A black Lamborghini tore through the streets of Seoul, its engine growling like a beast unleashed. The city lights blurred past in streaks of gold and red, but Jeongguk barely noticed. His hands were steady on the wheel, his jaw set, his mind consumed by a singular thought.

Kim Taehyung.

The name burned like a brand in his chest, a mixture of obsession, fury, and something else—something darker, something he refused to name.

His fingers flexed around the steering wheel as he pressed the accelerator, the car slicing through the night like a predator on the hunt.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

Jeongguk pushed through the doors of Poison Ivy, the scent of expensive liquor and cigarette smoke wrapping around him like a second skin. The music pulsed in his veins, the crowd swaying, bodies pressed together in sin and secrecy.

But he wasn't here for the crowd.

His sharp eyes scanned the dimly lit club, flickering over familiar faces, dismissing them just as fast. His focus was singular.

And then—there.

Kim Taehyung.

Leaning against the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, looking just as untouchable as the night they met. His wine-red shirt was unbuttoned just enough to tease, his dark mask discarded, exposing sharp cheekbones and a gaze that could ruin.

Jeongguk exhaled, slow.

Then he walked toward him.

Jeongguk didn't approach from the front.

Instead, he moved silently, weaving through the bodies in the club, positioning himself behind Taehyung. Close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from him. Close enough that if he leaned in just slightly, his breath would ghost against the shell of Taehyung's ear.

Taehyung, sharp as ever, didn't turn around immediately.

But Jeongguk saw it—the way his grip on the whiskey glass tightened for half a second, the slight shift of his posture. He knew. He felt him.

Still, he didn't react.

So Jeongguk took another step closer.

And then, in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the music, he murmured—

"You didn't stab deep enough."

Taehyung finally turned his head, just slightly, just enough for Jeongguk to see the smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh?" Taehyung mused, taking a slow sip of his drink. "And here I thought I was being generous."

Jeongguk let out a quiet chuckle, dark and amused. "Generous?" He leaned in, his voice dropping lower. "You call that a warning or a missed opportunity?"

Taehyung tilted his head, eyes gleaming under the dim club lights. "Depends." He turned fully now, facing Jeongguk head-on, bodies almost brushing. "Are you still breathing?"

Jeongguk smirked. "Barely."

Taehyung chuckled, swirling his drink lazily. "Then I guess I was being merciful."

Jeongguk's jaw ticked, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. The wound in his side still ached, but not nearly as much as the fire that burned in his veins.

He should have walked away.

But instead, he leaned in closer, their breaths mixing, eyes locked in a battle of wills.

"Do it again, then," Jeongguk murmured. "And this time, either kill me—" his voice dropped to a whisper, dark and daring—"or fucking kiss me."

Taehyung's smirk didn't falter, but something flickered in his gaze—something sharp, something dangerous. He set his glass down with deliberate ease, tilting his head as if considering Jeongguk's challenge.

Then, with infuriating slowness, he leaned in.

Jeongguk didn't move. Didn't flinch. His body coiled tight like a predator ready to strike, but his lips parted slightly, his breath shallow, waiting—just waiting.

Taehyung stopped a hair's breadth away, his lips ghosting over Jeongguk's, teasing but never touching. "You always this reckless, Jeon?" he murmured, his voice dripping amusement, yet laced with something heavier.

Jeongguk's fingers twitched, aching to grab him, to pull him in, to force him into something neither of them could take back. "Only when I know it'll be worth it."

Taehyung exhaled a quiet chuckle, his breath warm against Jeongguk's lips. "Oh, you poor thing."

Then—swift, precise—Taehyung's hand pressed lightly over Jeongguk's wound, just enough pressure to make him suck in a sharp breath. Not enough to hurt, not really, but enough to remind him exactly who had put him in that position.

Jeongguk clenched his jaw, eyes blazing.

