Minjae panted hard, blood dripping from a split lip, bruises blooming across his arms and ribs. His hands pressed against the road as he tried to push himself upright—
Click.
The metallic sound snapped through the air like a whip.
Minjae froze.
The barrel of Haemin's pistol was now aimed directly at him.
Kangwon's head whipped toward Haemin, fury igniting in his voice.
"Haemin! What the hell are you doing?! This wasn't the plan!"
But Haemin only smiled — that same infuriatingly calm, sweet smile that never quite reached his eyes. The gun didn't move. His finger rested easily against the trigger.
He didn't even look at Kangwon when he spoke.
"You're wrong," Haemin said softly. "This was exactly the plan."
He shifted his gaze slowly — first to Jihoon, lying weak but alert in the distance, and then back to Kangwon, who was rising to his feet in disbelief.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Kangwon?" Haemin's voice was laced with something venomous, playful, and dangerous. "For him to kneel. For him to beg. For him to break."
Kangwon's jaw tightened. "Put the gun down, Haemin. Now."
Haemin tilted his head like a curious child. "Why? Scared I'll do what you never could?"
He took a small step forward, pistol still aimed at Minjae, who remained perfectly still — chest rising and falling as he locked eyes with him.
"You're both idiots," Haemin continued, voice sharper now. "You pine after him. You obsess over him. And what does he do? He runs to that wide-eyed little baby brother like it's the only light left in the world."
His gaze flicked toward Jihoon again, eyes narrowing with contempt — or maybe jealousy.
"You don't even see it, do you?" he whispered. "You made him your god, your savior… but he was never yours. He never wanted either of you."
Minjae's eyes flicked to Jihoon — barely, subtly — to check he was still breathing, still awake.
"Go ahead then," Minjae rasped, locking eyes with Haemin. "Pull the trigger. But know this — when I fall, you will fall with me too"
Haemin let out a sharp, melodic laugh — not the kind born from joy, but the twisted kind that fed on chaos.
"Oh, Minjae," he grinned, voice echoing slightly in the stillness, "you should see your face right now."
He stepped closer, gun still trained on Minjae's chest. "So angry. So noble. Still trying to be the hero in a story that doesn't want one."
Minjae's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a fury he didn't bother to hide anymore.
"Put the gun down, Haemin," he said through his teeth. "You pull that trigger, and I swear you won't leave here breathing."
Kangwon, standing beside Minjae , ran a hand down his face, teeth grinding in frustration. He hadn't planned for this — for Haemin to take over, for his own mess of feelings to be exposed in front of them like this.
"Haemin," he hissed, "is this what you really want?"
Haemin's smile widened without taking his eyes off Minjae.
"Isn't it what you want?" he said mockingly. "To see him on his knees? To see him shattered? Don't act like you haven't imagined it."
Kangwon looked away, shame flickering across his face — only for a second — before he wiped it clean.
And then he stepped closer to Minjae, lips curling into a dark grin as he leaned down, close to his ear again.
"But maybe you've forgotten something," Kangwon whispered coldly. "Haemin isn't just some pretty boy with a sharp tongue. He's the son of one of the most powerful governors in the country. Always careful who u fuck with Hyung"
Minjae's fists clenched.
Kangwon chuckled under his breath, low and bitter. "His daddy owns judges, media, police… death certificates. You think I'm scary, Minjae?"
He turned his head slightly, voice dropping to a hiss.
"He could kill you and Jihoon… and have your graves landscaped over by tomorrow morning."
Minjae didn't move, but his heart hammered like thunder.
Kangwon straightened, still watching him with that infuriating smirk. "So unless you've got a miracle in your back pocket, you might want to choose your next words very carefully."
Haemin's finger hovered on the trigger.
His eyes danced with madness, thrill, and a hunger for control.
"Say something, Minjae," he whispered, smiling. "Beg. Cry. Break."
Minjae's chest rose and fell, his breath still ragged, body aching and bloodied. The heat of the gun barrel against his skin was like a warning, a countdown. But something in him shifted.
His eyes—furious just seconds ago—suddenly softened.
The tension in his shoulders eased, just slightly.
And then he did something no one expected.
He looked Haemin in the eye, and said gently, "You don't have to do this."
Haemin blinked, thrown off by the tone.
