𝐏 𝐎 𝐕
♤ | 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

Blood always looks darker under neon. That was the first thing I noticed stepping into the meat locker of a warehouse. The slick sheen of red pooling across a concrete floor, the harsh light making every drop look like oil.

He was still alive.  My men held him upright, hands twisted behind his back, knees dragging like dead weight. Cuts scored across his face, one eye already sealed shut with swelling. He wasn't trembling anymore. That had ended twenty minutes ago, when fear finally boiled into pain.

Seokmin-my right hand man, moved aside as I crossed the room, my shoes soundless against the damp. Even the air felt heavier in my presence. The only other noise was his breathing full of promises he had no power to keep.

"You know why you're here," I murmured standing in front of him. He struggled to look up at me, lips trembling, but he never quite met my gaze. Smart enough to recognize the predator standing over him. "You thought you could skim shipments, feed my routes to my rivals, and disappear into some rat hole downtown, you thought wrong." His mouth worked uselessly, a breathless whimper dying in his throat. "You forgot one thing." I bent slowly, savoring the way his body tensed like an animal sensing the snap of a trap. "You forgot that in this world," I whispered, "nothing moves unless I say so."

My gloved hand closed around his chin firm enough to bruise, just gentle enough to make him hope there might still be mercy. "There isn't," I added with a faint, humorless smile.

Seokmin already had the pistol waiting for me, polished and perfect. I didn't look at him as I took it. The weight was familiar, a promise of order, of control. "Betrayal," I told him calmly, "isn't a sin. It's a declaration of war."

The silence that followed was heavy. It wasn't regret I saw on his face, it was realization. Seokmin stepped forward and placed the gun in my hand like a ritual. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't hesitate. I shot straight through his leg and then arm so that he doesn't die. He slumped to the floor with screaming in pain, crimson regret spreading across the concrete. I handed the gun back to Seokmin and got the gloves off my hand.

"Burn him alive," I finally said.

No one hesitated. Fuel splashed across crates of rotten cargo, fire catching like a starved thing. In the heat of it, my men moved like ghosts. He screamed for mercy but guess what? I don't even know the meaning of mercy. By the time we stepped into the SUV idling outside, the warehouse was a torch lighting up the New York skyline.

And me?

I felt nothing but the cold hum of satisfaction in my bones. These fucking betrayers always beg at the end. Doesn't matter how loud they talked before in the dark, they all fold the same. The SUV's engine hummed low, gliding through the night like a predator with nowhere left to hunt. The warehouse behind us burned hotter than judgment, casting gold across the rearview mirror.

Seokmin slipped into the passenger seat while the driver into driving seat. I leaned back, undoing the top button of my shirt. My gloves lay folded beside me like relics from a ceremony only I survived.

You know, they always think it's about the money. But money's just a tool. Power is the drug and I sell the purest kind. There's no such thing as legal at the top. Everything clean is dipped in dirt. Laundered, masked, repackaged for the public. 

I started my business with drugs. Small ports. Hidden in rice shipments. I let them cook meth in abandoned schools. Cocaine through shipping containers. Fentanyl laced in vitamin bottles. That was just the beginning and I didn't knew I would get too far in it. Then came weapons. Not your back-alley pistols. I'm talking stolen tanks, prototype rifles, American bio-tech sold to African rebels through Middle Eastern brokers. They pay in diamonds. In blood and much more unholy works I have ever done.

Then there's my tech business. My clean side. My mask. My company have routes almost all over the world and we provide people with best AI systems but guess what? I use this business with my dark side too. I hack law enforcement networks for fun. Spy on politicians through the cameras they installed themselves. Feed them lies until they choke on their own truths. They are all my puppets. They do what I order and never dare to say anything. The ones who say pay.

I have blackmail on the Minister of Justice. A senator's son who kills girls. Three CEOs caught with ten-year-olds. One judge who lets my shipments pass because I know where his real daughter lives. Black-market weapons, surveillance abuse, identity theft, organ harvesting, nuclear tech auctions, assassinations dressed as suicides—name a crime, and I don't just fund it. I invented half the systems and the best thing, everyone sees me as a young and successful buisnessman.

(I am sorry if I have gone too far but it's just fiction right? Trust me I am not supporting these things instead this story is against these people, don't misunderstand😭)

As we reached our dear destination, the gates of my New York estate opened like the jaws of something ancient but hungering. The mansion rose behind them in silent worship, black stone and gold glass catching the firelight still flickering in the sky behind us.

Seokmin stepped out first, eyes scanning the dark like a watchdog off its leash. Then, without a word, he opened my door. I stepped out slow, controlled, the heat of rage still cooling in my bones.

I walked up the hallway onto the stairs. My footsteps echoed up the marble stairs. Inside, the hallway lights triggered with motion. Paintings I didn't care for lined the walls. Statues imported from dead kingdoms stood guard at every turn. I didn't stop. Not until I reached my room.

My sanctuary.

Brushed steel. Cold glass. Jet black marble. The kind of luxury that didn't beg to be admired. It expected to be obeyed. I stripped off my coat, tossed it on the chaise without care, and headed for the shower. Steam swallowed the mirrors as I turned on the hot water.  Later after getting bath, wrapped in a night robe—unbuttoned halfway, I stepped out onto the balcony. The city below bowed under my silence. For sometime I let cold air seep into my body before I got a call. I answered.

The voice on the other end trembled. "Sir... it's Seoul. One of our primary facilities was hit. They left nothing standing." My eyes widened, veins popping out in anger.

"What?" I yelled.

"Explosives. Fire. Security footage wiped. Every route, shipment, list—gone. Everything's torched."

Silence. And then the scream left me before I realized it. My robe whipped behind me as I stormed across the room. A vase hit the wall. Then the lamp. Then the tray of whiskey I hadn't touched in weeks.

"GET SEOKMIN. NOW." Footsteps echoed with panic. Doors opening as everyone ran to gather.

Seokmin rushed in, breath caught. "Boss—"

"WHO DID THIS?" I snarled. "WHO HAD THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO TOUCH MY THINGS?"

Another phone tossed to me. Live feed from Seoul. Ashes, blackened steel, the insignia of my empire curling in flame.

I don't care about the money. I don't care about the loss. I care that someone forgot who I am.

I turned slowly, veins coiled under my skin like fire waiting to explode. My voice dropped low. "Tell the pilots to ready the jet. I want to be in Korea before dawn."

"Yes, boss."

"And if we find out who did this..." I looked down at my shattered phone screen, still glowing with the ruins of Seoul. "...I'm not burning their body." I raised my eyes. "I'm burning their bloodline."

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