—In the end, it wasn't the bullets or the betrayals that broke me. It was the weight of my own choices, too heavy to carry any longer.—

Content Warning: This chapter contains punishment and a major character death in a way you never expected. Please proceed with caution and take care of yourself while reading. If these themes are triggering for you, it's okay to skip that part or revisit it when you feel ready. Remember, this is just fiction. Peace out✌️

Pic cr| Merobaek 🖤

***

Baekhyun swallowed hard, biting his lip, unable to speak as the tension between them grew thicker.

Chanyeol's gaze never left Baekhyun as he gestured toward the open box. "Pick your favorite, Baekhyun. I want to hear you beg for it."

Baekhyun's breath hitched as he walked toward the bed, the air in the room thick with tension. He reached out, trembling slightly, and opened the box sitting at the edge of the bed. His fingers brushed against the lid as it lifted, revealing its contents with a sense of foreboding. Inside was an assortment of familiar tools—symbols of control, dominance, and discipline.

The metal cuffs gleamed in the low light, their soft, worn edges offering a strange contrast to the sleek black paddle lying next to them. Baekhyun's gaze faltered, skipping over the thin, sharp strands of the flogger, imagining the sting they promised. His eyes caught the sight of the ball gag and blindfold, items that immediately sparked an anxious flutter in his chest. The mere thought of what could come next sent a nervous thrill through his body.

Behind him, Baekhyun heard the click of the door as Don Chanyeol locked it, the sound echoing ominously through the room. He didn't need to turn around to feel Chanyeol's presence—strong, commanding, filling the space with unspoken intensity. Every footstep Chanyeol took toward the bed seemed measured, deliberate, as if each movement was meant to remind Baekhyun exactly who held the power in the room.

Baekhyun's heart raced, his pulse drumming in his ears as Chanyeol came closer, his gaze never leaving him. He could feel the weight of those dark eyes, heavy with intent, trailing over his body. Baekhyun's throat tightened, a mix of anticipation and fear taking hold of him, knowing what was about to unfold but not daring to resist. He glanced back at Chanyeol, whose lips curled into a faint smirk, his gaze darker than ever.

"You're taking too long, baby," Chanyeol's voice was a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver down Baekhyun's spine. "Do you want me to choose for you?"

Baekhyun's knees almost buckled under the weight of Chanyeol's words. He knew what the Mafia Don wanted. There was no way out of this—only submission. His body felt heavy with anticipation, fear, and a dark thrill as Chanyeol's eyes remained on him, commanding, controlling. His fingers finally settled on the sleek black paddle. His eyes lifted hesitantly to meet Chanyeol's, and he swallowed the lump in his throat before whispering, "This one."

Chanyeol's lips curved into a predatory smile. He took the paddle from Baekhyun's hand and admired it for a moment, the weight of it amazing in his grip. "Good choice," he murmured, running his thumb along the edge of the paddle. Suddenly, Chanyeol's voice, deep and husky, filled with a quiet intensity as he leaned closer to Baekhyun, his lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You know what I want to hear," he whispered, each word dripping with control. His hand slid down to the small of Baekhyun's back, pulling him in closer. "When you're being punished, you'll address me as 'Daddy,'" he commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Baekhyun's breath hitched, his heart racing as the heat from Chanyeol's words sent a wave of anticipation through him. He swallowed, barely able to form words, before he finally breathed out, "Yes... Daddy," his voice soft, submissive, and full of need. The way Chanyeol's eyes darkened in response only made Baekhyun's pulse quicken, knowing he was exactly where Chanyeol wanted him.

"Now, get on the bed and take off your shirt."

Baekhyun's legs felt weak, but he obeyed, moving to the bed, taking off his shirt and climbing onto it on all fours. His heart was racing, and every breath felt too loud in the stillness of the room. The anticipation of what was coming made his entire body tense with a mix of fear and arousal.

Chanyeol moved behind him, slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. "You like testing me, don't you?" he said, his voice low and teasing as he ran his hand along Baekhyun's back. "You think you can just break my rules and get away with it?"

Baekhyun shook his head quickly, his voice shaky. "No, I—"

"Shh," Chanyeol interrupted, his hand gripping Baekhyun's waist firmly, making him still. "You don't get to talk. Not until I say you can." His hand moved down to Baekhyun's hips, tugging his pants down roughly, exposing him fully. "Look at you, so eager to be punished... Maybe this is what you wanted all along."

Baekhyun's breath caught as Chanyeol's hand landed on his bare skin, possessive and firm. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. The tension in the room was thick, electric.

Baekhyun knelt on the bed, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Chanyeol stood behind him, the paddle gripped firmly in his hand. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, a mixture of fear, desire, and submission coursing through Baekhyun's veins. He glanced nervously over his shoulder as Chanyeol's dark eyes surveyed him, the weight of his authority palpable in the silence.

"Why are you being punished, Baekhyun?" Chanyeol's voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it.

Baekhyun's lips trembled as he whispered, "Because... I was disobedient, daddy, and disrespectful—"

The words barely left his mouth before Chanyeol brought the paddle down hard across Baekhyun's skin. The sharp crack echoed through the room, and Baekhyun gasped, his body jerking forward from the impact. The sting shot through him, sharp and unrelenting.

Chanyeol stood for a moment, admiring the view in front of him, watching as Baekhyun's body tensed under the pain. But there was no respite. The paddle came down again, harder this time. Baekhyun whimpered, his hands gripping the sheets, knuckles turning white.

"And do you deserve this?" Chanyeol asked, his voice low, dark, as he brought the paddle down once more.

Tears welled in Baekhyun's eyes, his voice shaky as he choked out, "Y-yes Daddy."

Chanyeol paused, letting the weight of the moment settle between them. He traced a finger along the reddened lines on Baekhyun's skin, almost gently, before pulling back and delivering another sharp strike. Baekhyun's sobs filled the room, his body trembling as pain and submission intertwined, each strike a reminder of who held the control.

"Say that again," Chanyeol commanded, his voice cold and unwavering.

Baekhyun's voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion, "Yes, Daddy. I deserve to be punished."

Another sharp crack of the paddle, and Baekhyun let out a soft cry, tears slipping down his cheeks as his body succumbed to Chanyeol's authority. The pain was overwhelming, but so was the closeness, the intimacy of the moment. It wasn't just punishment; it was a reminder of the power dynamics between them.

