Midnight - 2:00 AM | The Glacial Manor
The silence at The Glacial Manor didn't just exist; it breathed. It was a sprawling, wide fortress, tucked so far away from the city's pulse that the only thing you could hear was the wind against the glass. To enter was to lose the way back.
​Inside, a Sheet Lahar—a clinical, freezing wave—flowed through the corridors. Every room stood hollow, echoing with the stillness of a soul that had already packed its bags to leave this world behind.
​THUD. THUD.
The sound of boots cut through the void. A clean, rhythmic, and dangerously attractive stride.
​"Sir Choi?" the young man's voice called out.
​The butler turned, his breath hitching. "Master Jihoon." He hurried forward, the weight of years in his knees. "Please, Master, wait... Master Ivan has not returned yet."
​"It's alright, Sir Choi," Jihoon replied, his voice a soft blade. "I'll wait."
​He stood there like a piece of white porcelain—light pink hair and deep, ink-blue eyes that commanded the room like royalty. He didn't offer small talk; he moved toward the inner chambers. But something was wrong. Despite his beauty, the room's aura remained pitch black.
​Sir Choi watched him go. He had worked for Ivan for years. He had seen them grow from children to adults; he was like a parent to them. He had seen everything. He had seen the blood. And he had seen the one thing he was never supposed to see.
​The moment Jihoon stepped into the room, his soft gaze hardened into a dark, jagged knife.
​Ring. Ring.
He ignored it at first, peeling away layers of silk and fabric, wanting only to submerge himself in the softness of the bed. But the ringing was persistent—a digital parasite. He stopped mid-motion and answered.
​"What do you want?" He rolled his eyes.
​A husky, playful voice drifted from the other side. "Oh my, my... our little kitty sounds pissed. Who got you worked up, huh?"
​Jihoon didn't respond. His eyes drowned in a sea of silent rage. On the other side of the phone was a man named Alex. If he were standing in front of him, Jihoon would have shattered his jaw.
​"Stop the nonsense," Jihoon hissed, leaning back against the edge of the bed and brushing his pink hair away from his face. "Tell me why you called, or I'm hanging up."
​"Wait, wait..." The mocking tone shifted into a malicious, low song. "We found him. The person you wanted. His name is Rivert. That rat has been working as an undercover agent for the past four years under The Vane."
​Silence. Then—a slow, dark smirk cracked across Jihoon's face. It was the twisted joy of a child who had finally been promised their candy.
​"Send me the data," Jihoon commanded.
​"And what do I get?" Alex asked immediately.
​"What do you want?"
​"There's a meeting at President Wilson's estate. You know the kind of party. Come and spread your legs for us, why don't you?"
​A wave of familiar disgust washed over Jihoon. Calm down, he told himself.
​"You know, Sir Alex," Jihoon said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I have a very fierce dog. And he doesn't like to share his owner. If you don't back off, he will bite until your skeleton shows through your skin."
​A mad laugh broke through the line. "Oopsie. I completely forgot about him. My bad. I'll send the data."
​Call ended.
Jihoon sighed, closing his eyes. For a second, he saw it: dust dancing under the sun. A memory of him and his lover, laughing. Then—the demon appeared—the one who snatched beautiful things and turned them into perfect, hollow dolls.
​Suddenly, a heavy weight pressed against his chest. A giant figure loomed over him, blotting out the light. The sensation of that touch sent a chilling thrill down his spine. Ivan pressed his lower half against Jihoon, pinning him to the mattress with the sheer force of his frame. He kissed Jihoon fiercely, claiming him until his lips were swollen and bruised.
​Jihoon didn't fight it. He simply let the darkness swallow him.
​"Who were you talking to on the phone... Master?"
​Ivan pressed his weight down, a 6'3" Greek god of muscle and suppressed violence. His asymmetrical eyes were dark with a hunger that bordered on worship. "So, our young master isn't going to tell me who he was talking to?"
​Ivan's voice was a low vibration against Jihoon's skin. Jihoon didn't move. He lay there, 5'8" of porcelain defiance, letting the "Mad Dog" do as he pleased. He knew he was the only soul on earth who could hold Ivan's leash.
​Then—with a sudden, fluid grace—Jihoon hooked his legs around Ivan's thighs and flipped him. Now, the smaller man sat atop the giant. The power dynamic shifted in an instant. Jihoon looked down at him, his pink hair messy, his blue eyes glowing.
​"I like the look in your eyes," Jihoon whispered to himself. Ivan didn't look shocked; he smirked. He loved the rebellion.
​"I found the person," Jihoon said, his voice breathless as he moved with a slow, agonizing pleasure.
​Ivan's gaze stayed locked on his. Despair is rotting the world outside, Ivan thought, and here is my Master, talking about another man while I'm losing myself in him. It's not fair.
​"So, what kind of man did you find?" Ivan asked.
​"Let's take a break, Ivan." Jihoon pulled away, reaching for a silk blanket to shroud himself. He lit a cigarette, the tip glowing like a warning light in the dim room. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Ivan's for a fleeting second before passing the smoke.
​"The Vane."
​The room went cold. Ivan's face turned into a mask of stone. His eyes, usually clouded with lust, were suddenly sharp—furious. He had promised to be Jihoon's only weapon, yet Jihoon had gone elsewhere for his data.
​"Young Master, I told you to leave this to me," Ivan hissed. "Why ask some bastard to do my job? I promised I would bring you your goal."
​"I don't want a 'child's promise' anymore, Ivan," Jihoon replied, his eyes turning into a void. "I need to see outcomes. I've crawled through hell just to get close enough to kill that bastard with my own hands. The time for waiting is over."
​Jihoon laughed—a dark, sharp sound. He snapped in the moment, knowing he finally had the perfect pawn for his revenge.
​"Choi Minseok. Code name: Rivert. An undercover agent for the government. What an idiot... he didn't realize the rat was already in the house while he was busy setting traps outside."
​Jihoon leaned closer—a mischievous, unnatural smile playing on his lips—a smile reserved only for his dog. "You will bring him to me. Right, Honey?"
​It was a tease. He knew Ivan would go to the ends of the earth for him. Ivan reached out, his large hand caressing Jihoon's foot, pulling it to his lips. A kiss. A vow.
​"Anything for you, Master," Ivan murmured against his skin. "But... even a dog needs a reward for his gratitude, don't you think?"
​Ivan's tongue traced a path from Jihoon's toes to his ankle, his eyes never leaving Jihoon's. The hunger was returning—sharper than before. Jihoon gripped Ivan's blond hair, pulling his head back.
​"Don't be greedy," he warned, his face expressionless. "You know how much this matters. Wait until I have my hands on The Vane."
​"Revenge is like a sweet delicacy," Jihoon thought, his gaze drifting toward the blank, clinical wall of the bedroom. "It tastes best after a heavy dinner."
​Ivan watched him, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he plotted the words in his fragile heart. Then I'll make sure you never run out of enemies, he thought. Just so you have to come back to me, over and over again.