"Check the west coast for the delivery. The tracking there is short, and you'll have easier access to the port to..." Seungcheol's voice cut through the murmur of the room, his tone brooking no argument.

He was more than just talking—he was commanding, eyes flicking from one man to the next, ensuring each would understand the gravity of the mission. There was no room for mistakes, not this time.

Seokmin's eyes drifted from the map on the table to his brother. Seungcheol’s sharp gaze and clipped words were so practiced, it almost seemed effortless.

Yet beneath the surface, tension simmered. He was preparing for war, not just a routine delivery. “The factory near Benkov Ent—is it abandoned?” Seokmin’s question sliced through the room, heavy with suspicion.

Seungcheol turned his gaze on him, eyes narrowing slightly. He hadn’t expected the question, nor the distraction from his carefully laid plans.

Another man stepped forward, his voice carrying the weight of information he’d hoped to keep buried. “Officially, it’s abandoned. At least, that’s what the government records show. But word on the street is there’s a drug racket running out of there, operating under the radar.”

Seungcheol’s eyes turned into slits, his jaw tightening as he processed the revelation. “A drug racket? Out of nowhere?” His voice was a low growl, a mix of disbelief and anger. The man nodded, fear flickering in his eyes as Seungcheol’s stare pinned him in place.

“Find out who’s behind it,” Seungcheol ordered, his voice cold as ice. “And make sure they know that they’re on borrowed time.”

“I don’t think Benkov Ent is the safest place to lay a blanket on,” Seungcheol’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unyielding. His eyes flickered over to Seokmin, challenging him to argue. 

“If this is about—” Seokmin started, but Seungcheol’s curt tone interrupted. 

“It is.” 

Seokmin’s jaw tightened, frustration flashing in his eyes. “It’s been five years, Seungcheol. When exactly are you going to learn to move on?” His words were harsh, but his voice trembled slightly, a barely-contained fury bubbling beneath the surface. 

Seungcheol’s gaze didn’t waver. “This isn’t about the past. It’s about safety. Do you really think they’ll let us operate without causing trouble?” His tone was cold, calculated. It was always about the bigger picture with Seungcheol, about preventing the storm before it hit. 

Seokmin turned away, a bitter taste in his mouth. What happened back then was done, sealed away in the blood-soaked corners of their past. Neither of them could change it, bring back the dead, rewrite the tragedies that still haunted them. 

“His death is on both of us, but you can’t keep running from it,” Seokmin muttered, his voice thick with resentment. He didn’t meet Seungcheol’s eyes, the ghosts of their shared history hanging heavy between them. 

“You know he’ll go feral if he finds out we’re trying to build a business on the very ground where his brother died,” Seungcheol said, his voice a low murmur, but each word cut deep. Seokmin’s shoulders stiffened, the weight of Seungcheol’s words pressing down on him.

Silent didn’t mean harmless. Just because their old rival hadn’t made a move didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting for the right moment. And Seokmin knew the truth of it—revenge was a dish best served cold. 

“It’s true,” Seokmin admitted quietly, the anger in his voice giving way to resignation. “He’s still out there, watching. One wrong move, and he’ll see it as an invitation.” 

Seungcheol nodded, a grim acknowledgment passing between them. The past had never really left them; it lingered like a shadow, just waiting for the right moment to come back to life. And in their world, the dead never stayed buried for long.

The room seemed to close in around them, the weight of their past pressing down, thickening the air. Seungcheol’s eyes never left Seokmin, watching as his brother wrestled with emotions he himself had long buried. They had both made their choices, both carried scars that could never heal. 

“We can’t afford to let emotions cloud our judgment,” Seungcheol said softly, his voice a measured calm. “Benkov Ent is a risk, not because of what happened, but because of what it represents. He’s been quiet for too long, and if we make a move there, it’ll be seen as a provocation.” 

Seokmin turned back to Seungcheol, his eyes hardening. “So what? We just stay out of his way forever? Let him dictate how we run our business because of a mistake that happened years ago?” His voice was rising, the frustration boiling over, spilling into the space between them. 

Seungcheol’s expression remained unreadable, a mask of control he’d perfected over years of dealing with the darkest parts of their world. “It’s not about fear, Seokmin. It’s about strategy. Pushing him now would be like waking a sleeping beast. We need to be smarter than that.” 

