The Wolf and His Prey

The room was cold.

Not in temperature, but in presence.

It was the kind of cold that settled under the skin, the kind that wrapped itself around the spine like a steel wire, pulling, tightening, suffocating.

Yeijin Han sat at the center of it all.

Her hands were folded in her lap, small, delicate fingers clutching at the fabric of her dress as if holding onto it could anchor her. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, framing her face—a face that shouldn't have been in a place like this.

Too soft. Too pure. Too untouched by filth.

And yet, here she was.

And across from her?

The devil himself.

Kang Minjae leaned back in his chair, all power and dark amusement, his suit sharp, pristine, as if the weight of the world didn't touch him. His gaze, molten bronze in the dim lighting, dragged over her slowly, deliberately, like a wolf deciding how long to play with its prey before taking a bite.

She didn't look at him.

Smart girl.

But it wouldn't save her.

"Yeijin Han." His voice was smooth, almost pleasant, but laced with something venomous beneath.

She flinched at the sound of her name.

The first sign of fear.

Minjae smirked.

"Do you know where you are?"

She swallowed. Hard. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

He tilted his head, watching her closely, enjoying the way her fingers trembled just slightly against the white fabric of her dress.

He liked this dress on her. It made her look untouched. Untainted.

It was a lie for now, of course.

No one touched what belonged to Kang Minjae.

Finally, she forced herself to speak.

"I…" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "I don't understand—"

"I didn't ask what you understand." His tone didn't shift, but something in the air did. He could feel her shiver. "I asked if you know where you are."

Her lips pressed together, and she shook her head, just barely.

"Good."

He leaned forward then, placing his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between them. She inhaled sharply but didn't pull away.

Interesting.

"Let me make it simple for you, Yeijin."

Her name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, like he had spoken it a thousand times before.

"You are in my world now."

She swallowed again, her throat moving slowly, nervously. Those soft, pink lips parted, but no sound came out.

"And in my world" Minjae continued, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear, slow, deliberate, making her feel every second of it, "you only breathe because I allow it."

She jerked away, her breath hitching.

Ah. There it is.

The fire.

Minjae chuckled, low and dark.

"I see your father raised you with a bit of fight."

At the mention of her father, her breath came faster, her shoulders tightening.

Interesting. No fear—just confusion.

Did she still believe he would come for her?

How tragically naive.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Minjae exhaled slowly, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip as if considering his answer.

"What do I want?" he mused. "Now, that's an interesting question."

She didn't blink, didn't move, just sat there like a trapped bird, too afraid to fly.

"I want information" he finally said.

Her brows furrowed, genuine confusion crossing her delicate features.

"I—I don't know anything" she whispered.

Minjae smiled. It wasn't kind.

"You don't know anything?"

She shook her head, frantic now, desperate.

"I swear—I don't, I don't know—"

"Then tell me" he interrupted, voice calm, unreadable. "Why do you think you're here?"

She froze.

That was the moment he knew.

She had no idea.

The realization was amusing.

Did she really believe she was taken for who she was?

Oh, sweet little thing.

Minjae leaned in again, voice dropping lower.

"Let me help you understand, hm?"

Her breath hitched.

"You" he said, tapping a finger against the table between them, slow, rhythmic, "are not here because of something you did."

Her lips parted, but he didn't let her speak.

"You are here because of your father's mistakes."

A sharp inhale.

Minjae watched her carefully, drinking in every emotion that crossed her face.

Shock.

Denial.

Fear.

She shook her head, tears brimming at the edges of those wide, glassy eyes.

"I—my father wouldn't—"

Minjae's chuckle was low, amused.

"Wouldn't what?" His voice was almost gentle now. Mocking.

"Wouldn't leave you?"

She froze,again.

He saw it in the way her fingers clenched her dress, in the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed down the truth that was crawling up her spine.

He saw it the moment she realized.

"He's gone, Yeijin."

Her chest rose and fell faster now, panic setting in.

"I—"

Minjae pressed further, letting the final nail sink in.

"He ran."

A choked noise left her lips.

Her body trembled now, her entire frame small, delicate, breakable.

It was a beautiful sight.

"But don't worry."

Minjae reached out, taking her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

"You don't belong to him anymore."

Her breath came shallow, her eyes locked onto his, wide and desperate.

Waiting.

For what? A lifeline? A mercy?

He smiled.

"You belong to me."

Yeijin's breath came in short, uneven gasps, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a vice.

Her father was gone.

Vanished.

And she was… here.

Alone.

Trapped in a world that she didn't understand.

She didn't realize she was shaking until her nails dug into the soft fabric of her dress, clutching at it like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating.

She forced herself to breathe.

Then, slowly, she lifted her head, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

"I—I'm just a student."

The words felt weak, useless, but she clung to them like they meant something.

"I go to SNU. I study literature. I—"

A sharp exhale.

She swallowed against the knot forming in her throat, trying to steady herself.

"I have a life."

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then—Kang Minjae laughed.

The sound was soft, low, dripping with amusement. Cruel amusement.

Yeijin's hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Please" she whispered, desperation clawing at her throat. "You have the wrong person. I don't know anything about my father's business. I've never been involved in— in any of this."

Minjae just tilted his head, watching her with an expression that made her stomach twist.

"You're mistaken if you think this is about what you know." he murmured, voice rich with something dark and unreadable. "You're not here because of information, little dove. You're here because of who you are."

Yeijin flinched.

Her gaze darted to Joon, the silent shadow standing near the door, but his expression was unreadable behind those damn sunglasses.

Her chest tightened.

No. No, this couldn't be happening.