"You're mine, Baekhyun," Chanyeol growled, his voice thick with dominance, every word heavy with authority. He brought the paddle down hard against Baekhyun's exposed skin, the sharp crack of leather filling the room.

Baekhyun sobbed, his mind swirled with emotions—shame, guilt, and a desperate need for forgiveness.

Chanyeol leaned in close, his voice a low warning. "You don't get to run off to Hell without my permission. You don't get to disrespect me in front of my men." Another strike followed, harder than the last, making Baekhyun cry out louder, his voice broken. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered, his tears falling freely. The sting of each strike was unbearable, and yet he knew he deserved it.

"And you sure as hell don't get to stand in front of me and tell me what to do when it comes to my family." Chanyeol continued, his words harsh and unrelenting as he delivered another punishing blow. Baekhyun's sobs grew even more louder, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain the emotions flooding through him.

"Do you understand?" Chanyeol asked, his voice stern as he raised the paddle once more. Baekhyun nodded through his sobs, his voice trembling. "Y-Yes... I understand... I'm sorry..." His tears soaked into the sheets as he buried his face in them, utterly overwhelmed by Chanyeol's dominance and the punishment he knew he couldn't escape.

Chanyeol leaned down, his breath ghosting over Baekhyun's ear. "Good. Remember this next time you think about disrespecting and disobeying me."

Baekhyun nodded, biting his lip to stifle his sobs, fully submitting to the man he loved despite the harsh lesson being taught. His entire body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Chanyeol leaned over him, his breath hot against Baekhyun's ear as he spoke, his voice a dark whisper. "You like this, don't you? You like being punished, being reminded of who you belong to until you cry, huh?." His hand slid down Baekhyun's body, fingers gripping his thighs roughly before pushing his knees apart. "Tell me you love it."

Baekhyun's breath came in shaky gasps, his body trembling beneath Chanyeol's touch. "I-I love it," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I love it... Daddy."

Chanyeol's grip tightened, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. "That's right. You're my good boy, aren't you?" He trailed his fingers teasingly between Baekhyun's legs, making him squirm. "Tell me what you want."

Baekhyun's entire body was trembling, his mind hazy with arousal and desperation. "Please, Daddy... Please touch me," he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. "I need it... I need you."

Chanyeol smirked, satisfied with Baekhyun's submission. He brought the paddle down one last time, the force of the blow making Baekhyun cry out in pleasure and pain, his body shaking uncontrollably. Then, with a low growl, he tossed the paddle aside and grabbed Baekhyun by the hair, pulling his head back just enough to speak directly into his ear.

"You're never going to disobey me again, are you?"

"N-No... Daddy, I won't. I swear," Baekhyun gasped, and sobbed, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm sorry..."

Chanyeol released him, letting him fall back onto the bed, panting and exhausted. His hand traced the red marks he'd left on Baekhyun's skin, his touch surprisingly gentle after the rough punishment.

But Chanyeol wasn't done.

He watched Baekhyun sprawled out on the bed, panting heavily from the punishment so far, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. Baekhyun had been brave to defy him, and now he would learn just how deep Chanyeol's dominance ran.

Chanyeol ran a hand over Baekhyun's exposed skin, fingers tracing the burning red welts he had left. "You thought this was over?" he asked, voice dangerously low. "No." His eyes darkened as he reached into the box and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Baekhyun's eyes widened, his breath catching as he saw the glint of metal. "Daddy... please..." he begged, but Chanyeol was already moving, his strong hands pulling Baekhyun's wrists together behind his back, the cold metal snapping shut around them. He leaned down close to Baekhyun's ear, his breath hot against his skin. "You don't get to beg me for mercy. Not after what you did."

Baekhyun shuddered at the roughness of Chanyeol's voice, his heart pounding in his chest. The feeling of being restrained, completely at Chanyeol's mercy, only heightened the tension. He could feel his boyfriend's control over him, and it sent a wave of both fear and excitement through him.

Chanyeol reached back into the box and pulled out a silk blindfold, wrapping it around Baekhyun's eyes. "You wanted to act like you didn't know your place tonight," he growled, tightening the knot at the back of Baekhyun's head. "Now, you'll see what it means to truly submit."

Baekhyun's world went dark as the blindfold settled over his eyes. He could hear Chanyeol moving behind him, the sound of his footsteps slow, deliberate, and terrifyingly silent. He had no idea what was coming next, only that Chanyeol was in complete control.

"Chanyeol, I—"

The sharp crack of Chanyeol's palm against Baekhyun's already sensitive ass cut him off. "It's 'Daddy', and I told you.'No talking' unless I give you permission." His hand lingered on Baekhyun's body, rubbing soothing circles over the spot where he had just struck, the contrast between pain and comfort dizzying.

Baekhyun whimpered softly, his mind spinning as his body reacted to every little sensation Chanyeol gave him. He could feel the tension building between them, the punishment pushing him to his limits. Yet even in his submission, there was an undeniable pull of pleasure.

"You enjoy being bratty, don't you? Always wanting things to go your way." Chanyeol's voice was low, seductive, but firm as he leaned down to whisper into Baekhyun's ear. "You don't just break my rules and walk away unscathed. Not when I'm the boss here. Not when you belong to me."

Baekhyun's lips quivered. "I'm sorry daddy... I just wanted to protect Minseok."

Chanyeol chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down Baekhyun's spine. "That's not your fucking job, is it? Your only job is to fucking obey me, and stay safe."

His fingers slid lower, and Baekhyun's breath hitched as he felt Chanyeol's hand linger teasingly close to where he ached the most. But instead of granting him relief, Chanyeol pulled away, leaving Baekhyun panting, desperate, and frustrated.

"Please..." Baekhyun whimpered, his voice trembling with need. He wanted to be good, to obey, but the ache inside him was becoming unbearable.

Chanyeol hummed thoughtfully, watching Baekhyun squirm under his control. "You want something from me?" he asked, his tone mocking. "You want me to make you feel good?"

"Yes," Baekhyun whispered desperately, his body trembling with the need to be touched, to be claimed. "Please... I want you inside me... I want you to fuck me, daddy."

Chanyeol smirked, loving the sound of Baekhyun's broken pleas. "You haven't earned it yet." He grabbed Baekhyun by the hips, flipping him over so he was on his back, wrists still cuffed behind him, blindfolded, and utterly vulnerable. "I want to hear you beg for it properly."