Minjae didn't stop. His voice stayed low, careful — not from fear, but something almost... human.
"We can talk. We can end this right now. Just—put the gun down. Please."
Haemin let out a shaky laugh, but it sounded different this time — thinner, cracked at the edges.
"You're really gonna try and play the good guy now?" he said, amusement curling into disbelief. "After everything?"
Minjae nodded, slowly.
His voice was quiet. Heavy. "I was cruel to you, Haemin. I used you. I didn't love you, and I never said I did. I should've been honest from the beginning… but I wasn't. I'm sorry."
Haemin stared.
Kangwon's eyes widened, his lips parting in disbelief.
"Minjae—" he whispered. Shock laced through every word. "You're apologizing?"
Minjae didn't look away from Haemin.
"I know you hate me. I know this pain—what I did to you—made you believe breaking me would fix it. But it won't."
Haemin's hands trembled, the gun dipping just slightly. His eyes searched Minjae's — desperate, confused, caught somewhere between longing and rage.
"I never said sorry to you," Minjae whispered. "Not once. So I'm saying it now. Not to get out of this. Not to save myself."
His voice cracked.
"I'm sorry I hurt you."
He just stood there, breathing hard, lips slightly parted — as if no one had ever said those words to him before.
Not and meant them.
Kangwon's fists curled at his sides, torn between fury and something else he couldn't name.
Minjae took a cautious step forward, never breaking eye contact.
"Let Jihoon go," he said softly. "Let us all go."
Haemin's breath hitched.
Then—he laughed. But this time, it wasn't sharp or smug.
It was shaky, unstable… heartbreak dressed in mockery.
"Finally," he said, voice trembling, the gun still pointed but faltering in his grip. "You admit it."
His eyes shimmered now, not with joy, but with something colder, older—betrayal.
"I gave you a place to sleep," he whispered, as if remembering it all. "A place to belong. I let you in when no one else wanted you. You didn't even have the strength to speak when Kangwon threw you to the wolves, and I—"
His voice cracked.
"I warmed your bed. I made you feel something—didn't I?" he snapped, eyes wide. "Didn't I, Minjae?"
Minjae's lips parted, but no words came. His silence was its own answer.
Haemin's laugh turned bitter, sharp again.
"Of all the people in the world, I chose you. And you—" his voice rose, thick with fury, "—you never wanted it. You never asked for any of it, and still, you let me believe it meant something."
The gun lifted again — higher this time — though his hand was shaking hard now.
"You were always ungrateful," Haemin spat, teeth clenched, eyes shining. "Always looking back. Always dreaming of that damn house. Of that mother. Of him—"
He glanced toward Jihoon, lying in pain, struggling to stay upright.
"Always wanted to go back to them," Haemin growled. "And every time you did, you left me. You left Kangwon. Like we were the filth you scraped off your shoes the second you had a better chance."
Minjae swallowed hard. He didn't speak yet. He listened. Because this wasn't about pride anymore — this was pain. Raw, ugly, twisted pain that had been rotting for too long.
Kangwon stepped forward now, torn. "Haemin… stop."
But Haemin didn't even look at him.
"Why do you get to be forgiven, huh?" he asked Minjae, voice smaller now. "Why do you get to walk away loved while we rot in the dark you crawled out of?"
Minjae stepped forward slowly, raising both hands—not in fear, but in offering.
"Because you never had someone to forgive you first."
"That's enough, Haemin."
Kangwon's voice cut through the rising tension — low, commanding, final.
Haemin's breathing hitched. His eyes didn't leave Minjae. His finger still hovered on the trigger like a prayer he couldn't finish.
But then—
Wailing sirens echoed in the distance. Faint at first, then louder. Approaching fast.
Kangwon turned his head slightly, listening, then gave a sharp tilt of his chin to Haemin.
"They're coming."
Haemin's lip curled in frustration, gun still trembling in his hand.
"This isn't over," he muttered to Minjae, voice low and bitter. "You don't get to walk away clean."
Minjae didn't flinch. He only stared back, expression unreadable — battle-weary, bloodied, but unbroken.
Haemin finally lowered the gun, exhaling hard as if releasing the last thread of madness holding him together. He turned sharply, storming back toward the cars without another word. Kangwon lingered a moment longer.