Taehyung leaned even closer, lips nearly grazing Jeongguk's ear. "You think you want this." His fingers traced the edge of Jeongguk's suit, light, almost gentle. "But I don't play fair."

Jeongguk let out a slow, humorless laugh. "Neither do I."

Taehyung pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, his smirk widening. "Then I suppose this will be fun."

And just like that, he stepped away, leaving Jeongguk standing there, pulse hammering, wound throbbing, and a smirk of his own creeping onto his lips.

If Taehyung didn't want to play fair, neither would Jeongguk.

With this thought, he turned on his heel and strode out of the club, his mind whirring, his pulse still thrumming from the ghost of Taehyung's touch. He didn't glance back. Didn't hesitate.

The black Lamborghini roared to life the moment he slid into the driver's seat, the engine growling like the beast inside him. His fingers gripped the wheel, knuckles white, and he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus.

This wasn't just obsession anymore. It wasn't just a reckless infatuation with a forbidden enemy.

This was a game.

And Jeongguk had never been one to lose.

With a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, he pressed down on the accelerator, the car tearing through the streets of Seoul, heading straight back to his mansion.

--

The bomb was dropped a few days later.

Taehyung was in the middle of an important drug deal, deep in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, the air thick with the scent of gasoline and greed. His men stood tense but composed, surrounding him like a wall of steel. The deal was going smoothly—until it wasn't.

The first sign was the eerie silence. The second was the sudden flicker of movement in the darkness.

And then—gunfire.

A brutal ambush.

Jeon Jeongguk's men stormed the warehouse, bullets tearing through the air, sending Taehyung's allies scrambling for cover. The crates of expensive product—millions worth in drugs—were destroyed, shredded by a storm of bullets and fire.

This was unexpected. Unheard of.

For years, the Kims and Jeons had danced around each other in a delicate, unspoken truce—never crossing into each other's businesses, never provoking full-scale war. Their families had been rivals for generations, but they had long learned that peace, even an uneasy one, was necessary to avoid total annihilation.

And yet—Jeongguk had broken that silent agreement.

Deliberately. Publicly.

Taehyung stood amid the wreckage, his crimson suit marred with dust and blood, watching his empire take a hit.

His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into fists.

So, Jeongguk wanted to play dirty?

Fine.

Then he would see just how much of a monster a Kim could be.

Taehyung decided.

If Jeongguk wanted war, then war he would get.

The silent truce was shattered, and now, all bets were off. The Jeons had dared to touch what was his—humiliated him, destroyed his deal, cost him millions. And Jeongguk had made sure Taehyung knew exactly who was behind it.

It wasn't just an attack. It was a declaration.

Taehyung's grip tightened around the blood-stained cuff of his sleeve. His heartbeat was steady, but rage simmered beneath the surface, cold and controlled. He would retaliate, strike where it hurt. If Jeongguk thought he could break the rules and walk away unscathed, he was sorely mistaken.

But first—

First, he needed to see Jeongguk.

Because this?

This wasn't just business anymore.

This was fucking personal.

Jeongguk hadn't just sabotaged a deal—he had humiliated Taehyung, sent a message loud and clear. And now, Taehyung would respond.

He adjusted the cuffs of his wine-red suit, the very same color Jeongguk had once stared at like he was seeing sin itself. The memory burned, but not as much as the rage curling through his veins.

Fine. If Jeongguk wanted a fight, Taehyung would give him one.

He pulled out his phone, dialing a number.

"Find out where Jeon Jeongguk is," he ordered, voice cold. "I don't care what it takes—I need to see him. Now."

A few minutes later, Taehyung received Jeongguk's current whereabouts.

God. The boy wasn't even hiding.

It was almost insulting. Like Jeongguk wanted him to come. Like he was daring Taehyung to show up.

Taehyung scoffed, slipping his gun into the holster beneath his suit.

Fine. He'd play this game.

And when he saw Jeon Jeongguk again, he'd make sure the bastard understood exactly what it meant to cross a Kim.