Baekhyun's cheeks flushed red as he felt the weight of Chanyeol's gaze on him, his entire body exposed and at his mercy. "Please, Daddy... I'm sorry... I'll be good... Just... please...fuck me." His voice cracked with desperation, every word trembling as he surrendered fully.

Chanyeol's eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of Baekhyun beneath him, so helpless, so eager to please. He leaned down, hovering Baekhyun, his lips brushing against Baekhyun's ear. "That's better."

Suddenly, Chanyeol flipped Baekhyun to lay on his stomach and grabbed his waist with a possessive grip, pulling him effortlessly to the edge of the bed, closer to where he stood, making him kneel. The sound of his fingers undoing his belt, his pants—button, and zipper—was agonizingly slow, the anticipation building with each deliberate movement. Baekhyun's breath hitched, his heart racing. He knew exactly what was coming, he knew his boyfriend was about to fuck the hell out of him, but the blindfold over his eyes made the waiting unbearable. He squirmed, his body desperate to touch, to feel Chanyeol, but the restraints on his wrists kept him in place.

"You want me to take care of you, don't you?" Chanyeol's deep voice rumbled through the room, oozing dominance. He pressed himself against Baekhyun, teasing him by barely letting him feel the tip of his length. "Tell me, is this what you want, baby?"

"Yes... please, daddy..." Baekhyun whimpered, his voice trembling with desperation. His entire body was on edge, every nerve begging for more.

Chanyeol smirked, lining himself up, teasing Baekhyun with his presence once more. "You sound so needy," he taunted, his voice low and husky. "I love it when you beg. Say it again... tell me how much you want me."

"I need you, please..." Baekhyun's words were barely audible, a breathless plea.

With a dark chuckle, Chanyeol pushed himself in, sliding only halfway inside, his thick shaft stretching Baekhyun slowly, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and torment. Baekhyun's back arched, his hips instinctively trying to push back to take more, but Chanyeol held him firmly in place, savoring his control over the moment.

"Not so fast," Chanyeol murmured, his voice laced with amusement. He pulled out slightly before thrusting in again, still not giving Baekhyun all of him. "You take what I give you, understand?"

"Yes... yes, daddy," Baekhyun sobbed, completely at Chanyeol's mercy, his body trembling with need.

Chanyeol gripped Baekhyun's waist tighter, his voice darkening with lust. "Good boy," he praised, thrusting deeper this time, burying himself fully inside Baekhyun. Baekhyun gasped, his body shuddering at the sensation. "You feel so good wrapped around me... so tight. You were made for me, weren't you?"

Baekhyun could only moan in response, his mind too clouded with pleasure to form words. Chanyeol's pace quickened, each thrust more deliberate, more intense.

"Tell me who you belong to," Chanyeol demanded, his voice rough as he drove into Baekhyun, his grip never loosening.

"You... I belong to you, daddy," Baekhyun gasped, his voice filled with both submission and need.

"That's right," Chanyeol growled, his hips snapping harder into Baekhyun. "You're mine, and I'm going to remind you every chance I get."

Chanyeol's grip on Baekhyun's waist tightened as he thrust deeper, his movements becoming rougher, more deliberate. Each thrust sent shockwaves through Baekhyun's body, his mind lost in the haze of pleasure and pain blending together.

"You take me so well, baby," Chanyeol growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Look at you, trembling... begging for more." He thrust hard, the force making Baekhyun cry out, his head and shoulders arching off the bed.

Baekhyun's breath hitched, barely able to respond as the pleasure overwhelmed him. "I... I'm sorry... so sorry daddy," he whimpered, his voice breaking with desperation. His fingers flexed uselessly against the restraints behind him, wanting to set himself loose, wanting to touch Chanyeol even, to hold onto something, anything for his dear life, but he was completely at Chanyeol's mercy.

Chanyeol smirked, loving the sight of Baekhyun completely unraveled beneath him. "You love this, don't you? Being helpless... being mine." His voice dropped even lower, dripping with authority as he whispered against Baekhyun's ear. "You love it when I take control, don't you?"

"Yes... yes, daddy," Baekhyun sobbed, his voice muffled as his shoulders fell back onto the bed and his face pressed into the sheets. "Yes, I love it..."

Chanyeol chuckled darkly, pulling Baekhyun's hips closer as he drove deeper. "So greedy, aren't you?" he teased, his hand slipping around to wrap firmly around Baekhyun's length, stroking him in time with his thrusts. "I give you everything, and you still want more. You want to take it all, aren't you a bad boy?"

"Yes!" Baekhyun gasped, his voice trembling as Chanyeol's hand worked him mercilessly, his body on the edge of breaking. "I'll take it... all of you..."

Chanyeol smirked against Baekhyun's skin, his breath hot against his neck as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. "You'll take it because you're mine. You belong to me."

Baekhyun moaned, the combination of Chanyeol's words and the relentless pleasure pushing him closer to the edge. "I'm yours... all yours daddy..."

Chanyeol's pace quickened, his hips slamming into Baekhyun with brutal precision. "That's right," he growled. "And don't you ever forget it."

Chanyeol's thrusts became faster, more aggressive, each one pushing Baekhyun closer to his breaking point. Baekhyun's moans filled the room, growing louder as the intensity built inside him, his body writhing with every thrust.

"You're so close, aren't you?" Chanyeol's voice was rough, dripping with dominance as he continued to stroke Baekhyun with a firm grip. "I can feel how desperate you are, baby. You want to cum for me, don't you?"

Baekhyun's response was breathless, broken, his entire body shaking under Chanyeol's control. "Yes... please daddy... I want to cum."

Chanyeol smirked, leaning down to whisper against Baekhyun's ear, his breath sending shivers down his spine. "I'll let you cum, but you don't get to until I say so. Understand?"

Baekhyun whimpered, his body on the verge of collapse as the pleasure surged through him. "Please, daddy... I can't... I'm so close..."

Chanyeol's hand tightened around Baekhyun's length, his strokes becoming more purposeful as his thrusts grew rougher. "Hold it, baby. Don't you dare cum until I tell you," he growled, his voice filled with dark promise. "You'll come when I say."

Baekhyun's mind was spinning, the pleasure almost unbearable as he fought to hold back. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "I-I can't..."

