escaped him—low, involuntary, almost a whimper.

You sobered fast. “You okay?”

He dragged in a breath through his nose, held it, let it out through his teeth. “It’s getting worse,” he whined, stripped of the humour from seconds ago. “I thought it might fade, but it’s not. It’s getting worse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Okay. Okay, so—what do you need? What can I do?”

He looked at you then, the expression on his face made something low in your belly tighten. His eyes were dark, almost black, and there was something desperate in them that you’d never seen before.

“Can you help me?”

The question hung in the air between you. You blinked.

“Help you—” You gestured vaguely at the general direction of his predicament. “With that?”

He nodded, just once, and the embarrassment on his face was so acute it was almost painful to look at.

You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Yunho. Can’t you just…” You mimed the universal gesture for self-service, two quick pumps of your fist. “Rub one out? Go to the bathroom, take care of it, come back when you’re…you know. Less bricked?”

Something flashed across his face—amusement, exasperation, something raw underneath both. He let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. “Trust me, I tried. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t try.”

You tried, like really tried not to imagine your best friend jerking off. Yunho, alone in some bathroom somewhere, hand wrapped around himself, trying and failing to find relief. Your brain supplied the details without your permission, the way his jaw would clench, the sound he’d make, the way his chest would heave. You squeezed your thighs together so hard you felt the muscles protest.

“I tried three times,” he continued, oblivious to the war you were waging against your own imagination. “On the way here. I swung by to my place, thought if I could just… you know…but nothing. It just made it worse, actually.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If it’s an aphrodisiac, shouldn’t it go away after you jerk off?”

“That’s the thing.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and the movement shifted the fabric in a way that made your gaze skitter sideways. “I found more information about the mutant. After the fight, before I came here. The mutant’s file was in the wreckage of the aphrodisiac gas, it’s targeted.”

“Targeted how?”

He swallowed. You watched the bob of his throat, the way his Adam’s apple moved, and you had to physically force yourself to look at his face instead.