Chapter 1 (the Reaper's Mercy)
The heavy silence of the AZ Enterprises top floor was broken only by the subtle ticking of the clock and the rustle of sharp, polished leather shoes brushing against the gleaming marble. Behind the tall glass walls of the CEO's office sat Akira, a man whose very name evoked fear across both the corporate world and the underground.
At twenty-four, Akira was no ordinary alpha. He was a Dominating Alpha, a rare phenomenon that surfaced only once every hundred years—a breed more powerful than any known alpha. With rose-red eyes, obsidian-black hair, and porcelain-pale skin, he carried an otherworldly aura. Clad in a black tailored suit, his presence was more a statement than a style. And behind his cold, calculating smile hid Reaper, the brutal yet untouchable mafia lord of the underground.
A soft knock broke the tension. The tall double doors creaked open, and a young female employee entered with trembling grace. She held a file close to her chest, her eyes flickering toward the armed guards stationed like statues across the room.
"Sir... your signature is required on the next project proposal," she said, extending the document toward him.
Akira, lounging behind his desk, took the file and skimmed it in silence. Then, lifting his gaze, he looked her over—once, slowly—from head to toe. A dangerous smile touched his lips.
"I'll see you after work," he said, handing the file back without breaking eye contact.
The woman hesitated, blinking in surprise, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. She gave a nervous nod and quickly exited.
---
The clock struck 6:00 PM.
The same woman reentered the office—this time to a scene very different from before.
Akira now sat on the black leather couch, his jacket tossed aside, sleeves rolled up. A knife spun gracefully around his fingers, its silver glint catching the fading daylight. Two guards stood at the edges of the room, unmoving shadows behind him.
As soon as she stepped through the door, the blade flew past her like lightning, embedding itself into the wooden panel behind her—just one millimeter from her face.
She froze. Legs shaking, breath uneven, heart hammering in her chest.
But then... her fear shifted.
Her expression hardened. With a swift move, she yanked the knife free and charged at Akira, leaping over the coffee table, blade aimed straight for his eye.
He didn't flinch.
In one effortless move, he caught her wrist, spun her mid-air, and pulled her into his lap, locking her down with ease. The knife trembled in her grip as his arm caged her in. He leaned in, nose brushing against her neck, and inhaled slowly.
"Oh…" he murmured, voice low and amused, "an alpha."
She struggled in his hold, fury rising in her glare. "Don't you dare touch me! If you try anything, I—!"
Before she could finish, Akira pushed her off and let her hit the floor—not with aggression, but with precise control.
Standing tall, he frowned, brushing invisible dust from his suit.
"Don't insult me," he said sharply. "I'm not like those filthy men. I don't force myself on anyone. I respect women. That's why…" He glanced at her with piercing eyes, "you're still breathing."
Unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his collar, he turned away, slipping his hands into his pockets. His voice dropped into something colder.
"Enough playing around."
At the cue, two guards moved—not toward the woman, but toward one of their own. A third man was dragged forward, restrained and thrown to his knees.
Akira crouched, eyes locked on the traitor's face. He smiled.
"Boo," he whispered mockingly.
With a single motion of his finger, sharp as a blade, he sliced the air in front of the man—a silent, lethal command.
"Wrap him up," he said casually, standing to full height. "We need to send our greetings first."
His smile returned—but now, it was painted in bloodlust.
---
The Special Agent Headquarters, a once impenetrable fortress of law, sat in a suffocating stillness that night—until the sound of a sliding parcel interrupted the quiet.
A gift-wrapped box now rested on the desk of the Head Officer, a bloated man in his mid-forties with sweat perpetually clinging to his forehead. The tag bore no name—only a black ribbon sealed in a blood-red wax.
With trembling hands, the officer loosened the ribbon. The agents nearby leaned in with guarded curiosity.
The lid fell away.
Silence.
Then chaos.
A collective gasp spread as the contents were revealed: a severed head, expression frozen in a scream, lips parted in eternal agony. Blood had dried at the edges. And carved across the forehead in thick red ink—REAPER.
The Head Officer stumbled backward, horror dawning on his face. "R–Reaper…"
Before another word could be uttered, the lights began to flicker.
A buzz. A snap. Then blackness.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" the officer barked, voice cracking with panic. "No one move—someone fix the lights!"
But no one answered.
Only a sound emerged from the dark—laughter. Smooth, low, and venomous. The kind of laughter that didn't echo but crawled into the chest and gripped the heart.
Then—a lighter flicked. A small golden flame emerged in the heart of the room, revealing a silhouette.
A face appeared.
The officer's breath caught. "R–Reaper… you…"
"Kill this bastard!!" he roared.
No gunshots came. No screams. No footsteps.
Only the soft, maddening chuckle of the man standing in the dark.
The lighter flame vanished.
Now there was silence—and fear.
