The Wolf and His Prey

The room smelled like blood.

Not fresh blood—old, metallic, the kind that clung to the air long after a body had gone still.

Kang Minjae sat in his chair, legs crossed, the lazy flicker of his lighter illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He wasn't watching the man tied to the chair in front of him. Not really.

Because he already knew how this was going to end.

The man—Jung Woojin—was gasping through broken teeth, his head hanging low, his chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths. He had held out longer than most.

Minjae respected that.

Not enough to let him live.

"Last chance" Minjae murmured, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "Tell me where Han Tae-Won is."

Woojin coughed, his body jerking from the motion, blood spitting from his lips. He tried to speak but only managed a wet gurgle.

Pathetic.

Minjae sighed, flicking his lighter shut.

"Kill him."

Joon didn't hesitate.

The gunshot was loud in the enclosed space.

Short. Clean. Efficient.

The chair rocked back from the force, the man's body jerking once before going completely still.

Blood pooled across the concrete floor, creeping in slow, lazy rivulets toward Minjae's shoes.

Minjae leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the cooling corpse with mild amusement.

"And send the body back to his family." He straightened, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "The bastard had two kids, didn't he?"

Joon nodded once, already making the arrangements.

Minjae smiled.

"Good. Make sure they see what happens when you waste my time."

Then he stops, raising just a finger, without turning around "Obviously give her a good chunk of money, to his wife I mean."

By the time Minjae slid into his car, the night had settled into something quieter. The streets were wet from the evening rain, the city lights reflecting against the pavement, stretching in long golden lines.

He exhaled, rolling his neck as the engine hummed to life, the soft leather beneath him molding to his body like a throne.

And then—

The phone rang.

Minjae glanced at the screen.

Unknown number.

Ah. Interesting.

He answered with a lazy flick of his thumb, bringing the phone to his ear.

Silence.

Then—a voice he knew.

"You really think you can make people disappear and no one would notice?"

Minjae's lips curled.

So this was about the Minister.

The detective on the other end—Seo Jungho. A man who had been a problem before. A smart man. A man who knew how the game was played, and yet still acted like the world wasn't already bought and paid for by men like Minjae.

Annoying.

Minjae let a slow smirk tug at his lips. "Detective Seo. You sound tense. Long night?"

"Cut the shit!" the voice snapped. "We both know you were behind Han Tae-Won's disappearance. The house, the bodies—none of this happens without you pulling the strings."

Minjae exhaled through his nose, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.

"So direct" he mused. "And here I thought law enforcement needed proof before making accusations."

"Don't play games with me, Kang."

"You called me, detective." His voice dropped, just slightly. More amused. More dangerous. "Sounds like you're the one who wants to play."

A pause.

Seo Jungho wasn't a fool.

He knew what Minjae was doing. Knew he was baiting him, pulling him into a web he had no chance of escaping.

Still—he couldn't help himself.

"I know you had something to do with the Minister's disappearance." Jungho said, voice lower now, more measured. "And I know the girl is missing too. His daughter."

Minjae smirked.

Oh? Now this was getting fun.

"Is that so?" he murmured, the smirk clear in his tone.

"You think I don't know what kind of man you are?" Jungho pressed. "Women don't just vanish unless someone like you makes them vanish."

Minjae chuckled.

Ah. He was pushing now.

Good.

He liked when they pushed.

"Careful, detective" Minjae warned, his voice like silk-wrapped steel. "People might think you're making dangerous assumptions."

"I'm not assuming anything!"Jungho bit back.

"Then you must have proof, yes?"

Silence.

Minjae's smirk widened.

There it is.

"You don't have a damn thing, do you?" Minjae hummed.

Jungho exhaled sharply.

"This isn't over."he said finally. "One day, you're going to slip. And when you do, I'll be there to watch you fall."

Minjae laughed. Actually laughed.

"Tell you what, detective" he said smoothly. "Since you're so interested in my affairs, why don't you stop by my house?"

Jungho went still.

Minjae could practically see the way his jaw clenched, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Come see for yourself" Minjae continued, his voice full of something mocking, taunting. "Who knows? Maybe I really am hiding the Minister's daughter in my bedroom."

A sharp inhale.

Minjae grinned.

"Unless, of course, you're afraid to find out the truth."

Jungho cursed under his breath.

Minjae chuckled again, the sound slow, dark, full of amusement.

"Didn't think so."

And then, before Jungho could respond—

Minjae hung up.

༺♰༻

The night stretched wide before them, the city a blur of neon and shadows against the sleek black of Minjae's car. The hum of the engine purred beneath his fingertips, smooth and controlled, just like everything else in his life.

Tonight, he had decided to drive.

It wasn't something he did often—not because he couldn't, but because he rarely had the patience for it. That's what drivers were for.

But tonight, he was bored.

And when Minjae got bored, he liked to remind himself he was still in control.

The leather felt good against his palms, the precision of his movements calculated, effortless.

Joon sat beside him, broad shoulders relaxed against the seat, one hand propped against the open window as he took a slow drag from his cigarette.

A habit of his.

He always smoked after a kill.

