Kangwon leaned forward slightly, cigarette now crushed between his fingers, his gaze never leaving the scene beyond the windshield — where Minjae stood, breath heavy, gun still raised, but eyes already scanning the treeline.
"Minjae was always like that," Kangwon muttered, more to himself than Haemin. "Stubborn. Cold to the world. But underneath all that... he still had a soft heart. Dangerous man, but still bleeding for the wrong people."
Haemin cocked an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Jihoon and his saintly mother?"
Kangwon's lips curled into something bitter. "They took him in. Polished him. Gave him a home I never could. If he hadn't ended up with them first… if I had found him earlier, before the guilt, before he learned how to 'care'—"
He scoffed, eyes narrowing. "We could've been a real family. My kind of family."
Haemin let the silence sit for a moment, then smirked sideways.
"You're not mad that he left, Kangwon. You're mad that I got to sleep with him and you didn't."
Kangwon didn't respond, but something flickered violently in his eyes. His jaw clenched.
Haemin giggled, tilting his head, pink strands falling over one eye. "Don't get too happy about it. Yeah, we had sex. And sure, he's pretty, good body, moves like he means it…"
He paused, expression dimming.
"But he didn't care. Not once. Not even a little."
Kangwon turned his head toward him slowly.
Haemin's voice lost its amusement for a moment. "I've had lovers cry in my arms. Beg to stay. But Minjae? He just stared at the ceiling like I didn't exist. Like he was already somewhere else."
He tapped a finger on the window, eyes now following Minjae from a distance.
"I got bored. But if you're planning to ruin him?"
Haemin turned back to Kangwon, eyes gleaming now.
"I'd help you. Not for love. Not for loyalty. Just for fun."
Kangwon stared at him, silent, calculating.
Then — for the first time in hours — he smiled. But it wasn't joy.
It was something colder.
"Then let's break him."
The wind had died.
Minjae stood in the center of the road, shoulders rising and falling with each breath, surrounded by bodies—groaning, hurt, but alive. His hand trembled slightly from the weight of the pistol, the stinging burn of old scars and new fury tightening through his muscles.
And then—
"Minjae!"
His heart stopped.
He spun around in horror, just in time to see the car door swing open and Jihoon sprinting out across the road toward him.
"NO—!" Minjae shouted, voice cracking as he lunged forward. "JIHOON, STAY BACK!"
But it was too late.
A shot rang out.
The sound tore through the quiet like lightning splitting the sky.
Jihoon staggered mid-run, the bullet grazing his shoulder — not deep, but enough to knock him back with a cry of shock and pain as he hit the asphalt hard.
"JIHOON!" Minjae screamed, eyes wild.
He turned immediately, gun raised, tracking the origin of the shot—his body tense, ready to kill.
And then he saw him.
Kangwon.
Standing just a few paces away now, calmly emerging from the side of one of the black cars, gun still smoking in his hand. He lowered the weapon slowly, deliberate in every movement, like a predator stepping into the light for the first time.
He reached up with his free hand, pulled off his sunglasses, and tossed them lazily to the ground.
That smirk.
Like nothing had changed.
Like he had never left Minjae's nightmares.
"Well," Kangwon said coolly, eyes gleaming, "he really does love you, huh?"
Minjae didn't speak. He couldn't. His pulse thundered in his ears as he backed toward Jihoon's collapsed form, keeping his gun aimed at Kangwon with trembling precision.
Kangwon tilted his head. "Relax. It was just a warning shot. I'm not that cruel."
Minjae's voice came out low, raw. "You shot him."
"And yet you're still looking at me," Kangwon replied smoothly, stepping closer. "Funny, isn't it?"
Jihoon groaned behind Minjae, trying to sit up through the pain. "Min…jae…?"
Minjae didn't look away from Kangwon, his whole body shaking now—not from fear, but from rage. His voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"Put the gun down. Now."
Kangwon smiled wider.
"Why? You going to shoot me in front of your lover?" He raised a brow. "What would that make you, hyung? The man who left me... or the man who became me?"
Minjae's instincts screamed at him to run—to Jihoon, who lay crumpled on the pavement, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers.
But as he started to turn—
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a gun's safety being flicked off stopped him cold.
"Not so fast," Kangwon said from behind him, calm, almost casual.
Minjae froze. He didn't need to look to know — the barrel of Kangwon's pistol was now trained just behind his skull.
Jihoon, still conscious, eyes wide in panic, lifted his uninjured hand and weakly shook his head.
Don't move. Stay still. I'm okay. Just stay still.
Minjae's chest heaved, caught between instinct and reason, protection and rage.
"I should've emptied the clip into you when I had the chance," he said under his breath, his voice like a blade.
