Echoes of Vengeance

Seungcheol sat at the long, polished table in the rival's office, his gaze sharp and calculating. The air was thick with tension, suffocating even the most battle-hardened men in the room. The walls of the lavish office seemed to close in as the old man across from him, Don Min-Jae, the head of a fading but still dangerous criminal empire, attempted to negotiate.

But Seungcheol wasn't interested in negotiations. He had come to prove a point.

"Seungcheol," Don Min-Jae's voice trembled slightly, though the old man tried to hide it with false bravado. His hands were clasped together on the table in a pathetic attempt at appearing composed. "We don't need to do this. There's no need for more bloodshed. Let's settle this like men, with our words."

Seungcheol smirked, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his broad chest. Hoshi, Jun, and Wonwoo stood behind him like silent shadows, each one embodying a deadly force of nature, ready to strike at their leader's command. They didn't need to speak; their presence alone was enough to make anyone in the room nervous.

"You think words will fix this, old man?" Seungcheol's voice was cold, dripping with sarcasm. "After everything? After you tried to cut into my territory and take what's mine?"

Don Min-Jae's brow furrowed, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face. He was outmatched, and he knew it. Yet he had to try—there was too much at stake. His family was at stake.

"I never intended to harm your interests, Choi Seungcheol. There was a misunderstanding between our men," the old man pleaded. "But now that we're here, we can come to an arrangement. One that benefits us both."

Seungcheol leaned forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. "An arrangement?" He chuckled darkly, though there was no warmth in the sound. It was the laugh of a man who had heard every lie, every betrayal, and was still standing, still undefeated. "The only arrangement we'll be discussing is how quickly I can destroy your empire before the shipment arrives tomorrow."

The old man visibly flinched at the mention of the shipment. Seungcheol had him right where he wanted him.

"Seungcheol," Don Min-Jae tried again, his voice more desperate now. "My family—please, leave them out of this. They have nothing to do with our business. My grandchildren, my son, my wife—they're innocent."

Seungcheol's smirk widened into a full, mocking grin. He slowly stood up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor loud in the otherwise silent room. "Innocent?" He drawled, pacing around the table now, like a predator circling its prey. "No one's innocent in this world, Don Min-Jae. Certainly not your family. They've benefitted from your empire for years. Now, they pay the price for your mistakes."

The old man's face contorted with fear and anger, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You... you wouldn't," he stammered.

Seungcheol stopped in front of him, leaning down to stare into his eyes. "Watch me."

Before Don Min-Jae could respond, the door to the office swung open, and two of Seungcheol's men dragged in the old man's son, his wife, and their children. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with terror. The young boy and girl clung to their mother, who was trembling uncontrollably, unable to look Seungcheol in the eye.

Don Min-Jae stood abruptly, knocking his chair over in his haste. "No! Not them! Please, Choi Seungcheol, I'm begging you! They have nothing to do with this!"

Seungcheol's gaze shifted to the family, then back to the old man, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "I wonder," he said, his voice soft but laced with malice, "how it feels to know that your entire family's fate rests in my hands."

"You don't know what you're doing!" the old man shouted, his voice breaking. "You don't understand what it means to protect a family! To love—"

The moment the word "love" left Don Min-Jae's mouth, something shifted in Seungcheol. His expression darkened, the mocking smile fading into a cold, dead look.

"Love?" Seungcheol's voice was dangerously low now, like the calm before a storm. "What the hell do you know about love?"

The old man, blinded by his desperation, didn't stop. "You don't deserve love, Choi Seungcheol. You don't know what it means to have a family, to protect them. You're nothing but a heartless, selfish monster, incapable of love or loyalty. You don't know the first thing about family values! You never will! You're doomed to be alone, hated by all, unloved, unwanted—"

The words hit Seungcheol like a blow to the chest, the old man's venomous tirade striking deep at wounds he didn't even realize were still raw. For a split second, Seungcheol felt the familiar ache of something lost, something he could never have. But that moment of vulnerability was fleeting, quickly replaced by a surge of cold fury.

In one swift motion, Seungcheol drew his gun and fired a shot into the old man's thigh.

Don Min-Jae screamed, collapsing to the floor in agony, his hands clutching his leg as blood poured out. His family screamed too, but Seungcheol's men held them back, preventing them from rushing to the old man's side.

"Cross me again," Seungcheol said calmly, lowering the gun, "and next time, I'll burn your entire family alive."

Don Min-Jae could only moan in pain, his face twisted in agony as he looked up at Seungcheol. The once-proud rival now lay broken before him, both physically and emotionally defeated.

Seungcheol turned to leave, nodding to his men to take the family away. He walked out of the office without another word, the sounds of the old man's cries fading into the distance as he made his way to the exit.

Once outside, Seungcheol stopped, his hands still gripping the gun tightly. The old man's words echoed in his mind, the accusations hitting too close to home. He hated how much they affected him, hated that the old man had managed to get under his skin.

Without a word, Seungcheol gestured to Hoshi, Jun, and Wonwoo, signaling them to stay behind. "Handle the shipment tomorrow," he ordered coldly, not looking back at them. "I need... some time."

"Where are you going, hyung?" Hoshi asked, his voice cautious, sensing the shift in Seungcheol's mood.

"Don't worry about it," Seungcheol muttered, walking toward his car. He needed to get away, to clear his head. The meeting had stirred up emotions he didn't want to deal with right now, and the only thing he could think about was getting some distance.

Wonwoo, ever the strategist, furrowed his brows in concern. "Hyung, are you sure this is the right time to—"

Seungcheol shot him a look that shut him up instantly. "Don't question me, Wonwoo. I'll be back tonight."