Chanyeol groaned, his own control slipping as he thrust deep one final time, filling Baekhyun completely. "Now, baby," he growled into Baekhyun's ear, his voice heavy with command. "Cum for me."

The permission was all Baekhyun needed. With a loud cry, his body exploded with pleasure, his orgasm crashing over him in waves so intense that he felt like he might break apart. His release spilled over Chanyeol's hand, and sheets, his entire body shook uncontrollably as he rode out the pleasure.

Chanyeol grunted, his own release spilling into Baekhyun with a deep, possessive growl. He held Baekhyun close, his body trembling slightly as the last of the tension drained from him.

As Baekhyun lay there, his body spent and his mind hazy with afterglow, Chanyeol leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to his neck. "That's my good boy," he murmured, his voice still thick with dominance but softened by affection.

Baekhyun, panting and utterly wrecked, could only manage a soft, "Thank you, daddy," as he melted into the sheets beneath him, completely at Chanyeol's mercy.

As Baekhyun's breathing slowly returned to normal, Chanyeol carefully withdrew from him, his touch surprisingly gentle after the intense passion that had consumed them moments before. Baekhyun lay there, still trembling and spent, as he felt Chanyeol's fingers move to undo the restraints binding his wrists.

The cuffs slipped away, leaving faint marks on Baekhyun's skin. He moved next to the blindfold, his hands brushing gently against Baekhyun's hair as he untied it and let the fabric fall away.

Baekhyun blinked as the dim light of the room filled his vision again, his eyes adjusting as he looked up at Chanyeol. There was no longer the stern, commanding Don in front of him—now, it was his lover, gazing down at him with soft, almost apologetic eyes.

Chanyeol cupped Baekhyun's cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of his flushed skin. "You did so well, baby," he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Baekhyun's lips, a stark contrast to the dominant man who had taken control moments before.

Baekhyun, exhausted but still deeply connected to Chanyeol, managed a small smile, his heart swelling at the affection in Chanyeol's eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse from both his cries and the overwhelming emotions coursing through him.
----

After their intense moment, Baekhyun lay comfortably on Chanyeol's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath him. Chanyeol, his arms wrapped protectively around Baekhyun, gently ran his hand through Baekhyun's soft hair, his touch tender and soothing. "Rest now," he whispered against Baekhyun's hair. "You're safe with me." The room was quiet, the only sound being the air conditioner and their relaxed breaths mingling together in the peaceful afterglow.

"Are you okay?" Chanyeol's deep voice rumbled softly as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of Baekhyun's head. His arms wrapped protectively around Baekhyun's smaller frame. "Did I hurt you too much?"

Baekhyun shifted slightly, lifting his face to meet Chanyeol's concerned gaze. His cheeks were still flushed, his breath steadying after the intensity of their passion. "It hurt," Baekhyun whispered with a soft smile, "but it was mixed with pleasure. It was painful, but... it felt good."

Chanyeol's eyes drifted downward, noticing Baekhyun's fingers tracing gentle, invisible patterns across his chest. A small smile tugged at his lips, but then his gaze caught the faint red mark around Baekhyun's wrist, left by the handcuffs. The sight made his smile falter.

Quietly, Chanyeol took Baekhyun's wrist in his hand, his thumb brushing over the mark with gentle care. He leaned down and kissed it softly, his voice low with regret. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Baekhyun blinked, surprised by the apology. "Why are you sorry?" he asked, lifting his wrist slightly to show the faint line. "Is it because of this?"

Chanyeol nodded, his brow furrowed in concern. "Yeah... I didn't mean to leave a mark like that."

Baekhyun's smile grew softer, filled with affection. "Don't be. It's part of it. I actually liked it." He said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur.

Chanyeol's expression softened, and he kissed Baekhyun's wrist again, this time with a little more ease, knowing Baekhyun was okay. "I'll be more careful next time," he promised.

Baekhyun chuckled, his head nestling back against Chanyeol's chest. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Chanyeol's laugh was quiet but warm, and he pulled Baekhyun closer, his hand now gently stroking Baekhyun's hair. "So are you."

Chanyeol's tension eased slightly at Baekhyun's reassurance, but he still seemed a bit uncertain. He continued to rub Baekhyun's wrist gently, his thumb soothing over the mark. "What was the best part for you? I mean, what really... intrigued you?" he asked, his voice curious yet caring.

Baekhyun thought for a moment, his eyes flickering with memories of their earlier intensity. "Honestly? When you put the handcuffs on me and blindfolded me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chanyeol's brow raised slightly, intrigued. "Really? Why that?"

Baekhyun's cheeks flushed as he explained. "It made me feel... blank. Like, I couldn't see what you were doing, but I could hear you, feel you. It was exciting but kind of scary at the same time. But I still felt safe because it was you. If it were anyone else, I think I would've panicked, but with you, I knew I was okay."

Chanyeol's chest swelled with affection at Baekhyun's words, the trust Baekhyun placed in him evident. He kissed Baekhyun's wrist again, this time more tenderly. "I'm glad you felt safe," he murmured, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

Baekhyun smiled, his fingers continued to trace the lines of Chanyeol's chest again. "I did. The fact that I couldn't see you, but I knew you were there... it made everything more intense."

Chanyeol chuckled softly, his fingers still brushing through Baekhyun's hair, down to his back in gentle strokes. "You're something else," he murmured, amusement coloring his voice.

Baekhyun let out a small laugh, leaning further into Chanyeol's embrace, resting his head on his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment before a chuckle escaped his lips, the sound light and teasing.

"What's funny?" Chanyeol asked, glancing down at Baekhyun, his brow raised.

Baekhyun giggled softly, his eyes twinkling as he looked up at his boyfriend. "I just never thought the big, scary Mafia Don had... this in him," he said, his tone playful.

Chanyeol tilted his head, pretending to be confused. "Had what in me?"

"This whole... dominant thing. Restraints, daddy thing and all of it," Baekhyun said with a mischievous grin, biting his lip. "You surprised me."

Chanyeol was quiet for a moment, considering Baekhyun's words. "I don't really have it in me," he finally replied, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You brought it out of me."

Baekhyun blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Chanyeol's hand paused on Baekhyun's back as he explained. "Well... you've been badly behaved lately. Misbehaving here and there. And instead of yelling or fighting, I thought... maybe we needed something different. A way to put you back in check. Punishment, yes, but one that causes pain and... brings you pleasure in the end."