Seokmin felt a surge of anger at the calmness in Seungcheol’s tone. “And what about our own plans? Are we just supposed to put everything on hold because of the possibility he might react? We’ve worked too hard to let one man’s grief dictate our actions.” 

A flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossed Seungcheol’s face before it vanished. “Grief turns men into monsters, Seokmin. It gives them a kind of strength that’s impossible to predict. You think he’s alone, but he’s got connections and resources. He’s waiting for a reason to strike, and us moving into Benkov would give him one.” 

Seokmin opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, clenching his fists at his sides. He knew Seungcheol was right, knew the careful balance they’d managed to maintain and could shatter with one wrong move.

But it didn’t make it any easier to swallow, this constant walking on eggshells because of a ghost. 

“We can’t let him dictate our every move,” Seokmin said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But we can’t ignore the threat either. What’s the plan then? We keep expanding, but away from Benkov?” 

Seungcheol nodded. “For now. We find other avenues, other opportunities. He’s waiting for us to get greedy, to overreach. If we keep him guessing, keep him in the dark about our true intentions, we can maneuver around him.” 

“And if he finds out anyway?” Seokmin challenged, a dark edge to his voice. “If he decides to come after us?” 

A cold smile tugged at the corners of Seungcheol’s mouth. “Then we show him that this time, we’re ready. He’s not the only one who’s been preparing for a war.” 

Seokmin held his brother’s gaze, a silent agreement passing between them. The past might haunt them, but it would not break them.

If their rival wanted a fight, he’d find one. The ground at Benkov Ent might be stained with blood, but Seokmin was ready to stain it again if it meant securing their future. 

“Fine,” Seokmin said at last, his voice steady. “We play it your way. But remember this, Seungcheol—when the time comes, and it will, I won’t hold back. Not for anyone.” 

Seungcheol nodded, a gleam of approval in his eyes. “Good. Because in this world, hesitation is the only thing that gets you killed.” 

"I mean, Jaesung hesitated. That's why he got killed," Seungcheol said, his voice cold and unfeeling. Seokmin glanced at him, a shadow flickering in his eyes.

It wasn’t their fault. But it was.

It was their fault Jaesung died that night, but also not.

It was their fault he got lured into that horrendous place, but also not.

It was their fault that an innocent family perished, but also not.

Kwon Jaesung and his wife lost their lives because of Seungcheol and Seokmin, but... it wasn’t entirely their fault.

Jaesung had it coming.

Hesitation had no place in their world.

The meeting ended, and their workers filed out one by one, leaving the room empty except for Seungcheol and Seokmin.

“When are you going to stop?” Seungcheol asked, reaching for his cigar. He lit it up, the end glowing a bright red as he inhaled. Seokmin scrunched his nose in disgust and turned his head away. He despised smoking, drinking, any of it. Oddly enough, he was more of a strawberry candy guy.

“Why do you care?” Seokmin retorted, his tone mocking as he scrolled through his phone, barely giving his brother a glance.

“I care because that man is my man's best friend, brother. You see the connection here?” Seungcheol’s voice was low and sharp as he took a long drag, exhaling slowly, feeling the familiar burn in his lungs.

“I don’t see it. Consider me blind,” Seokmin said as he stood up, dismissive. Seungcheol snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing at Seokmin’s words.

They stared at each other, the tension between them like a live wire, threatening to ignite everything around them.

The air was thick with unspoken resentment, their silence more volatile than any argument. Smoke curled lazily from Seungcheol’s cigar, filling the room with its acrid scent.

He watched Seokmin’s every move, the way his brother's jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders. It was a familiar sight, one that spoke of unhealed wounds and battles fought too many times.

“What’s to say he isn’t the same?” Seungcheol's words made Seokmin's fists clench. For the first time, he felt the overwhelming urge to lash out at his brother—the very man who had raised him, molded him into who he was today.

“Stop,” Seokmin warned, his voice low and dangerous.

“What proof do you have that he isn’t him? Those same eyes, those same features, even their voices have a similar tone—” Seokmin’s shoulders trembled.

He knew Seungcheol was provoking him, pushing him to the edge just to see if he would lose control. To see what kind of hold Joshua had over Seokmin.