Minjae never questioned it. Everyone had their rituals.

Joon exhaled a long stream of smoke, his sunglasses still in place despite the darkness. He was silent for a while, watching the city lights flicker past.

Then, finally—

"What's the plan?"

Minjae smirked, eyes on the road.

"Which one?"

Joon made a small noise of amusement before flicking ash out the window.

"You know which one."

Ah.

The Minister.

The girl.

The loose ends.

Minjae's fingers tapped idly against the wheel, the speedometer steady, controlled, just like his thoughts.

Joon shifted beside him.

"We still haven't found him." he said, voice even. "No movements. No leaks. He's gone."

Minjae hummed.

Gone.

How cute.

No one ever truly disappeared.

Not in his world.

Jang Tae-Won was still out there. Hiding, waiting, hoping the storm would pass.

It wouldn't.

He just hadn't realized it yet.

Minjae exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the wheel as the car slid smoothly through an empty intersection.

"And the daughter?" Joon continued, tone unreadable. "Still don't get why you kept her."

Minjae chuckled.

"Would you have preferred I burned her alive along with the house?"

Joon didn't react, just flicked more ash from his cigarette, staring at the city like it had the answers.

"No. But you could've put a bullet in her head."

Minjae sighed, rolling his wrist.

"Ah, ah, Joon" he murmured, lifting a single finger from the wheel. "What's with you now? You know we don't kill innocent people."

Joon gave him a look.

"Since when do you give a shit about innocence?"

Minjae's smirk didn't falter.

"Since always."

Joon huffed out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Right."

They both knew that was bullshit.

Minjae didn't kill carelessly, that much was true. But innocence had nothing to do with it.

He killed when it was necessary.

When it was useful.

When it served a purpose.

And Yeijin Han?

She was still useful.

Joon took another slow drag from his cigarette.

"She doesn't know anything" he pointed out. "She doesn't know where her father is. She doesn't know where the money is. She's nothing but a loose end."

Minjae's jaw tightened, but his expression didn't change.

"And?"

"And"Joon said, voice calm, measured, like he was trying to reason with a man who had already made up his mind, "if she's a loose end, why not cut it?"

Minjae didn't answer.

The city lights flickered over his sharp profile, the reflection of red and blue neon signs casting faint shadows across his cheekbones.

Joon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"She's twenty." he muttered. "Barely more than a kid."

Minjae chuckled.

"She's legal."

Joon shot him a flat look.

"That's not the point."

Minjae smirked but didn't say anything.

Joon let the silence stretch between them, letting his cigarette burn down to the filter before flicking it out the window.

Finally, he said, "She's not your type."

Minjae laughed. Actually laughed.

"My type?" he echoed, amused.

Joon didn't look at him.

"You like women who know how to play the game," he said simply. "She doesn't. She's too soft. Too naive. Too—"

Breakable.

He didn't say it.

He didn't have to.

Minjae's fingers drummed against the wheel.

Soft.

Naive.

Breakable.

Yes.

Yes, she was.

And yet—

Yet, she was still here.

Joon sighed, running a hand over his shaved head.

"Look, you do whatever the fuck you want, but you're wasting time." he muttered. "She's not a bargaining chip. She's not leverage. The Minister isn't coming back for her. Hell, no one's even looking for her. So what's the point?"

Minjae didn't respond right away.

Because that was the point, wasn't it?

No one was coming for her.

No one was looking.

She had nowhere to go.

And that?

That made her his.

Finally, he tilted his head, glancing at Joon with a slow, easy smirk.

"Who said I needed a reason?"

Joon exhaled, shaking his head again.

"Oh God." he muttered.

Minjae chuckled, eyes back on the road, fingers tapping idly against the wheel.

Joon didn't push anymore.

Because he knew.

Kang Minjae never did anything without a reason.

Even if he refused to say it out loud.

Even if he refused to admit it to himself.

Minjae took a slow turn, the soft purr of the engine barely audible as they neared the quieter part of the city.

"You spoke with Seo Dongwook yet?" he asked.

Joon nodded, stretching his arms against the leather seat.

"Yeah. He's settling in nicely. Just like we planned."

Minjae chuckled.

The Minister's replacement.

A puppet.

A temporary one.

Seo Dongwook thought he had power now. Thought he had won when he took over Han Tae-Won's vacant seat.

He would learn soon enough.

He wasn't there to rule.

He was there to fall.

The real power grab wasn't for him. It was for the man Minjae would put in his place once Seo inevitably collapsed under the weight of his own incompetence.

Joon sighed, rubbing his temple.

"This'll be easy. The guy's already fucking up. Give him a few months, he'll be so buried in his own corruption that when we replace him, no one will question it."

"Good. And the accounts?"

"Cleaned. Moved. No loose ends."

Minjae nodded, satisfied.

Soon, this would all be wrapped up.

The Minister—dead the moment they found him.

The political seat—secure in their control.

The financials—untouchable.

Which only left…

Minjae's fingers tightened slightly against the wheel.

Her.

Yeijin.

Joon was right—she had no real value.

She wasn't leverage. She wasn't a threat.

She was nothing.

So why did he still have her?