Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Seungkwan
"Seungkwan! For the love of God, would you please stop?!"
My head had been drooped between my shoulders, hands braced on either side of my temple, before I jumped to attention.
Seeing my bewildered and confused face, the fellow officer clarified, "You're shaking the fucking pens off my desk with that stupid leg."
I quickly stilled, realizing I had been anxiously bouncing my legs for God knows how long.
The officer's expression softened a bit. "Can't have you shaking that thing right off the wall," –He gestured at the painting hanging behind me– "And giving yourself a concussion."
"Sorry." I inclined my head and offered a strained smile.
It looked like the officer was going to say something more, perhaps offer some small reassurance that everything would be okay, but whatever it was died in his eyes. He just shook his head and let out a deep sigh, continuing with his work on his computer.
Now that my legs had stilled, I was unable to ignore my heartbeat thundering against my chest and in my ears. My hands were also shaking but no matter what I did, I couldn't still them. Dread washed over me as the weight of what happened cashed over me anew.
I saw something.
Something I shouldn't have.
The chief of police, Park Dong Hyun, and a few other fellow officers with the most feared mafia in Seoul.
I had been patrolling a particularly dead part of the city one evening when I noticed another patrol car parked outside of a wearhouse. No one else was supposed to be in this area, unless I had somehow missed something on the radio. Finding it strange I parked next to the other car and found that it was empty.
I tried to look through the holes in the high chain link fence that stretched around the perimeter but I didn't see any signs of the officers. No one responded when I tried the radios which turned my curiosity into concern.
Cautiously, I entered the premises under probable cause with my hand hovering over my holster. As I circled the perimeter of the wearhouse, I found an unmarked black SUV and a matte black and silver motorbike parked outside a 10 ft high garage door. I crept closer to the bike to confirm my suspicions; it was suited up with some highly illegal parts. No license plate and obviously built for speed.
Just then, I could faintly hear the sound of conversation coming from inside the building. I looked for a way in but the garage doors would make too much sound and there were no doors on this long side of the wearhouse. There were, however, several dusty windows scattered along the walls. I couldn't see through the murky glass so I quietly walked until I found one that was broken on one corner.
Straining on my tiptoes, I could just barely see inside. I quickly scanned the building; it was quite empty aside from some metal barrels, wooden crates, and pallet boards. In the far corner, close to the garage doors so that I couldn't see them very well, we're multiple figures. Since they were obscured from my sight, I pressed my ear close to the hole to see if I could make out anything being said.
"--Can't be bothered to come here himself?" A harsh yet familiar voice said.
"He has many things to attend to. I can assure you he means no offense to you, chief ." A smooth and relaxed voice responded.
Chief? No… Surely not.
"And we're not a priority?" The gruff voice continued. "My men and I bend over backwards for you people. We risk our reputation and our safety every time we look the other way. Or does the little master not view our sacrifices as lucrative–"
There was a barely audible rustle of clothing but then a gravely gasp of what I assumed was shock.
The cool and collected voice then bit out in a deadly calm tone, "You would do well to remember your place in all this, Chief Park. While your cooperation is valuable to our operation, you and your men are replaceable. And your value certainly does not earn you the right to disrespect Master Lee."
He said more but I couldn't make it out. The weight of what I had just heard was beginning to crash over me. That was most definitely the chief of police. And from what I know, there's only one person in the criminal underworld who could have enough power to control the police…
Woozi.
The public knows him as Lee Ji-hoon, a rich yet humble young man who inherited his father's company. He makes a few public appearances by attending charities and wealthy dinner parties but other than that, he's known for being a workaholic and extremely reclusive. However, we know him by another name. Woozi is at the top of the criminal food chain. The mafia boss of the most notorious and powerful group in South Korea, Seventeen.
We've known Lee Ji-hoon is the head of Seventeen for a long time now but based on his case file, we have no concrete evidence. Nothing ever seems to stick to him and now, I think I know why.
I had to get a better look. Plenty of people could sound like Chief Park. It could be a detective or someone else high ranking in our department. Assumptions could get me in big trouble with a situation like this.
I glanced around for something, anything to get just a few inches higher. Under the next window over, a spicket jutted out of the wall. I wasn't that heavy… It could hold me. I could probably step up on that for just a little bit and get a clear enough view to confirm my suspicions.
I gingerly stepped up onto the faucet and pulled myself up slowly to the window sill. The window was dusty and grimy but only from the outside. I spit into my glove and carefully wiped a small circle big enough for one eye to look through.
Without the hole in the window, I was unable to hear their conversation but I could see much better
My heart sank. It was the chief of police and two other of my fellow officers.
I caught the other man, presumably the calm and collected voice, released the chief from his grip on his tie. He had had the chef's necktie wrapped around his knuckle and speaking inches from his face.