“—there’s no way their resemblance is just a coincidence, right? Are you sure it’s not your little pet Yeos—”

A deafening gunshot rang through the room, silencing Seungcheol’s words. He froze, eyes wide, staring at the bullet hole in the wall just inches from his head. The shattered remains of a vase lay scattered on the floor, the echo of the shot still reverberating through the room.

“Fucking hell, Seokmin!” Seungcheol shouted, spinning around to face his brother. The fear was barely concealed behind his anger, his hands trembling slightly. He had pushed Seokmin too far, and he knew it.

Seokmin stood there, gun still in his grip, his eyes cold and unflinching. “He’s not him,” Seokmin said, his voice was like ice. There was no regret in his eyes, no apology in his stance.

“Joshua is not Yeosang. He will never be Yeosang,” Seokmin continued, locking eyes with Seungcheol. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and it sent a shiver down Seungcheol’s spine. He had never seen Seokmin like this—so lost, yet so focused at the same time.

Not even when Seungcheol had shot Yeosang right in front of him.

Seokmin’s words hung heavy in the air, each one a sharp edge cutting through the tension between them. Seungcheol swallowed hard, trying to mask the flicker of unease that Seokmin’s icy demeanor stirred within him.

It was like staring into a mirror and seeing only darkness, a reflection of the cruelty they’d both been forced to embrace over the years.

“Why can’t you just let it go?” Seungcheol’s voice was rough, barely concealing the tremor of anger and something deeper, more painful.

"I can't." Seokmin sets straight.

“This conversation is over,” Seungcheol said, his voice cold and final. He took another drag of his cigar, the ember flaring bright in the dim light. “Get your head straight, Seokmin. We have work to do. And next time you pull a gun on me, make sure you intend to use it.”

“I won’t stay away from Joshua,” Seokmin says, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He watches as Seungcheol pauses, his back still turned, the tension in his shoulders suddenly apparent.

Seungcheol’s voice is low when he speaks, almost resigned. “If you can’t stay away, then at least make sure your presence doesn’t haunt him for the rest of his life. Seokmin, he isn’t like us. He’s not like you, or me, or even my husband.” Seungcheol’s words hang heavy in the air, an unspoken plea for restraint, for caution.

Seokmin doesn’t respond, but the truth of Seungcheol’s words is undeniable. Joshua was different. He was the light that had somehow managed to pierce through the darkness that surrounded them all, a glimmer of hope in their otherwise bleak existence.

“Just… just make sure that your way of healing doesn’t end up breaking him,” Seungcheol adds softly, the weight of his concern evident. “Don’t hurt him in the process.”

Seokmin stays silent, the echo of Seungcheol’s words ringing in his mind. He knew Joshua was a fragile thing in their world of violence and shadows.

And yet, Seokmin couldn’t bring himself to let go, couldn’t stay away from the only person who made him feel anything at all.

But perhaps, in his desire to heal himself, he might end up shattering the only light left in their lives.

Seokmin slid into his car, the engine growling to life as he revived it. He pulled out of the company parking lot, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The car surged forward, slicing through the streets.

What if he’s the same as Yeosang?

The thought gnawed at him, a relentless worry. Seungcheol’s words echoed in his mind, irrational but persistent. Seokmin knew his brother often spewed nonsense, but the possibility that Joshua might be similar to Yeosang made his skin crawl.

One heartbreak had already turned him into a monster who thrived on blood and murder. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Joshua—or repeating the past.

As the rain began to fall, Seokmin cursed under his breath. Rain always seemed to come at the worst possible times, and he hated it with every fiber of his being.

He rolled up the window, determined to keep the filthy water out, and focused on the road ahead, his mind racing with anxiety and determination.

Seokmin reached for his phone, desperate to soothe his racing mind with a glimpse of Joshua’s presence. “Where is he?” Seokmin asked, his voice tight with anxiety. He heard John’s fingers tapping on his laptop before the line went dead.

“Home, sir,” John’s voice confirmed.

Seokmin sped through the streets, driven by a desperate need to see Joshua. He pulled up to Joshua's house, relieved to see the rain had stopped.

He stepped out, his expensive shoes quickly soaked by the rainwater that had collected on the pavement. He walked briskly to the door, the weight of his concerns pressing heavily on him.

He rang the doorbell and waited, the silence around him a stark contrast to the storm that raged within. It had become a near-daily ritual—coming to see Joshua, staying close, letting the sight and sound of him anchor his scattered thoughts.