The officer's knees locked, sweat pooling at the base of his neck. His mouth moved, but his voice wouldn't rise. His eyes darted desperately in the dark, searching.
Then—fwip.
The lighter ignited again—this time right in front of him.
The flame lit up Akira's face. Calm. Amused. Unshaken.
The lights flickered back on.
The floor was littered with bodies—his agents, all fallen. Blood streaked across walls and boots. Behind them stood Akira's gang—the Reaper's men, suited in black with knives dripping red, sunglasses masking their expressions.
Akira's smile widened. "Hope you liked the gift," he said smoothly.
The officer collapsed backward, legs giving out.
Akira crouched, eyeing him like a disappointed teacher. "Tsk, tsk. Look at you now... No dignity left."
"P–Please," the man stammered, voice trembling, "Have mercy! I–I'm the head officer—"
"Do I look like a priest?" Akira interrupted.
The man froze.
"Or a doctor?" Akira tilted his head, still smiling.
He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he stood tall, drew a pistol from his coat, and aimed it casually toward the floor.
"Tell me where you're keeping the girls," he said softly, cocking the gun. "Before I remind you what happens when you cross me."
With no choice left, the trembling officer stumbled toward the door at the back of the room. His hands shook so violently that he fumbled with the key, unable to slide it into the lock.
Akira scowled, then snapped his fingers. "J."
A massive man stepped forward—6'7, built like a tank, dressed in a black suit that strained against his biceps. His sunglasses glinted under the fluorescent light.
"I–It's no use," the officer stammered. "It's a security-grade doo—"
CRACK!
The door burst inward with a single kick.
Behind it, a dimly lit room was revealed. Thirty girls, chained to the walls, many unconscious, some barely clinging to awareness—drugged, abused, broken.
Akira's smile vanished.
His voice was cold as frost.
"Get them out. All of them."
Without hesitation, the Reaper's gang surged into the room, cutting chains, lifting frail bodies, and guiding them out toward the black vans waiting in silence under the midnight sky.
As the girls were safely escorted to the van, two guards held the old officer in place, his knees trembling beneath him.
Akira turned to him, his voice smooth but sharp. "You were assigned to investigate me, weren't you?"
The old man, still clinging to his pride, barked, "Yes! To uncover all your shady dealings and drag you to jail where you belong, you brat! I was going to show you what hell really feels like."
Akira chuckled, his voice laced with venom. "Tsk tsk… did you all hear that?" He stepped closer, lowering his voice into a dangerous whisper. "You wanted to know about me? Then let me enlighten you."
The officer spat at the ground. "Why would I believe a word you say?"
Akira's rose-red eyes glinted. "Funny… I thought that was your last wish."
The officer paled.
"I… wanted to know everything," he admitted, voice wavering. "But I failed... and don't think you'll leave here alive, Reaper. Say what you want—this will be the last time you boast."
Akira grinned. "Interesting."
He leaned in, eyes burning. "I am Reaper. But in the light of day, I'm Akira—billionaire, CEO of AZ Enterprises, the largest shareholder in the country, and the underworld's living death. The eldest son of Mr. Leo, a dominating alpha, born once in a hundred years."
He crouched low, smiling with a manic glint that made the old man recoil. "I have fifty murders on my head—one of them my own blood. And not once… not once, have I been caught."
The old man's voice trembled. "You psycho… what else have you done?"
Akira tilted his head mockingly. "What else? You want to know how many people I've slept with?"
Disgust crossed the old man's face.
Akira turned away, smirking. "Your son was pretty weak in bed, I must say—Head Officer."
Rage consumed the man. He lunged, grabbing Akira by the collar. "You dare speak of my son like that?! I'll kill you, you bastard!"
Guards stepped forward instinctively, but Akira raised a hand. "Wait outside."
The room emptied.
The old man seethed. "Afraid to die alone, huh?"
Akira smirked. "That's the spirit, old man."
The officer charged again—but he never reached his target. Akira spun and delivered a brutal kick to his gut, sending him flying across the room. He crashed into a table, his limbs sprawled, unable to move.
A tik-tik-tik echoed softly.
A time bomb sat on the table, blinking red.
Akira approached slowly, his black shoes clicking on the marble floor. He knelt, looked the man in the eye, and whispered, "Farewell, old man. And don't worry—I'll take good care of your son."
Then he stood, walked calmly out of the building.
Outside, the night wind stirred his hair. His men gathered around him, silent, waiting.
He snapped his fingers.
BOOM.
The building exploded in a massive roar, flames licking the sky.
Debris flew in every direction. A detached hand landed at Akira's feet.
He glanced down and chuckled. "Huh. I guess they were right—the police really do have long arms."
Laughter erupted from his gang.
---
As the echoes of their mirth faded, Akira turned to one of his subordinates. "Yuri."
The lean, sharp-eyed gang member stepped forward. "Yes, boss!"