Baekhyun looked up at him with wide eyes, then burst out laughing softly. "You're unbelievable," he said, his voice full of affection.

Chanyeol grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to Baekhyun's forehead. "Well, you seem to enjoy it."

Baekhyun smiled, snuggling closer into Chanyeol's chest, feeling safe and loved. "I did," He let out a contented sigh, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on Chanyeol's arm. They stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the warmth of each other's presence.

After a while, Chanyeol's deep voice broke the comfortable silence. "You know... I think next time we should have a safe word."

Baekhyun looked up, curiosity in his eyes. "A safe word? What's that?"

Chanyeol chuckled softly, continuing to stroke Baekhyun's hair as he explained. "It's a word you use when you've reached your limit. When you can't take the pain anymore. You say the word, and I'll stop immediately. It's important, so I don't push you beyond what you can handle."

Baekhyun bit his lip, thinking about it. "Do we need that?"

Chanyeol looked down at him seriously. "Only if you want this kind of thing to be a part of our relationship. I want to make sure you're comfortable with it. I don't want to hurt you more than you can take."

Baekhyun thought for a moment, his face thoughtful before he nodded slowly. "I like it... I like this side of you, Chanyeol. The... daddy thing," he said, blushing slightly as he spoke. "So, if I say the word, you'll stop?"

Chanyeol nodded, his expression serious. "Exactly. I don't want to hurt you more than you can handle."

Baekhyun hummed, still thinking. "I'll... think about it."

Chanyeol smiled, pressing another kiss to Baekhyun's forehead. "Take your time, baby."

They lay there in silence after that, Baekhyun feeling the warmth and love radiating from Chanyeol's touch, his heart fluttering in his chest. Even after the intensity of their earlier actions, there was a softness between them now—a quiet understanding and deep connection.

Baekhyun closed his eyes, resting his head back on Chanyeol's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

~
~
~

The morning light filtered weakly through the windows of Don Chanyeol's home office, casting long shadows across the room. He sat at his desk, his fingers tracing the edge of a glass, though he had no desire to drink. His face was impassive, a carefully constructed mask of control, but beneath it, a deep sorrow gnawed at him. He was a Don, and every decision he made carried a weight few could understand.

His Consigliere, Heechul, stood across from him, silent as he waited for Chanyeol to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, as if something heavy was about to be released.

"Why?" Chanyeol's voice was quiet, almost hollow. He didn't look up from the glass in his hand. "Why did they kill him after I ordered him to be locked up?"

Heechul sighed deeply, the sound filled with weariness. "We didn't kill him," he said softly, his eyes dark with regret. "I got a call from one of the guards early this morning... Minseok took his own life. He slit his wrists while in the cell."

For a moment, the world seemed to still. Chanyeol's grip on the glass tightened, and the clink of his hand against the rim echoed in the quiet room. He didn't say anything at first, his breath catching in his throat as the weight of Heechul's words sank in.

Minseok had chosen death on his own.

With an expression that betrayed nothing, Chanyeol stood up from his desk. "Take me to him," he said simply, his voice low and steady, though Heechul could sense the storm brewing beneath the surface.

The ride to Hell was silent, the usual hum of the city lost to Chanyeol's own thoughts. He sat in the backseat of the car, staring out the window, but his mind was far away. He had faced death countless times, but this felt different. Minseok's betrayal had stung deeply, but Chanyeol never intended for things to end this way.

They arrived at Hell, the dark, foreboding underground cell where traitors and enemies were kept, and the atmosphere seemed heavier than usual. The guards stood at attention as Chanyeol and Heechul walked inside, their footsteps echoing in the narrow hallways.

When they reached the cell, Chanyeol stopped. His eyes fell on Minseok's lifeless form slumped against the wall, blood still pooling beneath his wrists, staining the cold stone floor.

For a long moment, Chanyeol stood there, frozen, his face expressionless, but his heart was heavy. The sadness in his eyes was unmistakable, though he held back the tears that threatened to fall. The silence in the room pressed down on him, suffocating, and all the noise from the outside world seemed to fade away.

Minseok had once been like a brother to him. They had laughed together, fought side by side, and now here he was—gone by his own hand. Chanyeol's mind swirled with memories of the past, and the pain of the present twisted inside him like a knife.

He knelt beside Minseok, reaching out a trembling hand to close his eyes, giving him some semblance of peace in death. He could feel Heechul watching him, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Minseok..." Chanyeol whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with grief. He stared at the man who had once been so full of life, now reduced to this. He should have known. He should have seen the desperation in Minseok's eyes before it came to this.

He should have killed him by himself.

Behind him, Heechul stood solemnly, his heart heavy for his Don. He could see how much this weighed on Chanyeol, how much it tore at the soul of the man who had to carry the burdens of everyone around him. Heechul quietly stepped back, giving Chanyeol the space he needed to grieve, even if it was in silence.

Minutes passed like hours, and eventually, Chanyeol stood, his composure fragile but intact. "Take care of it," he said quietly, the command barely leaving his lips. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the cell, the weight of loss clinging to him like a shadow.

As the mansion grew quiet in the aftermath of the tragedy, the echoes of Minseok's death lingered in the air. Chanyeol sat alone in his office once more, staring blankly at the space in front of him. The burden of his position had never felt heavier, the pain of losing someone close twisted around his heart like an unrelenting vice.

And for the first time in a long while, the Don of the Fire and Light Mafia allowed himself to feel the full weight of his sorrow.

~
~
~

Don Chanyeol had always been the pillar of strength—the unshakable leader who kept his emotions locked away, buried beneath layers of resolve and power. But now, sitting alone in his dimly lit office, the weight of Minseok's death bore down on him like a crushing wave. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning, but it was a silence that screamed with the echoes of guilt, grief, and the irrevocable finality of death.

He stared blankly at his desk, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair, knuckles white as he fought the storm brewing inside him. He had held it together at Hell, had watched Minseok's lifeless form with the detachment expected of him as a Don. But now, in the solitude of his office, there was no one to witness the cracks forming in his armor.

Minseok. His brother-in-arms, his once-loyal confidant. A man who had been a part of his life for so long, now reduced to a memory and a pool of blood on the cold floor of a cell.

Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image, but it only grew sharper in his mind. The sound of Heechul's words replayed in his head, echoing with cruel clarity.

"He slit his wrists..."

