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Location: Kim Estate

A   U   T  H   O   R  'S    P   O  V

The morning sun filtered through the vast floor-to-ceiling windows of the Kim estate, casting a golden glow over the grand interiors. Yet, despite the beauty of dawn breaking over the horizon, the air inside remained cold—silent, calculated, and perfectly controlled.

Kim Seokjin sat in the opulent lounge, his back straight, exuding authority even in the simplest of gestures. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored black silk robe, the delicate fabric draping over his broad shoulders, accentuating his lean yet powerful frame. His freshly showered skin smelled of expensive oud and sandalwood, a scent that lingered in the air, demanding attention without a single word.

In his hand, a steaming porcelain cup of tea rested, untouched for now. The fine china, imported from Europe, was just another symbol of his refined taste—nothing in Seokjin’s world was ordinary. Even the tea, a rare blend handpicked from the high mountains of Jeju, was brewed to perfection, its aroma crisp and earthy.

His other hand held a sleek black tablet, fingers effortlessly scrolling through the latest business headlines. His eyes, dark and unreadable, scanned the words with a sharp focus that could unnerve even the most seasoned businessmen.

Each headline was a report of fluctuating stocks, mergers, and acquisitions—nothing unexpected, nothing that posed a challenge. The economy moved exactly how he anticipated, bending to his predictions like a well-played game of chess.

But then, one article made his movements pause.

"Kim Namjoon: The New Generation Leader Shaping the Future of Business."

The title alone was enough to pull his attention, but it was the accompanying image that made his grip tighten subtly around the tablet.

Namjoon stood tall, dressed in a sharply cut navy-blue suit, exuding confidence and raw power. The shot was perfectly composed—his strong jawline, the proud lift of his chin, and the piercing intelligence in his gaze. There was no doubt that Namjoon commanded the room, the article painting him as a force to be reckoned with.

A slow, unreadable smirk played on Seokjin’s lips.

Kim Namjoon.

A name he had heard before, a man whose presence in the business world was growing at an impressive rate. He was not just another businessman trying to climb the ranks—he was someone the media had already crowned as the "next big thing."

Seokjin tilted his head slightly, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

Interesting.

Was Kim Namjoon a potential threat? Or merely another ambitious soul who would eventually fall in line like the rest?

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft but firm sound of approaching footsteps.

Thud.....

A thick black file was dropped onto the coffee table in front of him.

Seokjin slowly lifted his gaze, meeting the knowing smirk of Kim Taehyung.

"Explain," Seokjin said, his voice calm, but the weight of authority in his tone was unmistakable.

Taehyung took his time, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tailored black slacks. His presence was effortless yet commanding—like a shadow that existed alongside Seokjin, one that moved when needed and disappeared when not.

“We have a pest,” Taehyung murmured, nodding toward the file. “A journalist. Been lurking around for weeks, digging into things he shouldn’t.”

Seokjin’s expression remained unreadable as he reached for the file, flipping it open.

Inside, a neatly compiled report detailed the life of Jung Daeyong, an investigative journalist known for exposing corporate corruption. There were images of him taken from surveillance, notes on his movements, even transcripts of his conversations.

Everything about him was laid out in perfect, clinical detail.

Seokjin’s fingers tapped lightly against the page.

"And?"

"He’s preparing to release something big,” Taehyung continued. “He's convinced he has proof of our dealings, and he’s planning a press conference later today.”

Seokjin exhaled slowly, closing the file with a soft click.

For a long moment, silence filled the room.

Then, without breaking his calm demeanor, Seokjin reached for his phone.

Dialed a number.

Brought it to his ear.

And when the call connected, his voice was smooth—effortless, yet laced with an undeniable chill.

"Prepare to take care of a pest," he murmured. "I’ll send you the details."

A deep chuckle echoed from the other end of the call.

"Consider it done."

Seokjin placed the phone down gently, the weight of his decision already set in stone.

His eyes flickered back to the tablet, once again landing on Namjoon’s face in the magazine.

A slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips.

One nuisance at a time.

----

Location: Conference Hall

The grand conference hall was packed with reporters, photographers, and media personnel, all waiting eagerly for what was promised to be a groundbreaking revelation. The air buzzed with anticipation, the rhythmic clicking of cameras echoing through the space as the journalists murmured among themselves, their curiosity piqued.

At the center of the stage stood Jung Daeyong, the man of the hour—a journalist whose reputation for exposing corporate corruption had made him both respected and feared. Today, he was poised to take down the biggest name yet: Kim Seokjin.

The weight of his findings sat heavily in the USB drive in his pocket, his fingers brushing against it every few seconds as if to reassure himself that it was still there. He had spent months gathering evidence, following trails of fraudulent transactions, offshore accounts, and illegal dealings—all leading back to the empire of Kim Seokjin.

This was his moment.

Daeyong adjusted his tie, clearing his throat as he stepped up to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here today.” His voice was steady, but his hands trembled slightly as he pulled out a stack of documents. “What I am about to reveal will shake the very foundation of the business world. The evidence I have uncovered will expose one of the most powerful men in this country—”

The doors to the hall suddenly swung open.

All heads turned.

A group of men in sharp, tailored suits strode in as if they owned the place. They didn’t rush, didn’t make a scene—yet their presence alone sent a wave of unease rippling through the room. The sheer confidence in their steps, the way the crowd instinctively moved aside to make way for them, spoke volumes.

At the center of them all was Jung Hoseok.

His crisp Black  suit, tailored to perfection, contrasted against the dark atmosphere of the conference. His face, sculpted with the ease of a man who never knew failure, held a polite smile that never quite reached his eyes. A silver watch gleamed on his wrist as he adjusted his cufflinks, the slight smirk on his lips hinting at the game already in motion.

Daeyong stiffened. He knew who this man was.

Kim Seokjin’s Public Relations Specialist.

The room hushed as Hoseok approached the podium with unshakable confidence, motioning for Daeyong to step aside.

“Forgive the interruption,” Hoseok said, his voice as smooth as silk. “But before we indulge in any baseless accusations, I believe it is my duty to ensure the truth prevails.”

A murmur spread across the hall.

Daeyong clenched his fists. “What are you—”

Hoseok raised a hand, silencing him effortlessly before gesturing toward his own team.

One of the suited men stepped forward, holding up a file—one that bore Daeyong’s own name.

“I regret to inform everyone,” Hoseok continued, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that the man standing before you has been diagnosed with severe paranoid delusions.”

Gasps erupted.

Daeyong’s breath hitched.

“What…?” His voice barely left his lips.

Hoseok didn’t pause, flipping open the file. “Medical records, signed by professionals, detailing his history of hallucinations and fabricated conspiracy theories.”

The papers were held up for the cameras to capture, journalists snapping photos of the ‘evidence’ presented before them.

Sweat formed at Daeyong’s temples. “This—This is fake!”

But Hoseok merely tilted his head, offering a practiced look of pity. “It’s unfortunate, really. His condition worsened after he lost his wife last year in an accident. Grief can do terrible things to a man’s mind.”

Daeyong’s eyes widened. “You—”

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “You claim to have evidence against Kim Seokjin, yet not a single reputable organization has backed your claims. You say you have proof, yet it conveniently never surfaces.” He glanced at the reporters. “Ladies and gentlemen, is this the kind of man we should be listening to?”

Whispers spread through the crowd.

Doubt seeped in.

Daeyong felt his world begin to crumble. “This is a lie! Everything I found is real!” He reached into his pocket, desperate to pull out the USB—his final piece of truth.

But before he could, a sudden commotion erupted at the back of the hall.

A team of men in white medical coats stormed in, their expressions grim.

“We’ve come to escort Mr. Jung Daeyong to the psychiatric ward.”

Daeyong’s blood ran cold.

