Chapter 19: The Devil Wears No Mask
He hadn't used this name in years.
The Ghost of Gwanak.
Whispers of him used to echo in underground corners of Seoul, a legend wrapped in violence, secrets, and blood. But that ghost had been buried beneath Armani suits and billion-won deals—until now.
They took Seo-Ah.
And now, all bets were off.
He left his penthouse through a side elevator that hadn't been used since his last job—years before he became the Lee Financial Corporation's golden heir. The ride was silent, descending not just through steel and cement, but into a past he swore he'd never revisit.
He contacted no one.
No security detail.
No staff.
Just one name, dialed from a secure phone buried in his old car's lining.
"Hello?"
"Jae-Rok," Min-Jun said.
A pause. "Min-Jun…? That Min-Jun?"
"Get me into K-Black. Tell them I'm alive. And tell them to open the back room."
The line went dead.
---
The Underworld – K-Black Private Casino, Seoul
K-Black wasn't on any map. Hidden beneath an abandoned noodle factory, it was the throne room of Seoul's most dangerous syndicates. Drug lords, arms dealers, human traffickers—it was hell dressed in velvet.
Jae-Rok was waiting.
He hadn't changed—still slim, still twitchy, still playing both sides. But his eyes widened as Min-Jun stepped in.
"You're really—back," he muttered. "They said you'd died. Or run."
"I did both," Min-Jun said coldly. "And now I'm here to finish it."
Jae-Rok swallowed. "The girl—they moved her to Warehouse 9. They're baiting you. They think they can control you."
Min-Jun's lip curled. "They forget who I was."
Jae-Rok hesitated, then handed over a flash drive. "Blueprints. Internal surveillance. They've changed leadership—some new rat calling himself Hwan. Kidnaps, threats, drugs—he runs chaos like it's an empire. He's expecting you."
"Good," Min-Jun replied. "Let him."
---
Warehouse 9 – Infiltration
The night cloaked him like an old friend. The streets near the warehouse were silent, save for the occasional dog bark or hum of far-off traffic. A rusted fence surrounded the building. Security cameras blinked like cold eyes.
Min-Jun studied their blind spots, mapped their rotations.
He was a shadow when he slipped inside, knife sheathed at his side, silencer loaded. The corridors were dim, reeking of old smoke and oil.
He moved with precision.
Two guards.
One pressure-point takedown.
The other choked silently, falling with a dull thud.
He reached the observation room and yanked the USB from Jae-Rok into the terminal. Cameras lit up.
Seo-Ah POV.
Bound to a chair. Blood on her lip. Bruises blooming on her cheek.
He clenched the mouse until the plastic cracked.
Then came a voice from behind.
"You shouldn't have come alone, Lord Min-Jun."
He turned, slowly.
It was Hwan.
Tall. Grinning. Holding a gun.
"You crawled out of your glass tower just to die for a woman?" Hwan sneered. "How noble."
Min-Jun's eyes were ice. "No. I came to remind you what fear tastes like."
The next second was a blur.
A flick of the wrist—Min-Jun's hidden blade sliced upward, catching Hwan's wrist. The gun dropped. A sharp elbow to the jaw sent the man crashing into the desk.
Min-Jun didn't stop.
He moved like lightning—relentless, merciless. By the time Hwan tried to crawl away, bloodied and dazed, Min-Jun had the silencer aimed at his chest.
"You took the wrong person."
A shot cracked.
Silence returned.
He stood over Hwan's limp body, chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline. His hand still gripped the silencer, the weight of it both comforting and suffocating. He let the weapon fall to the floor with a soft clang, a sound that seemed too sharp in the stillness of the room. The air was thick with blood—his, Hwan's, the scent of violence. But it didn't matter.
What mattered now was Seo-Ah.
The sight of her, bound and broken, pushed the darkness back. The sharp edges of his memories, his past, the people he had been forced to become—they all dissolved into something else, something raw and real.
He moved swiftly toward her, forcing the door open that led to the holding area.
There she was.
Seo-Ah.
Her face, pale and bruised, eyes swollen from the violence they had inflicted on her. But even in that pitiful state, there was a spark—something he'd never seen in her eyes before, something fierce. Even though she was a prisoner, bound to a chair, she was alive.
His breath hitched at the sight. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. The words felt foreign in his throat, as if nothing could ever express what he felt at that moment.
He kneeled in front of her, his heart pounding, his voice low. "Seo-Ah…"
Her gaze flickered up, recognition slow to take hold.
"Min-Jun?" Her voice was hoarse, raw, but alive.
He didn't hesitate. He unlatched the ropes that bound her wrists, his fingers shaking, though he hid it well. "I'm here. I'm not leaving you."
"Why did you—why did you come back?" she asked, struggling to sit up. Her body was weak from the ordeal, but her eyes still held that defiant fire. "You could have... you didn't have to."
"I had to," he whispered. "I had to. You matter too much to me. More than I realized."
As he helped her stand, the sounds of distant sirens echoed in the background. The police would be here soon, but they were too late. The men who'd held Seo-Ah weren't the only ones who had secrets to hide.
The silence that followed between them was charged, heavy with words unsaid.
Seo-Ah's legs wobbled as Min-Jun steadied her, but she forced herself to stand tall, ignoring the pounding pain in her head and the bitter taste of blood in her mouth. She could see the blood on his shirt, the rage in his eyes—he was different now. Different from the man she had known, the man who stood cold and distant in his sleek office.
This was a side of him she'd never seen. The side he had buried beneath layers of wealth, power, and pride.
Her gaze locked with his, searching for any sign of the man she had once thought she understood.
"Min-Jun," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "who are you really?"