"Take the girls home. Make sure they're fully sobered up. And tell them..." Akira's voice dropped, "Never speak of us again."
Yuri bowed and ran to the van.
Just then, the employee—the girl from earlier—approached Akira.
"I thought you were a villain," she said softly. "But… you saved us."
She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips.
"Thank you, love."
She smiled and turned to walk away.
Akira raised an eyebrow. "Napkin."
A gang member handed him one, and he wiped his mouth with a grimace. "What's wrong with this generation?"
Laughter rippled again.
Then, from behind, a voice called softly, "You saved them for me."
It was Aki, one of the few Reaper's Coffin members Akira considered close.
He wrapped his arms around Akira, who didn't return the hug, but gave a silent nod.
In the car, Akira sat in the backseat, Aki beside him. K, his trusted driver and another gang member, drove silently.
Aki turned to him with a question. "How did you know that girl wasn't the real threat?"
Akira spoke just above a whisper. "When she came to my office… she was off. Her demeanor wasn't her usual. When I invited her back, there was a flicker—an unnatural sparkle in her eye."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing. "And when she came at me… she wasn't scared enough. Not for someone staring down death. Her eyes flicked—briefly—to someone behind me. That told me all I needed. She wasn't the predator. She was being used."
Aki's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Wow, Akira… that was genius."
Akira didn't reply. He just stared out the window, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight.
The sleek black car veered off the bustling route, tires gently humming as it pulled into a quieter lane. It stopped in front of an upscale hotel—tinted windows reflecting the golden evening lights. Inside, Akira sat calmly, his crimson eyes heavy with thought. From his pocket, he drew out a single bullet, suspended from a chain like a pendant.
He turned to Aki and placed the chain in his hand. "You stay here."
The driver, K, acknowledged without turning. "Yes, boss."
Aki, however, frowned. "Why?"
Akira sighed, voice lowered. "I've got... important business. You can't come with me this time. Just hold on to this locket and wait for me in the car."
But as his hand brushed the door handle, Aki suddenly grabbed his arm.
"No. I won't let you go." His voice was trembling. "I know where you're going. Don't lie to me."
Akira hesitated, lips parted in silence.
"I spent a lot of money on him… he's expecting me."
"I don't care," Aki snapped. "You're mine. I won't let you go to someone else… not unless you're married. I won't share you."
For a long moment, Akira simply looked at him. Then he dropped his hand from the door.
"…Fine."
He glanced at K. "Go upstairs. Let him know I won't be coming."
K nodded. "Yes, boss."
Upstairs, the hotel room door creaked open.
Inside, a beautiful young omega in a maid bunny outfit sat expectantly on the bed, legs swinging off the edge. At the knock, his ears perked up with excitement.
But as K stepped in, the boy's expression shifted to clear disappointment.
"…Where's Akira?"
K rubbed the back of his neck, blushing slightly. "Boss is busy. He won't be coming tonight."
The omega pouted. "I've waited all week! And this is what I get?" He stood, walking slowly toward K, eyes scanning him top to bottom. "You're… an alpha, aren't you?"
K blinked. "Excuse me—?"
But the boy didn't let him finish. He pulled K by the wrist and shut the door behind them.
Back in the car, Akira lay stretched on the leather seat, head resting gently on Aki's lap. Aki absentmindedly ran his fingers through Akira's hair, a faint smile on his lips. The night air was quiet; only the rhythm of breath and engine noise filled the space between them.
Akira looked up, his rose-red eyes searching Aki's face with a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface.
Aki bent forward, kissed his fingers, and laid them gently on Akira's lips. "Did you feel anything?"
There was a pause. Then Akira murmured, "Even if I can't touch you anymore… even if I can't feel you… something still beats inside me with every gesture you make."
He turned his body slightly, lying sideways now in Aki's lap. The soft city lights from outside the car window passed over his pale face in fleeting strokes of gold.
A few hours later, K returned to the vehicle, sliding into the driver's seat. "Sorry to keep you waiting, boss. I delivered the message."
Akira sat up slowly. "Good. Then if you're done playing around…" he narrowed his eyes, "…take me home."
"Yes, boss."
As they drove, Aki leaned forward, poking Akira's cheek teasingly. "Aww, is my baby still sulking?"
Akira didn't respond, eyes fixed outside the window.
Aki tilted his head. "If you're feeling lonely, why don't you just get married? Find someone real to hold. Wouldn't that be easier?"
Akira's eyes snapped toward him. "I have no intention of getting married, okay? You're enough for me. It doesn't matter what form you're in."
The outburst lingered in the car's silence.
K, stunned by the sudden shout, glanced at the rearview mirror—and froze.
In the mirror, he could see Aki, smiling gently… stroking Akira's hair.
But when he turned around to look directly into the back seat—there was only Akira. Alone.
His breath caught in his throat. Eyes wide, he whispered under his breath, "Aki… how…?"