She needed to get out of here.

"I have a boyfriend." The words came out rushed, desperate. "His name is Taejoon. He— he'll look for me. People will look for me."

Minjae's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it deepened.

"Is that so?"

She nodded quickly, her breath coming faster now.

"I live alone, but— but I have friends, I go to school, I— I work at a bookstore sometimes. People will notice if I disappear. They—"

"You're cute when you beg."

Yeijin's voice died in her throat.

Minjae's fingers traced the rim of his whiskey glass, his gaze never leaving her face.

"Tell me, Yeijin" he murmured, "did your precious..what was his name? Ah, Taejoon.. even answer the last time you called?"

Her blood ran cold.

No.

He hadn't.

She had called him when she had arrived at her father's house that night. Just before—

Before everything had gone wrong.

Before her world had collapsed.

Before Kang Minjae had taken her.

She hadn't even thought about it until now, hadn't processed it in the haze of fear and confusion. But now, sitting across from this man—this monster—the realization sank into her like a blade.

Minjae saw it.

He saw the moment she understood.

And he smiled.

"You can stop lying to yourself" he said, his voice almost gentle. Almost. "No one's coming for you, Yeijin."

Her breath caught.

"No one cares enough to even notice you're gone."

Lies.

They had to be lies.

Taejoon cared about her. He loved her. He—

Minjae exhaled slowly, shaking his head.

"Pathetic." he muttered.

Yeijin's nails bit into her palms.

"I haven't done anything wrong." she whispered, her voice small, fragile. "I didn't do anything to deserve this."

Minjae's eyes darkened, and in an instant, he was out of his chair.

Yeijin gasped.

He didn't touch her, didn't even reach for her, but he didn't have to. The sheer presence of him towering over her was enough to send ice down her spine.

Her back pressed into the chair, legs instinctively pulling together as if she could make herself smaller, as if that would protect her from whatever he was about to do.

But Minjae only leaned down, one hand braced on the table beside her, the other reaching out, slow and deliberate.

Two fingers.

That's all it took.

Two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up.

Yeijin froze.

His touch was deceptively light, barely there, but it burned.

Bronze eyes met blue.

"Deserve?" Minjae murmured, his voice soft. Deadly.

"You're misunderstanding something, sweetheart."

His thumb brushed against her jaw.

"This isn't about what you deserve."

His fingers tightened. Just slightly. Just enough to make her heart pound against her ribs.

"This is about who owns you."

Yeijin's breath shattered.

"You were never free to begin with."

He released her, just as suddenly as he had touched her.

Her body swayed from the loss of contact, breath coming fast, hands trembling.Minjae straightened, buttoning the front of his jacket with a casual ease that made her stomach twist.He wasn't angry. He wasn't frustrated.

He was just… amused.

As if she were a pet who had yet to learn her place.As if this was just the beginning.Yeijin sat there, silent, shaking.Minjae turned to Joon.

"Take her back to the room." he ordered.

Joon nodded once.Yeijin didn't move.Didn't breathe.But as Joon stepped toward her, her lips parted—a small, broken sound escaping before she even realized she was speaking.

"…Please."

Minjae paused.

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

Her gaze met his.

Wide, desperate, filled with something that might have been hope.

For a second, just a second, he let the silence stretch between them.

Then, he smiled.

"Beg better next time, little dove."

And with that, Joon took her arm, pulled her to her feet, and led her back to her cage.

Her legs felt weak.

Every step was heavier than the last, as if the weight of what had just happened in that room was sinking deeper, pressing down on her ribs, curling around her lungs like a vice.

She could still feel him.

Kang Minjae's voice, smooth and sharp, still tangled in her thoughts.

'You belong to me.'

Yeijin's stomach twisted, nausea creeping up her throat.

No.

No, that wasn't true. That couldn't be true.

She wasn't a thing. She wasn't property.

She was a person.

A daughter. A student. A—

A hostage?

A pawn?

Her breath hitched as Joon's grip tightened slightly around her arm, guiding her down the long, dimly lit hallway.

She could barely feel his touch, her body too numb, too cold despite the warmth of the corridor.

Her thoughts spiraled.

Why were they doing this?

Why her?

Why not her father?

Minjae said he ran. That he left her behind.

But that didn't make sense.

Wouldn't it make more sense to go after him? To kill him? To drag him back and make him suffer?

Why keep her?

She wasn't powerful. She wasn't important.

She was nothing.

A shaky breath slipped from her lips as she stumbled, her knees nearly giving out, but Joon's hold steadied her before she could collapse.

His touch was firm. Unyielding.

But it wasn't cruel.

It wasn't like Minjae's.

"Please."

The word left her lips before she could stop it, barely above a whisper.

Joon didn't respond.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath uneven as she tried again, her voice raw with desperation.

"I want to under—"

"Silence."

The word cut through the air like a blade.

Not sharp. Not violent.

Just absolute.

Final.

Yeijin bit her lip, forcing herself to swallow down the lump in her throat.

The door loomed ahead, heavy, dark, a perfect reflection of the cage she was being led into.

She didn't fight.

Didn't resist.

Because what was the point?

Her fingers trembled at her sides as Joon finally released her, reaching for the door handle.

A second.

That was all she had left.

A second before she would be locked away again.

Before she would be alone with nothing but her thoughts.

Before she would have to face the truth.

She inhaled.

Exhaled.

And whispered, so soft, she wasn't sure if he even heard it.

"I don't want to die."

Joon paused.

Just for a second.

But he didn't look at her.

Didn't speak.

The door swung open.

And just like that—

She was left alone.