Without another word, Seungcheol climbed into the driver's seat of his car, slamming the door shut. The engine roared to life, and within moments, he was speeding down the road, leaving his team and the bloody aftermath of the meeting behind.

Seungcheol's pov

The city lights blurred past me as I drove through the long, empty road. The reflection of buildings and the headlights of passing cars flickered against the glass, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere, filled with too many thoughts, too many memories.

The shipment. My brothers. Dino.

And those damn words from that old man. The rival's taunts still echoed in my head, no matter how much I wanted to block them out. He cursed me like he knew something, like he understood anything about who I am or what I've been through.

"Don't deserve love," he said. "Don't know what family means."

The words clawed at my mind, and no matter how much I disagreed with them, they hit something deep. Something I didn't want to admit was still there, still raw. Did I deserve love? Was I cursed from the start, born into this miserable existence without a choice? It wasn't like I asked for this life. I didn't ask to be this way.

I wasn't always a monster.

I wasn't born one.

But the world... my parents... they made me into what I am now. A man who knows only power and control, someone who has to crush everything in his path just to survive. Did I commit some sin to end up this way? Was it my fault?

No.

The world twisted me, beat me into the ground until there was nothing left but the cold, empty shell I've become.

Love. What the hell even is that? It's nothing but a fantasy, a lie people tell themselves to feel like their lives mean something. I wouldn't know what it feels like. I never have. I was never given the chance.

I grew up with parents who didn't care about me—only money, only power. I wasn't their son; I was just something they could control, a tool to stroke their sadistic egos. They didn't raise me. They molded me, beat me, and twisted me into something unrecognizable. They created this monster.

The road stretched out in front of me, empty and dark, and after what felt like hours, I arrived at my destination. An old, out-of-the-way graveyard, isolated from the noise and lights of the city. The flickering lights from a few broken lampposts cast eerie shadows over the gravestones.

I walked straight to the two graves I came to see, stepping over the overgrown grass and weeds that had claimed the space. I didn't bother with cleaning it up. Why should I? They didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve anything from me.

I stared down at the graves, the names of my parents etched into the worn stone.

"Still here, huh?" I muttered, my voice cold, laced with bitterness. "Figures. Even in death, you're a pair of useless fucks."

I didn't feel anything. No sadness. No grief. Just the same cold detachment I'd felt for years.

"You know," I continued, staring at the dirt and weeds, "if there's a hell, I hope you're rotting in it right now. You deserve it. Both of you."

The wind picked up, brushing past me, but I stayed rooted to the spot, glaring at their names. "Everything you ever did, every fucking thing you put me through... look at me now. You proud of yourselves? You turned me into a monster."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips as I clenched my fists. 

I stepped closer, my voice filled with venom. "I hope it was worth it. I hope all that control, all that abuse, all those years you spent trying to break me down—I hope it gave you the satisfaction you were looking for."

I spat on the ground, the final mark of my hatred. 

I turned, walking away without a second glance. They weren't worth it. They never were.

As I made my way back to my car, ready to leave this place behind once again, something caught my attention—a sound. Sniffling.

I paused, turning my head toward the noise. A little ways off, in the corner of the graveyard, I saw someone sitting by a grave. It was a tall figure, hunched over, wiping tears from his face as the wind ruffled his long hair.

He straightened, wiping at his face before tucking his hair behind his ear. The wind was too strong, making his movements almost graceful. And in that moment, I just... stared.

I don't know why, but I couldn't look away. I've never seen anyone like him before. Something about him felt different, almost out of place in this dark, twisted world I live in.

'Who is he?'

I stood there, hidden by the shadows, watching as he whispered to the grave in front of him. The words were soft, filled with something... something I couldn't place. Affection, maybe. Love. He kept saying "I love you" over and over again to the grave, and for a second, I felt like an intruder in something deeply personal, but I couldn't stop staring.

There was a strange pull in my chest. Something I haven't felt in years. Not a desire to hurt, or control, or dominate. Just... curiosity. A cold sort of curiosity mixed with something else. Something dangerous.

He got up, brushing off his clothes and wiping the last of his tears before heading toward the entrance of the graveyard. My body moved on instinct, my steps quickening to follow him. I wasn't sure why, but I needed to see more, to know more. Who was this stranger? And why did he make me feel like this?

I watched him as he walked to a car parked just ahead of mine. He got in, and before I knew it, I was back in my own car, following him.

The streets blurred again as I tailed him through the city, watching the faint glow of his car's taillights ahead of me. He drove through a quieter part of town, the buildings growing smaller and more spread out until finally, his car came to a stop in front of a small shop.

"Blooms and Petals," the sign read.

I parked a little way back, watching as the man stepped out of his car and entered the shop. Through the plants, I saw him sit by the porch, staring out at the sky.

I don't know why, but I couldn't leave. There was something about him. This... unknown someone. A stranger I've never met, but felt drawn to in ways that I couldn't explain.

I snapped a quick photo of the store's entrance and the stranger sitting by the window, committing every detail to memory.

He wasn't part of my world. He didn't belong in the darkness I lived in. But I didn't care.

I wanted him.

No, I needed him.

There was something about him that made me want to protect him. To possess him.

I watched as he left the shop, walking a few blocks to an apartment building. As he disappeared from sight, I leaned back in my seat, my mind filled with his peaceful face, the tears, the way he spoke to the grave.

'Who the hell are you?'

I thought about him the entire night, his image burning into my mind like a flame I couldn't put out.

It wasn't love. It wasn't obsession.

It was a need. An unknown need.

It was something far more dangerous.

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