The Price of Weakness

It had been a week since Seungcheol's life took a turn, spiraling into a deep obsession. For Jeonghan, everything seemed perfect. He ran his flower shop with ease, the bright colors of petals blooming in harmony with his soft laughter. The rhythm of his daily life continued as always—interacting with customers, sharing quiet moments with Joshua, Mingyu, and Seokmin, sipping coffee in the café opposite his shop. His world was serene, untouched by darkness.

But for Choi Seungcheol, watching from a distance, it was becoming unbearable.

Each day, Seungcheol parked his black car a few feet away from Jeonghan's flower shop. He observed every gesture, every smile, every interaction. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel each time Jeonghan laughed with his friends, each time someone touched his shoulder or leaned into whisper something. A dark storm brewed inside Seungcheol. The reality was painfully clear—he had no place in Jeonghan's world. In fact, Jeonghan didn't even know he existed.

The thought was agonizing.

Seungcheol had faced enemies far more ruthless than most men could fathom, yet none had ever broken him. Yet here he was, torn apart by the mere sight of someone he hadn't even spoken to. This wasn't just frustration—it was something deeper. Something dangerous. It clawed at him relentlessly, keeping him on edge. Every passing day, his restraint grew thinner, his desire to claim Jeonghan burning hotter.

But still, he did nothing. He watched. He waited.

Dino noticed. Of course, Dino always noticed. He would often see Seungcheol's car parked in the same spot, unmoving for hours on end. Dino tried to ignore it, even though the sight unsettled him. He wasn't sure what was worse—Seungcheol's silence or the dark obsession he saw forming behind his boss's cold eyes. Dino knew what it meant when Seungcheol stayed quiet for too long. It meant something dangerous was brewing beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, the rest of Seungcheol's gang had begun to grow suspicious. Wonwoo, Hoshi, and the others noticed his frequent disappearances, his sudden absences from meetings. They didn't question him—yet. But the tension hung thick in the air.

And elsewhere, far away from the peaceful streets of Jeonghan's world, there was another man. A man whose cruelty was only matched by his cunning.

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In a dimly lit basement, blood painted the floor like a canvas. Screams echoed, reverberating off the cold, concrete walls, filling the air with a horrifying melody. There were bodies—broken, defeated—tied to chairs, their faces contorted in terror. The man at the center of it all watched, unbothered by the blood that covered his hands, his smile as cold as the room itself.

One of the victims struggled weakly against the ropes that bound him, his voice hoarse and trembling, "P-please... stop..."

The man laughed—a sound devoid of warmth or pity. He bent down, grabbing the victim by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Stop?" His voice was smooth, almost kind, which made it all the more terrifying. "But we're just getting started. You see, the real fun begins when you stop begging."

He stood up, casually wiping the blood from his hands with a white cloth, and nodded toward his men. Without hesitation, they dragged the next victim forward, the sharp sound of metal scraping against stone filling the room as a blade was drawn.

At that moment, a tall man in a crisp suit entered the basement. His demeanor was respectful, but there was tension in his stance. He approached cautiously, holding a file in hand.

"Sir," the man began. He was the secretary—Mr. Park, ever loyal. "I have something important for you."

The man who had been reveling in the screams raised an eyebrow but remained silent, allowing Mr. Park to approach and hand over the file. Slowly, deliberately, the man wiped the last traces of blood from his fingers before opening the file. His eyes fell on a photograph—a man, beautiful, almost delicate, his features soft but captivating.

"Yoon Jeonghan," Mr. Park explained, "Florist. Twenty-nine. No family. Moved to his current location about ten years ago. No one seems to know much about his past." Mr. Park paused, glancing at the man's face before continuing. "He appears to be someone Choi Seungcheol is... interested in. His car has been seen parked outside Jeonghan's shop for hours."

The man's lips curled into a slow, malevolent smile as he gazed at the photo, his fingers tracing Jeonghan's face. "Seungcheol..." he whispered, his tone soft, but laced with amusement. "So, he finally has a weakness."

A dark chuckle escaped his lips as he tossed the file onto the table. "It seems it's time to pay Seungcheol a little visit," he said, stepping toward his office, a predator preparing for the hunt. "Let's see how he handles losing what he doesn't even have yet."

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Back at Seungcheol's mansion, the atmosphere was thick with unease. The gang gathered in the meeting room, as they always did, but today something was different. Seungcheol had just returned from another one of his unexplained absences, his face a cold mask, giving away nothing.

Wonwoo and Hoshi exchanged glances, both knowing it was time to address the elephant in the room. Hoshi, always direct, finally spoke up.

"Seungcheol," he said, his voice cold and sharp, "where have you been disappearing to?"

Seungcheol's eyes flicked toward him, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable.

"We've all noticed," Wonwoo added, his voice low and controlled. "You've been gone more than usual."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, his fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest. "It's none of your concern," he said flatly, his voice icy. "Focus on the mission."

Hoshi's eyes narrowed, but before he could push further, Mr. Sung, Seungcheol's personal secretary, entered the room, holding a small envelope. His expression was tense, something clearly troubling him.

"This was delivered to the front gate, sir," Mr. Sung said, handing the envelope to Seungcheol. "The guard said someone dropped it off, but they couldn't see who."

Seungcheol's eyes darkened as he ripped open the envelope. Inside was a short note, written in elegant but mocking handwriting. As he read it, his expression grew stormier, the paper crumpling slightly in his tightening grip.

                                       
You're finally showing weakness. 

                                 
 It's a shame to see such a powerful man fall. 

                                                   
The boy is quite pretty, isn't he?

Seungcheol's lips curled into a snarl as he read the words. Jun, sensing the shift in mood, leaned forward, his voice laced with concern. "Who sent it?"

Seungcheol's eyes burned with fury as he muttered through gritted teeth, "Viktor Kwon."

The name hit the room like a bomb. Dino and Hansol visibly tensed, their faces paling, while the rest of the gang felt a wave of icy rage settle in their veins. Viktor Kwon—a name they hadn't heard in years. The man was a ghost, a demon from their past. Cunning, ruthless, and relentless, Viktor Kwon was the last person anyone wanted to cross. And now, he was targeting Seungcheol.

Seungcheol's grip on the letter tightened until his knuckles turned white. His voice was low, dangerous. "He thinks he can take what's mine."

Wonwoo's voice was cold as ice. "What do we do?"

Seungcheol stood, his presence towering over the room, the coldness in his eyes now sharpened by pure rage. "We remind him who he's dealing with." He tossed the letter onto the table, turning toward the door. "And we start by making sure Jeonghan stays untouched."

As he left the room, his gang exchanged knowing glances. They had fought many battles, but this one would be different. This time, it was personal. And Viktor Kwon would soon learn the cost of provoking Choi Seungcheol.

But wait...... who is Jeonghan ?

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