I didn't recognize his face but he carried himself like someone of importance. His dark brown hair was combed back with a few strands hanging over one of his eyebrows. It was hard to see clearly but the overall shape of his face–soft features, full lips, kind eyes, defined jawline–was beautiful and pleasant to look at. However, the expression he wore on his perfectly symmetrical face was cold and his gentle smirk did not reach his eyes.
He straightened his obviously expensive, tailor made suite and took one long step back with a single fluid motion. The chief adjusted his tie, seeming flustered yet trying to remain composed, and said something short back to the man. In response, the man nodded curtly and started to turn to leave.
All of the sudden, the spicket snapped from underneath me, scraping my leg on the way down, and I staggered and fell back.
The whole world froze.
My heart wasn't beating. I wasn't breathing. I couldn't hear anything.
I just sat on my butt like an idiot, completely in shock.
It took all my will power just to turn my head to look around, force my body to respond.
My eyes widened as I locked on to someone crouch-crawling out from under the partially opened garage door. The heavy metal door crashed loudly behind him as he released his grip on it and came running towards me. The sound completely snapped me out of my trance and I scrambled to my feet, the distance between me and my pursuer quickly shrinking.
As an officer, I've been training to run quickly and efficiently, hyper aware of my foot placement and terrain. However, I've always been the one chasing the bad guys. Being chased, all of my training, form, and mental acuteness flew out the window. In any other situation, I'm sure I looked hilarious, flailing and staggering for all I was worth.
The air was violently knocked out of me as my assailant lunged at me, tackling me to the ground. I frantically clawed at the pavement, trying desperately to get away, but he was too strong. I was roughly thrown onto my back and face to face with my attacker.
I expected it to be the handsome suit guy but it was someone else entirely. Fierce, russet brown eyes bore into, what felt like, my soul. The term "fiery eyes" suddenly became clear to me. His brows were dramatically angled down close over his burning eyes. He had a full bottom lip and thin yet curvy upper lip that was curved into a snarl.
I tried to will my eyes to look over him, get a criminal profile just in case I survived this, but his intense glare was like a magnet to me. I couldn't tear my eyes away.
I wouldn't say that I was even scared of him, but rather everything about him felt like an adrenaline rush. He wasn't winded at all even though he had to have run a good 20 plus feet to catch me. His body shook with pure rage, like there was something violent and dangerous simmering just under the surface, trying to claw its way out.
"P-please." Was all I could gasp out.
Something changed slightly in his expression but before I could comprehend what it was, he yanked me up by my collar. He was straddling me so we were chest to chest, face to face when he pulled me close. Normally, I would have something sarcastic or quippy to say, but all I could do was just stare, mouth gaped open in shock.
He smirked at my dumbstruck face before tilting his head and saying,"'Please'? Are you serious?" He scoffed before shouting, "This one of yours, chief?"
Over his shoulder, I saw Chief Park and the other two officers hastily jogging up to us. The suited man walked leisurely behind them.
The chief locked eyes with me.
"Damnit, Seungkwan!" He yelled, stomping over.
The guy grabbing me gave me one last skeptical yet coy glance, looked back over his shoulder, and then sarcastically opened his hands, dropping me flat on my back. I winced as I propped myself up in my elbows, eye darting between everyone.
Just as I was beginning to push myself up, I got shoved right back down again. The chief paced around me, running his hands through his buzz cut hair, before barking, "Out of all the people–" He made a frustrated noise. "It had to be fucking you, Seungkwah."
Oh yeah. I'm dead.
"I trust that this will be handled properly?" The one in the suit said with a dangerous edge in his gentle voice.
"Damnit…" The chief muttered under his breath, avoiding eye contact with me. "Of course," he said louder. "Consider it handled."
"Good. If you don't tie up your loose ends, I will." He nodded to the one who tackled me, and then turned to leave.
I was still getting a hole burned into me with the other one's glare. Now that he wasn't on top of me, I could get a better look at him. It was instantly obvious that he was the owner of the suped up bike. A sporty, black leather, motorcycle jacket; a white sleeveless shirt, distressed black jeans, biker gloves, and chunky leather boots? Oh yeah this is the guy.
"Vernon, let's go." The handsome one called.
The aggressive biker, " Vernon ", started, like he had been deep in thought. I realized he had been staring past me when his dark brown eyes flicked towards mine. Before I could even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he strided off after his "friend".
After they turned the corner and we heard engines start, one of the other officers let out a sigh like he had been holding his breath the entire time. The other lended out his hand and helped me back on my feet. They both looked at me like I was a patient with a terminal illness. Which, I guess in some ways, I'm pretty similar to. I discovered that the Seoul Police department is working with the most powerful mafia group. I'm on borrowed time and I'll be lucky if I make it out of this alive.
The sound of the motorbike fades and the chief mutters something under his breath. Turning to me, he looks me over before sighing, "Go home for the day, Seungkwan."
I almost wish they had shot me then and there because that was a week ago.