Behind him, he felt a shift in the air — and then warm breathghosted against the back of his neck. A chill traced his spine as Kangwon leaned in, slowly, intimately, until his mouth brushed against Minjae's ear.
His voice came in a whisper — soft, venomous.
"You still smell the same… rain, sweat, and lies."
Minjae's eyes shut for a moment, jaw clenching. He could feel the heat of Kangwon's body behind him, too close. Too familiar.
"You left me," Kangwon whispered, slower now. "Built yourself a new life… a prettier one. With an empire, a house, a car… with him."
His lips barely touched Minjae's ear.
"But deep down, you know none of that's real. It's all borrowed. He made you soft. But I made you survive."
Minjae didn't speak.
He could only stare at Jihoon—his eyes still on him, filled with fear but also trust.
And it broke something inside him.
Minjae's body trembled—not from fear, but from the helplessness clawing at his chest.
He didn't turn. He didn't dare move with the barrel still brushing the back of his head. But his voice broke through the tension, low and desperate.
"Please… Kangwon. Don't hurt him."
Silence.
Then a soft, incredulous chuckle behind him.
Until Kangwon's laughter rang out across the broken road like thunder.
He leaned closer, voice turning sharp, almost mocking.
"Please?" he echoed, as if tasting the word. "That's a new sound from you, Minjae."
Minjae didn't reply. His eyes stayed locked on Jihoon, who was trying to sit up, hand pressing harder against his bleeding shoulder, pale and struggling — but alive.
Kangwon's tone twisted into a low growl, the laughter suddenly gone.
"Look at me," he ordered, teeth gritted.
Minjae didn't move.
"LOOK AT ME!" Kangwon snapped, shoving him forward with the muzzle of the gun.
Minjae slowly turned his head over his shoulder — just enough to meet those dark, furious eyes.
Kangwon's expression was unreadable — somewhere between rage and heartbreak, his breath sharp, uneven.
"You begged for him," he said, voice trembling with something deeper than anger. "Not for yourself. Not for mercy. But for Jihoon."
Minjae's jaw tightened. "Because he's the only thing in this world worth saving."
And with that, something shattered behind Kangwon's gaze.
The hand holding the gun shook. His expression crumbled into something raw — wounded. Deep.
"So what does that make me?" he whispered. "What was I?"
Minjae swallowed, heart pounding. "You were my past, Kangwon. You saved me once, but I never belonged to you."
A bitter smile crept across Kangwon's face — wild and fractured.
"No," he said quietly, almost to himself. "But you should've."
The moment Kangwon's grip wavered —
Minjae moved.
In one swift, brutal motion, he snapped his arm up, knocking the barrel of the gun skyward just as it fired.
BANG!
The shot tore through the morning air and echoed into the forest, scattering birds from the treetops.
Minjae twisted around and slammed his shoulder into Kangwon's chest, tackling him to the ground with a sharp grunt. They hit the asphalt hard, fists flying, knees jamming into ribs. Minjae's gun clattered across the road, forgotten in the violence between them.
"You sick bastard!" Minjae snarled, swinging a punch that split Kangwon's lip. "You shot him!"
Kangwon let out a guttural growl, grabbing Minjae by the collar and flipping him over, knee pinning his chest.
"He made you weak!" Kangwon roared. "I made you strong!"
Minjae spit blood into his face. "You made me empty!"
They struggled, bodies twisting on the pavement — all rage and betrayal, fists and cracked knuckles. It wasn't a clean fight — it was personal. Messy. Feral. Years of unspoken war bleeding out through every strike.
And then—
BANG!
A second gunshot rang out, clean, deliberate, sharp.
Minjae's fist paused mid-air.
Kangwon's hand trembled, gripping the front of his shirt.
Their heads turned at the same time.
A short distance away, standing lazily beside one of the cars, Haeminheld a silver pistol loosely in one hand, the smoke still curling from the barrel. He'd fired into the sky.
His pink hair was tousled by the breeze, and his expression? Utterly unimpressed.
"You two," he said, cocking his head, "fight like children."
Minjae pushed Kangwon off with a shove, chest rising and falling. Kangwon wiped the blood from his mouth, eyes still burning with a storm of something more than just anger.
Haemin clicked his tongue and slowly walked toward them, swinging the gun at his side casually.
"This was supposed to be dramatic, not pathetic," he sighed. "You couldn't even finish it."
He glanced at Jihoon from a short distance, who was still conscious, eyes glazed in pain as he watched them. Then back to Minjae and Kangwon, kneeling like bitter ghosts of each other in the middle of a ruined street.
Haemin smiled, voice cold and amused.