“No… No, no, no!” He tried to back away, but the men moved fast, gripping his arms. “I’m not insane! This is a setup! They’re lying to you!”

The cameras continued flashing.

The journalists continued murmuring.

But not a single soul stepped forward to stop what was happening.

Hoseok let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as if this entire scene was just a tragic misunderstanding.

"Take him away," he said, turning on his heels.

Daeyong screamed as he was dragged toward the exit, his voice drowned beneath the murmurs of the crowd. His evidence—his truth—was stolen from his grasp, the USB snatched by one of the men before he even realized it.

And just like that, his career was over.

By the time he was forced into the waiting ambulance, his fate was already sealed.

Inside the hall, Hoseok straightened his jacket, glancing around with a satisfied smirk.

Then, without another word, he walked out, leaving behind nothing but whispers of doubt and the undeniable disgrace of a man who once dared to challenge Kim Seokjin.

-----

Location: Moon Restaurant and Resort

The dimly lit restaurant exuded elegance, the soft glow of chandeliers casting golden hues over the polished mahogany tables.

Kim Seokjin sat in a private booth, his fingers drumming lightly against the pristine white tablecloth, a glass of whiskey untouched before him. The air smelled of expensive wine and freshly prepared dishes, yet none of it piqued his interest.

Across from him sat a woman—his supposed fiancée-to-be.

Park Hawoon.

She was beautiful, poised, the perfect daughter of a conglomerate family. Dressed in a designer dress that hugged her slender frame, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who had been raised in wealth and power.

Seokjin, however, felt nothing.

He wasn't here for love or companionship. He was here because his uncle—Kim Taehyung's father—had orchestrated this meeting, hoping to merge the two powerful families through marriage.

Hayeon took a sip of her wine, studying him with sharp eyes. "You don't seem very interested, Mr. Kim," she remarked, her tone laced with amusement.

Seokjin offered a small smirk, swirling his whiskey in the glass. "I don't do forced relationships," he said simply. "But business is business."

She chuckled, crossing her legs. "Honest. I like that."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, discussing surface-level matters—corporate expansion, stocks, the illusion of a perfect union. The entire conversation felt mechanical, devoid of any real intrigue.

Then, his patience ran thin.

"If you’ll excuse me," Seokjin said, pushing back his chair. "I need to step out for a moment."

Without waiting for a response, he rose from his seat, adjusting his cufflinks as he made his way toward the restroom.

But just as he turned a corner—BAM!

A small body crashed into him, nearly knocking over his glass of whiskey. Seokjin’s sharp eyes snapped downward, a scowl already forming on his lips.

A little girl stood before him, looking up with wide, startled eyes. She had long, dark hair tied into two braids and wore a simple yet elegant dress. The way she pouted slightly as she scrambled backward in a panic reminded him of an annoyed kitten.

"I-I’m sorry!" the girl blurted out, bowing quickly. "I wasn’t looking where I was going!"

Seokjin narrowed his gaze. He didn't believe in coincidences. And he certainly had no patience for children.

"Watch where you’re going next time," he said coldly, voice laced with irritation. "Do you even know who you just bumped into?"

The girl swallowed nervously, her small hands clutching the hem of her dress. "I—I said I was sorry!"

Seokjin exhaled, already irritated from the dinner. He had no interest in playing kind to an undisciplined child. He took a step forward, his presence towering over the little girl as he prepared to teach her a lesson in manners—

But before he could speak—

" KIM JISOO!"

A female voice, soft yet commanding, called out.

A moment later, a young woman rushed over, her expression filled with exasperation and worry. Seokjin’s sharp eyes flickered to her as she grabbed the little girl’s ear and pulled it lightly.

"How many times have I told you to be careful?" she scolded, her tone frustrated but gentle. "You can’t just run around like this!"

The little girl—Kim Jisoo—whimpered. "Oww, unnie! I already said sorry!"

The woman sighed, finally looking up—and that’s when their eyes met.

Seokjin froze.

For the first time in years, he felt something other than apathy.