The pain of those words clawed at his chest, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. He had wanted justice for the betrayal, had been prepared to make an example out of Minseok, but not like this. Not like this.

Before he could stop it, the tears welled up in his eyes, stinging and hot. He clenched his jaw, his body trembling as he fought against the tide of emotion that surged through him. But it was too much, too heavy. The grief, the guilt, the anger—they all mingled into one overwhelming force that he could no longer contain.

A single tear slid down his cheek, followed by another, and another. His breath hitched, and before he knew it, the floodgates broke. Don Chanyeol, the feared and respected leader, wept.

He buried his face in his hands, the sobs racking his broad shoulders as the full weight of his sorrow crashed over him. He wept for Minseok—for the betrayal that had led them here, for the friendship they had once shared, and for the life that had been snuffed out too soon. He wept for the choices he had made, for the path that had led him to this moment where power and control had come at the cost of everything else.

He had never wanted this. Never wanted to lose Minseok in such a tragic way.

The tears continued to fall, and Chanyeol didn't stop them. For once, he allowed himself to feel the depth of his grief, to let the sadness consume him, if only for a little while. He was still the Don, still the leader of the Fire and Light Mafia, but in this moment, he was just a man mourning the loss of someone he had cared about.

The pain was raw, visceral, and it left him feeling hollow and drained.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving him staring down at the floor, his eyes red and swollen, his heart heavy. He wiped the tears from his face, though the weight of his sorrow lingered, like an anchor dragging him down.

Chanyeol took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to pull himself back together. He was the Don. He had to be strong—for the family, for Baekhyun, for everyone who relied on him. But as he sat there, the tears still drying on his cheeks, he couldn't shake the feeling that a part of him had died along with Minseok.
....

As Sehun returned from his business trip to Singapore, completely unaware of what had unfolded, the moment he stepped through the door, the news slammed into him like a freight train.

"Minseok is dead, he slit his wrist." The words cut through him like a blade.

Sehun's knees buckled, and he collapsed into a nearby chair, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief. He had known the price of betrayal, but this... he never expected this. He never expected Minseok to take his own life.

"No... no, this can't be real..." Sehun whispered, his voice shaking. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he wiped them away, unable to fully process the shock of it all. "He wouldn't... he couldn't..."

He had always looked up to Minseok, admired him, and now the man who had been like an older brother to him was gone. The reality of it hit Sehun harder than he could have ever imagined.
----

Don Chanyeol remained seated in the dimly lit room, the silence thick around him as if it had absorbed his grief, keeping it locked within the walls. His mind was clouded with thoughts of Minseok, of their shared history, and the moments that led them to this final, irreversible end. His tears had dried, but the ache lingered, heavy in his chest.

A soft knock on the door broke the stillness, and without waiting for an answer, Heechul stepped inside. His usual sharp, composed demeanor was softened by the weight of the morning's events. He stood there for a moment, observing his Don—his friend. He had seen Chanyeol in many states over the years, but this quiet sorrow was something new, something deeper.

"Don Chanyeol," Heechul spoke gently, his voice low and respectful. "We need to discuss what happens next."

Chanyeol didn't respond immediately. His fingers drummed lightly against the desk as if grounding himself. When he finally lifted his gaze to meet Heechul's, his eyes were hollow, the fire within them dimmed.

"You know..." Chanyeol said, his voice rough and strained, yet calm. "It would have been better he died by a bullet than this."

Heechul sighed, taking a seat across from Chanyeol. "I know. And the men followed your command to the last. Minseok... he made the choice on his own. Probably due to guilt."

A bitter silence hung between them. Chanyeol's jaw clenched, his mind spinning, replaying all the things he could've done differently. Maybe if he had acted sooner, if he hadn't hesitated in killing Minseok—if he hadn't spared Minseok, they wouldn't be sitting here, facing this terrible aftermath.

"You did what you had to do," Heechul continued, sensing the guilt gnawing at Chanyeol. "You gave him a chance, Don Chanyeol. He made his own decision after that. It's not on you."

Chanyeol shook his head, the words offering little comfort. "I didn't want him to die like that," he muttered, more to himself than to Heechul. "Not alone. Not in a cell."

Heechul looked at his don, understanding the unspoken pain. He had been by Chanyeol's side for years, seen him make difficult decisions, watched him rise as Don, feared by many, respected by all. But beneath all that power, Chanyeol was still human—still capable of being wounded by the people closest to him.

"Sehun's back," Heechul said quietly. "He's taking it hard."

Chanyeol's expression tightened. He knew Sehun would be devastated, but facing him now felt like another blow. Minseok had been like a brother to Sehun too, and learning that he had taken his own life would shatter him in ways Chanyeol couldn't prevent.

"I'll talk to him," Chanyeol said after a moment, though he wasn't sure what he could say to ease the pain. What words could mend the loss?

Before they could dwell any longer, the door creaked open again, and Baekhyun stepped in hesitantly. His eyes immediately found Chanyeol, and the moment he saw his boyfriend's face, his heart sank. He had never seen Chanyeol look so... defeated. The air between them was thick with unspoken grief.

"Chanyeol..." Baekhyun's voice was soft, almost trembling. He stood by the door, unsure whether to approach or give him space.

Chanyeol's eyes flicked to Baekhyun, and for a brief second, he seemed on the verge of breaking all over again. But he steeled himself, pushing back the overwhelming emotions threatening to surge forward. He was the Don, and no matter how much he hurt, he couldn't let it show. Not now.

"Come here," Chanyeol said quietly, his voice still hoarse from earlier.

Baekhyun crossed the room slowly, his heart aching as he reached Chanyeol's side. He could see the traces of dried tears on Chanyeol's face, the sadness etched into his features, and it broke something inside him. Without a word, Baekhyun slipped his hand into Chanyeol's, squeezing gently, as if to remind him that he wasn't alone in this.

"Did it have to end this way?" Baekhyun whispered, his voice cracking.

Chanyeol exhaled slowly, staring down at their joined hands. "I wanted to give him a chance... but it wasn't enough."

Baekhyun blinked back his own tears, leaning into Chanyeol's shoulder. He had known Minseok too, known how close he and Chanyeol once were. The thought of him being gone—by his own hand, no less—felt like a wound that would never heal.

"You couldn't have known," Baekhyun murmured, his voice soft, soothing. "You tried, Chanyeol."