"Oh Jeongha--"

When Joshua answered the door, his eyes widened in surprise. He stood there in silk pajamas, freshly bathed, a faint scent of soap lingering around him. Seokmin’s gaze lingered on Joshua, the sight of him in such an intimate setting igniting a fierce urge within him.

“Good afternoon,” Seokmin greeted, his voice rough and husky. He stood on the threshold, battling the overwhelming urge to pull Joshua into his arms, to feel the warmth of his body pressed against his own.

“Afternoon…” Joshua’s voice wavered as he pushed his damp hair behind his ears, his cheeks flushing slightly. He stepped aside, motioning for Seokmin to enter. “Please, come in.”

Seokmin inhaled deeply, the air thick with unspoken tension. He stepped inside, the warmth of the house contrasting sharply with the cool, damp air outside. He sank onto the couch, his eyes never leaving Joshua, who stood just out of reach at the edge of the room.

“Was my brother-in-law supposed to come by?” Seokmin asked, trying to maintain a semblance of casual conversation. He remembered Joshua nearly calling him by his brother-in-law’s name.

“Yes,” Joshua replied, his voice is softer now. “He was supposed to come over for a movie. We usually watch together when he’s free.”

Seokmin’s lips curled into a knowing smile. He was aware of the security cameras in Joshua’s house, which made the situation even more charged. “Well, should I leave then?” he asked, making a show of standing up. His voice was low, suggestive.

Joshua’s breath hitched. “No,” he said quickly, “it’s okay. You can stay until he arrives.”

Seokmin sat back down, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and frustration. Joshua lingered at the edge of the couch, the air between them crackling with unresolved tension. Every movement Joshua made, every subtle shift, seemed to pull Seokmin closer, fueling a craving he struggled to control.

As Joshua finally moved to sit beside him, their proximity was electric. Seokmin’s fingers brushed against Joshua’s, the touch brief but charged with unspoken promises.

Joshua's breath caught, his body trembling slightly under the intensity of Seokmin’s gaze. The room seemed to shrink around them, the only sound their mingled breaths and the relentless thudding of Seokmin’s heart.

This encounter was more than just a visit; it was a battle between restraint and desire, and neither was ready to back down.

“Do you want coffee?” Joshua asked, his voice quivering slightly as he put some distance between himself and Seokmin. Seokmin’s silence was heavy with unspoken tension.

“Do you have black coffee?” Seokmin’s voice was firm, his gaze fixed on Joshua.

Joshua bit his lip, shaking his head. “I don’t. I’ll go out and get some. The store’s just a couple of minutes away.”

“I’m fine with whatever you have,” Seokmin said, his tone suggesting he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of anyone else seeing Joshua. “Sweet is okay too.”

Joshua nodded, though his heart raced at the thought of being alone with Seokmin. The atmosphere between them crackled with an unspoken energy that Joshua couldn’t ignore.

In the kitchen, Joshua’s mind was a whirlwind. Seokmin’s confession had changed the air between them, making every interaction feel charged and intimate.

As Joshua warmed some milk on the stove, he couldn't shake the awareness of Seokmin’s presence. The man was undeniably attractive—his chiseled features, the way his muscles strained against his clothes, and those whiskey-colored eyes that seemed to see right through him.

Lost in his thoughts, Joshua nearly forgot the milk. The sudden hiss of steam snapped him back to reality.

“You’ll burn your house down like this,” Seokmin’s voice startled him. Joshua flinched, turning to see Seokmin standing beside him, his hand turning off the gas.

Joshua looked at the milk, now dangerously close to boiling over. Embarrassed, he looked away. “I was so distracted I didn’t notice,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing.

Seokmin’s gaze lingered on Joshua, his eyes softening as he took in Joshua’s flustered state. “Do you drink hot chocolate? I could make it for you if you’d like,” Seokmin offered, his voice low and inviting.

He moved closer, his presence filling the small kitchen with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold, wet evening outside.

Seokmin was making hot chocolate for him.

Joshua’s heart skipped a beat. The idea of Seokmin preparing something for him, of their closeness in this intimate space, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

He nodded, trying to mask his excitement with a casual smile. “Hot chocolate sounds perfect.”

As Seokmin worked on