The woman before him was breathtaking, but not in the artificial way most women he encountered were. She was real.

Her long, silky hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that was both delicate and fierce. Her soft features were contrasted by sharp, intelligent eyes that held a warmth he had never seen before. Unlike the women in his world, whose smiles were laced with hidden agendas, hers was genuine.

And for the first time in his life, Kim Seokjin felt something shift in his dead heart.

A strange, unfamiliar emotion settled in his chest. His pulse quickened. The air felt different, heavier, charged with something he couldn't understand.

Was it recognition?

Or something else entirely?

Dayeun bowed deeply, unaware of his internal conflict. "I sincerely apologize for my sister’s recklessness, Mister..."

Her voice was polite, but there was no fear in her tone. Unlike others who trembled in his presence, she met his gaze without flinching.

Seokjin couldn't look away.

Who are you?

Before he could say anything, Dayeun gently grabbed Jisoo’s wrist. "Come on, let’s go. Minseo is waiting for us."

With that, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the restaurant crowd.

Seokjin remained still.

His hands, usually steady, twitched slightly. His heartbeat was erratic. His mind, always sharp, was suddenly clouded.

He had met thousands of women. Had sat across from the most powerful people in the world. Had crushed enemies without breaking a sweat.

But this woman…

Why did she feel different?

He clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist. This was nothing. A momentary lapse in composure. Nothing more.

And yet, as he walked back to his table, the world around him felt strangely… altered.

For the first time, Kim Seokjin had met someone he couldn’t ignore.

----

Deep beneath the lavish halls of the Kim estate, far removed from the world above, existed a place untouched by light, untouched by mercy. It was not built for redemption, nor for repentance. It was a tomb—a prison for those who made the mistake of crossing Kim Seokjin.

And tonight, Jung Daeyong was its newest resident.

Bound to a chair with thick ropes biting into his bruised wrists, Daeyong’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. His once-pristine dress shirt was torn and soaked with sweat, dirt clinging to the fabric like the remnants of a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. His fingers twitched uselessly against the restraints, nails scraping against the cold wood as though he could claw his way out of this living hell.

The air was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of old blood and despair. A single dim light flickered above, casting long, monstrous shadows against the damp, concrete walls. The silence pressed down on him like a noose, every second stretching into eternity.

And then—footsteps.

Measured. Slow. Unrushed.

A figure emerged from the darkness, his presence coiling through the room like smoke—silent, lethal, inescapable.

Min Yoongi.

The hitman of the Kim family.

The enforcer who ensured that problems did not exist long enough to become threats.

Dressed in a black coat that dusted the floor with every step, he moved like a shadow, his expression unreadable, almost bored. His dark eyes flickered over Daeyong’s trembling form with neither pity nor amusement—just quiet calculation.

In his gloved hand, a knife.

It wasn’t large, nor was it particularly extravagant. But in Yoongi’s hands, it was more than enough.

With an absent flick of his wrist, he twirled the blade between his fingers, the silver catching the dim light, gleaming with a promise unspoken. A predator toying with his prey.

Daeyong’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He knew who Min Yoongi was. Everyone in the underbelly of Seoul did. He was the man who never left evidence. The man who had taken countless lives without ever leaving a trace of his own existence behind.

A ghost.

A myth.

And yet, here he was—as real as the cold terror sinking into Daeyong’s bones.

"P-Please…" Daeyong whimpered, his voice cracking. "I—I have a family…"

Yoongi stilled. For a brief moment, the only sound was the faint dripping of water somewhere in the distance.

Then, a smirk curled at the edge of the hitman’s lips.

"You should’ve thought of them before going against Kim Seokjin." He said.

The words, though spoken softly, landed like a death sentence.

Daeyong flinched, his chest heaving as panic clawed at his throat. He could barely feel his fingers anymore, numb from both the ropes and the ice-cold realization that there was no way out.

And then—another set of footsteps.

These were different.

Sharper.