The silence between them was heavy but filled with understanding. Baekhyun rested his head against Chanyeol's shoulder, offering whatever comfort he could in the face of such an irreparable loss. He knew Chanyeol carried the weight of this tragedy, but he would carry it with him, for as long as it took.

Eventually, Chanyeol spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I didn't want him to die like that."

And as Baekhyun held onto him, Chanyeol allowed himself to feel that grief, to acknowledge the pain that came with losing someone who had been both family and enemy. He didn't have all the answers, didn't know how to fix the emptiness that now stretched between them.

But in that moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, if only for a little while, in the arms of the one person who still believed in him, despite it all.

~
~
~

Don Jackson reclined in his leather chair, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, a slight grin playing on his lips as he digested the news of Kim Minseok's demise. He exhaled slowly, feeling a twinge of guilt, though it was quickly smothered by his more cynical side.

"Minseok... taking his own life," he mused, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "I might've pushed the poor bastard over the edge with all the threats." He snorted, the thought amusing him more than it should. "But what did he expect, Zhao? The guy was easy to shake."

Zhao Ren, his consigliere, stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression impassive. "He did betray his Don," Zhao Ren said, with a deadpan delivery. "Minseok shouldn't have talked to you in the first place. That's his own fault."

Jackson nodded, sipping his whiskey. "Exactly! If I were Chanyeol, I would've popped him the moment he opened his mouth. No hesitation." Jackson muttered. "That's what I would've done. A rat like that? The second you smell betrayal, you end it." He pointed his glass toward Zhao, like he was making some grand revelation. "But... lucky for me Chanyeol didn't. Because if that fool hadn't spilled, how would I have found out that Baekhyun was his weak point, huh?" He raised his eyebrows, mockingly dramatic. "You know what that means, Zhao?"

Zhao Ren didn't miss a beat. "It means we're all blessed by Minseok's stupidity, Don Jackson."

Jackson burst into laughter, nearly spilling his drink. "That's right! Blessed!" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Poor guy couldn't even keep his mouth shut long enough to survive. But hey, Chanyeol did the right thing in the end. Would've been stupid to let him live after that." He chuckled again, almost proud of his own twisted logic.

Zhao Ren, stone-faced as always, nodded. "Indeed, Don Jackson. His silence now benefits us all."

Jackson clinked his glass with Zhao's invisible one. "To Minseok! A true idiot till the very end." His sarcastic tone filled the room as he leaned back, still laughing.

Zhao Ren, always the stoic sidekick, simply muttered, "To Minseok," but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, betraying his otherwise cold exterior.

Don Jackson, still grinning from his sarcastic toast to Minseok's demise, picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He stopped at "Lucas," his underboss, and hit dial. The phone rang a couple of times before Lucas answered.

"Don Jackson," Lucas greeted on the other line.

"Lucas," Jackson said smoothly, swirling his whiskey, "I want that report on Baekhyun, and I want it now. No delays. You understand?"

There was a pause, then Lucas replied, "You'll have it soon, Don. I'm almost done compiling everything."

"Good," Jackson replied, his voice low but laced with authority. "I don't care what Chanyeol thinks he's doing with his little... pet, but I want every detail. You better be thorough."

"Understood, Don. You'll get it shortly."

Jackson hung up, tossing the phone onto the desk. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with mischief. With a chuckle, he looked over at his consigliere Zhao Ren, who remained stoic as ever, watching Jackson closely.

"This is amazing," Jackson said, raising his glass once more, his grin widening.

Zhao Ren gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his lips twitching slightly as if suppressing a smile. "Indeed, Don Jackson. The game is just getting interesting."
----

A few days later...

Don Jackson stepped out of his grand mansion, the heavy doors closing behind him with a soft thud. His broad shoulders squared, his presence commanding, he was flanked by his trusted men: his underboss, Lucas, and his consigliere, Zhao Ren. The morning sun cast a faint glow on the group as they walked down the marble steps, their footsteps muffled by the lush surroundings of the estate.

A thick cigar hung loosely between Jackson's fingers, the ember burning bright as he brought it to his lips for a long, slow drag. The fragrant smoke curled around him, escaping into the cool air as he exhaled with satisfaction. His eyes narrowed slightly as he approached his fleet of sleek black cars, a small grin forming at the corner of his mouth as his Capos, loyal men of the Jackville family, immediately straightened upon seeing him.

They bowed deeply, showing their respect, and promptly made way for him to enter the car, their heads lowered in deference. Jackson gave them a brief nod, acknowledging their loyalty, but his mind was far from them. He was headed to the airport for Hong Kong, to seal one or two lucrative deals—something he was more than capable of, making vast amounts of dirting money. He had long proven his worth as a Mafia Don, known for his ruthless efficiency and ability to negotiate even the most impossible deals.

But money wasn't the issue. His real problem was Park Chanyeol. That name sent a flash of anger through him every time he thought about it.

Jackson climbed into the car, taking his place in the backseat as Zhao Ren slipped in beside him, his consigliere ever quiet, ever calculating. Lucas, his underboss, took his spot in the front, giving a quick glance back to make sure Jackson was settled before signaling for the convoy to move.

As the cars began to roll down the driveway, Jackson lit another puff from his cigar, savoring the bitter taste of the smoke. He leaned slightly toward the open window, watching the dusty road disappear beneath the speeding tires. The thought of Chanyeol gnawed at him constantly. Both of them had been inducted as made men into the same Mafia family once, but everything had changed when Jackson had popped their Don, a strategic move that forced Chanyeol to flee. Jackson's success should have been assured, but instead, Chanyeol had fled to Sicily and found backing from the Italian Mafia themselves. The Sicilian Godfather had not only protected him but later crowned him as a Don—a move that only deepened Jackson's hatred.

Since then, Chanyeol had become Jackson's obsession. Untouchable. Shielded by the old, ironclad rules of Cosa Nostra. Jackson could not openly strike at him without drawing the full wrath of Sicily. His every move had to be calculated, subtle, a way to undermine Chanyeol's rise to power without breaking the delicate balance of Mafia politics.

"Hold off on Baekhyun," Jackson ordered suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the low hum of the car's engine. Lucas, who had been quietly watching the road ahead, turned his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Let Chanyeol finish mourning his former underboss Minseok. At least that's the least I could do after I pushed the poor bastard to his own death."