His eyes met Minjae's. Not with rage. Not with triumph.
But with something lost.
Then, quietly, he followed after Haemin, signaling to the bruised men scattered around to move. One by one, they climbed into the vehicles like fading ghosts, engines rumbling back to life as the fleet turned and disappeared down the road — just before the red-and-blue flashing lights rounded the bend.
Minjae didn't hesitate.
He ran straight to Jihoon.
"Jihoon!" he cried out, dropping to his knees, hands already pressing around Jihoon's injured shoulder. "Hey—hey, look at me. I'm here, I'm here."
Jihoon's eyes fluttered open, his lips curling into a faint smile despite the pain.
"You're bleeding," he whispered.
Minjae laughed through a sob. "You're bleeding, idiot."
He pulled Jihoon into his arms, holding him tightly, protectively, as if by sheer will alone he could stop the bleeding, stop the sirens, stop the fear.
"I thought I was going to lose you," he choked out. "I thought—"
Jihoon's hand found his, fingers weak but sure.
"You didn't," Jihoon whispered, resting his head against Minjae's shoulder. "I'm still here."
Minjae buried his face into Jihoon's hair, holding on like he'd never let go again — even as sirens screamed closer and tires screeched on asphalt.
And for that one moment, nothing else in the world existed.
Minjae let out a tired chuckle, one hand brushing Jihoon's hair back gently as he cradled him close.
"You're right," he murmured, voice low. "Even with all that muscle, all that training... I still couldn't protect you."
Jihoon blinked, breath catching. He looked up into Minjae's face, confused.
And before Jihoon could say anything more, Minjae slipped one arm under his knees, the other steady at his back, and lifted him — effortlessly, like carrying something fragile and precious — into a bridal carry.
Jihoon's cheeks flushed, and he squirmed weakly in his arms. "W–What are you doing?! Minjae, put me down—"
But it was too late.
The police cars screeched to a stop in front of them, sirens falling silent in sudden unity. Doors swung open. Uniformed officers stepped out, guns at the ready, hands hovering near cuffs.
One of the senior officers narrowed his eyes.
"Choi Minjae?"
Jihoon's stomach dropped. He turned to Minjae in panic, gripping his shirt. "Minjae—run! They know who you are, your record—"
But Minjae didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
He simply smiled, soft and unafraid, like a man who had already made peace with his past.
"I'm done running," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the officers. "I won't leave you behind. Not again."
Jihoon's eyes widened, tears threatening.
Minjae adjusted his grip, careful not to jostle his injured shoulder, then looked straight at the lead officer and said calmly, "I'll come peacefully. Just get him help. Please."
The silence held for a long second. One of the younger cops lowered his weapon slightly.
The older one looked at Minjae. Looked at Jihoon.
And then gave a nod to the paramedics stepping out behind them.
The flashing red and blue lights painted the street in pulsing streaks of chaos. Jihoon's vision blurred, not just from pain but from panic as they carefully eased him onto the ambulance stretcher.
"Wait—! No!" Jihoon cried, voice hoarse. "Minjae!"
He twisted on the bed, blood staining the white sheets, his body fighting every touch that tried to keep him still. The medics gently pushed him down, pressing firm hands to his shoulders.
"Sir, you're bleeding—you need to stay still!"
But Jihoon barely heard them. His eyes were locked—only on Minjae.
Minjae, who stood a few feet away, hands calmly extended, eyes soft even as the officers closed in. The moment the handcuffs clicked around his wrists, Jihoon's world shattered.
"MINJAE!" he screamed, sobbing now, chest heaving as his voice broke.
The medic tightened the strap across Jihoon's chest, trying to keep him from hurting himself, but he kept reaching—reaching—as if sheer desperation could pull Minjae back to him.
"Don't take him! Please—he didn't do anything! He saved me!"His voice cracked again.
"MINJAE IS A GOOD PERSON!!!"
Minjae turned his head just slightly, and their eyes met through the chaos.
His smile was faint, but it was real.
"I'm okay," Minjae mouthed, lips barely moving.
"I'm right here...."
Jihoon sobbed harder, hands trembling as the doors of the ambulance began to close.
The last thing he saw before the sirens swallowed the air again—Minjae standing tall, cuffed.