Purposeful.

And the moment they echoed through the chamber, the atmosphere shifted.

A presence far heavier than Yoongi’s filled the room, wrapping around Daeyong’s throat like an invisible chokehold.

Kim Seokjin.

He stepped forward, his impeccably tailored three-piece suit unbothered by the filth of the room, his every movement radiating an aura of absolute control. The gold cufflinks at his wrists caught the dim light as he adjusted his sleeves, his polished leather shoes clicking against the floor as he stopped just inches from the trembling journalist.

But he did not look at him.

Not at first.

His gaze was elsewhere, distant, as though the pathetic creature before him was nothing more than an insect to be crushed underfoot.

Finally, after a long pause, Seokjin exhaled softly.

"End this."

A simple command.

Effortless.

Final.

Yoongi merely tilted his head, his fingers tightening around the handle of the knife as he took a single step forward.

Daeyong gasped, a broken sound of pure, unfiltered fear.

But Seokjin was already turning away.

With the same unhurried grace with which he had entered, he walked toward the door, his presence fading into the dim light as he left the room without ever sparing the journalist another glance.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And then—A scream.

Muffled. Brief.

Then—silence.

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[  T   i   m   e     S   k   i   p  ]

Outside, the cold night air wrapped around Seokjin like a cloak, the scent of metal and damp stone fading into the background as he made his way toward the waiting car. The sleek black vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, the tinted windows concealing the world of power and secrets within.

Jaebeom stood beside the car, his posture rigid, his sharp gaze unwavering as Seokjin approached. He opened the door smoothly, allowing his employer to slide into the backseat, the plush leather molding against his form.

As the car purred to life, Seokjin leaned back, exhaling slowly. The cityscape blurred past the tinted glass, the neon lights of Seoul painting the streets in artificial hues.

"Any updates?" he asked casually, as though discussing nothing more than a routine business deal.

Jaebeom, ever the loyal shadow, nodded. "We’re gathering information on Kim Namjoon as we speak."

At the mention of the name, something flickered in Seokjin’s eyes.

Interest.

Intrigue.

And something far darker.

He smirked, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest as thoughts shifted like pieces on a chessboard.

"Good," he murmured, voice carrying the weight of an impending storm.

Kim Namjoon.

A rising name in the business world. A man whose influence was steadily growing, whose presence had begun to loom like a threat.

If Namjoon was foolish enough to stand in his way…

He would soon learn.

No one challenged a tyrant and lived to tell the tale.

However, before the conversation could end, his gaze flickered toward Jaebeom once more.

"One more thing," he said smoothly, his tone devoid of warmth.

Jaebeom immediately straightened. "Yes, sir?"

Seokjin’s eyes darkened.

"Find me the list of every single name that attended the restaurant tonight.", He Demanded.

Jaebeom’s brows furrowed slightly, surprised by the sudden request. "The restaurant, sir?"

"The one where I met with Park Hawoon."

Jaebeom hesitated only for a second before nodding. "Understood. May I ask if there’s anything specific you’re looking for?"

Seokjin’s jaw clenched slightly, his gaze flickering toward the tinted window.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for.

But for the first time in a long time—

Something had unsettled him.

A presence.

A face.

A fleeting moment—Her...

His fingers tightened slightly before he forced himself to relax.

It didn’t matter.

"Find the list. I want names, backgrounds, and affiliations." He said.

Jaebeom bowed his head. "I’ll have the report on your desk by morning."

Seokjin smirked, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"Perfect."

As the city lights blurred past the window, the feeling in his chest refused to subside.

For years, he had ruled with an iron grip, a heart untouched by distractions.

But tonight…

Something has changed.....

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🤍 TO BE CONTINUED 🤍

Thoughts on Chapter 3

This chapter gave us deeper insight into Seokjin’s ruthless mindset, his cold control over everything, and yet... we see the first crack in his armor. The moment he sees HER , there’s a shift. He doesn’t know why, but she’s already inside his head.

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