Zhao Ren, sitting coolly beside Jackson, raised a brow at his Don's remark, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. "Thoughtful of you, Don Jackson," he said in his usual calm, composed manner. "But you should remember... we have less time than you think. The Godfather induction is in a few months. Giving Chanyeol time to mourn is one thing, but we can't afford to wait too long. If we're going to move, we need to move soon."

Jackson took another long drag from his cigar, his eyes narrowing as the words sank in. He knew Zhao Ren was right. Chanyeol wasn't just a rival; he was a threat to everything Jackson had worked for. The Cosa Nostra would be looking closely at the candidates for the Godfather position, scrutinizing every move. If Jackson wanted to undermine Chanyeol's claim, he had to act fast.

"I know," Jackson muttered, the cigar glowing brightly as he inhaled. "But there's a way to do this without rushing it. We'll hit him where it hurts, slowly. Let him think he's safe for now." He chuckled darkly, the sound low and menacing. "Let the game begin."

Zhao Ren nodded, a glint of amusement in his sharp eyes as the car sped through the city streets. Dust kicked up behind them, the convoy moving in full force toward the airport, each man silently plotting the next steps in their dangerous game of power.

~
~
~

As a Mafia Don, Chanyeol's struggle to move on from Minseok's demise was far more complex than anyone around him could grasp. Minseok had not only been a trusted lieutenant but a brother-in-arms, someone who had bled for the organization and stood by Chanyeol through countless battles. Losing him felt like a betrayal of his own strength as a leader—proof that despite his power and influence, he couldn't save one of his own from the dark, brutal world they had all chosen to live in.

Chanyeol's grief manifested in cold, calculated detachment. Outwardly, he was the same powerful, unflinching Don, handling the affairs of the mafia with his usual efficiency and ruthlessness. But inside, there was a war raging—an emotional storm he buried deep under layers of duty and expectation.

Each time he stepped into his office, the weight of Minseok's absence loomed heavy. The empty chair where Minseok once sat during meetings was a constant reminder of what had been lost. Every time he passed it, a tightness gripped his chest, but Chanyeol would keep walking, forcing himself not to falter. In private, however, that tightness grew unbearable.

Night after night, Chanyeol would find himself staring into a glass of whiskey, his mind haunted by thoughts of what he could have done differently. Should he have acted faster? Should he have made a different decision in that moment in Hell? The questions circled endlessly, and no amount of alcohol could numb the nagging guilt.

Baekhyun was one of the few who could sense Chanyeol's internal battle. He noticed how his boyfriend grew more distant, even though Chanyeol tried to mask it behind a veil of strength. Chanyeol's eyes, once alive with determination and fire, had dimmed, their gaze often drifting to places Baekhyun couldn't follow. Despite his best efforts, Baekhyun felt Chanyeol slipping away from him, consumed by the weight of what had transpired.

The once intimate moments between them became shorter, more strained. Chanyeol would hold Baekhyun in bed, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in the fog of regret. He'd wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, replaying the image of Minseok's lifeless body in that cell over and over again. Each time he closed his eyes, the scene replayed itself: Minseok on the floor, the blood. It was suffocating.

Work became Chanyeol's escape. He poured himself into every detail, every operation, every deal. He led raids with more intensity than ever before, barking orders with a sharpness that made even the most hardened soldiers uneasy. His rage simmered just beneath the surface, and it was clear to everyone in the family that their Don was teetering on the edge.

He wasn't just fighting his own demons—Chanyeol was also battling to maintain his authority. The Mafia thrived on power and fear, and any sign of weakness could be disastrous. If his men ever caught wind of his emotional turmoil, it would open doors to doubt, and in the world they lived in, doubt could be deadly.

So Chanyeol put on a mask. He attended meetings with Consigliere Heechul, and Underboss Sehun. Nodded through updates from Capo Hawk, Capo Jongin, and Capo Hector, and made appearances at every important gathering. But behind the mask, the grief lingered like a shadow, creeping into every quiet moment.

When Sehun returned from Singapore back then, things grew even more difficult. Sehun's grief for Minseok was raw, open, and loud—he wasn't afraid to show his devastation. He broke down in Chanyeol's office, crying openly about the loss of his brother in arm, and Chanyeol, for the first time in a long while, felt the cracks in his armor widen.

Sehun's grief became a reflection of everything Chanyeol couldn't allow himself to feel. Watching his Underboss sob was like watching his own pain unfold in someone else's body, and Chanyeol struggled to maintain his composure. The cold, controlled Don found it difficult to look Sehun in the eye, and every word of comfort he tried to offer felt hollow, insincere.

But Sehun's breakdown also made Chanyeol realize something crucial. The Mafia was built on loyalty, on bonds stronger than blood, and if he didn't find a way to move forward—not just for himself, but for the men who still looked up to him—he would lose more than just Minseok. He would lose control of everything he had fought to build.

Chanyeol began visiting Hell more frequently. Not to punish prisoners or oversee their usual make-the -bone test, but to stand before Minseok's empty cell, where the bloodstains had faded but the memory remained sharp. Each visit was a reminder of what had been lost, but also a way for Chanyeol to confront his grief directly. He would stand in that cold, dark place for hours, alone, searching for answers he knew he would never find.

Eventually, the visits became part of his mourning process. He wouldn't cry or break down—he couldn't afford that—but he allowed himself to feel the weight of Minseok's death fully, if only for a few moments.

It took time, but slowly, Chanyeol began to accept that Minseok's death, as tragic as it was, could not undo everything he had built. The Mafia demanded sacrifice, and as its leader, Chanyeol had made the ultimate sacrifice by letting go of someone he once trusted with his life. That loss would always stay with him, a scar he carried beneath his suit, but it didn't define him.

In the end, Chanyeol realized that moving on didn't mean forgetting Minseok, nor did it mean burying the grief forever. It meant finding a way to live with it, to carry it alongside everything else that came with being Don Park Chanyeol. It meant taking one step forward, no matter how heavy it felt, and knowing that even in the darkest moments, the Fire and Light Mafia family—and the people who depended on him—needed him to lead.

And so, Don Chanyeol continued to lead, with the memory of Minseok woven into every decision, every command. The pain didn't fade, but it became part of the legacy he carried, fueling his resolve to never let something like this happen again. Even if it meant hardening his heart a little more.

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Author's note 📝

😔💔

Swipe for next chapter ❤️ and thank you for your kind support.