Black Blood
Yoon and Joon
The sleek, glass-paneled office at the top of Yoon Corporation's headquarters was quiet. Yoon Seo, the company's stoic CEO, sat at his desk, reviewing files while the city skyline glowed in the background. A knock interrupted the silence.
Yoon
“Send him in,” Yoon said without looking up
The door opened, and a man stepped in. He was taller than most, his frame solid and imposing. He had sharp, dark eyes that sized up the room with an air of defiance. Dressed in a simple leather jacket and jeans, Joon Han looked completely out of place.
Joon
“You’re the boss?” Joon asked, his tone clipped.
Yoon finally looked up. There was something strangely familiar about the man standing before him, but he couldn’t place it. Shaking off the thought, he rose to his feet.
Yoon
“I’m Yoon Seo, yes. You must be Han Joon, the boxer.”
Joon
Joon crossed his arms. “Yeah, but let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here for the job. I don’t babysit rich guys who can’t fight their own battles.”
Yoon’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he calmly walked around his desk and stood directly in front of Joon.
Yoon
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he said, his voice cold but composed. “I need someone capable of protecting me from credible threats. If that’s not you, you’re free to leave.”
Joon
Joon smirked, leaning closer. “You think money can buy everything, huh?”
Yoon
“Not everything,” Yoon replied, meeting his gaze. For a moment, their eyes locked, and an unexplainable tension filled the air.
Joon
Joon stepped back, shaking his head. “This was a waste of time.” Without another word, he turned and left, the sound of the door slamming echoing behind him.
A week passed before Yoon heard Joon’s name again. The threats against him had escalated, and his advisors were more insistent than ever about hiring personal security. Against his better judgment, Yoon decided to approach Joon himself.
He found him at a dimly lit boxing gym, throwing punches at a heavy bag. Sweat glistened on Joon’s skin as he moved with precision and power.
Joon
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Joon said without turning around. “But I already said no.”
Yoon
“I’m not here to beg,” Yoon replied. “I’m here because you’re the best.”
Joon
Joon paused, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “Flattery won’t work, Mr. CEO.”
Yoon
“It’s not flattery. It’s a fact.” Yoon’s voice was steady, but beneath his calm exterior, he felt that strange pull again—like he’d known Joon long before this moment. “I know you’re not afraid of a challenge. So why run from this one?”
Joon
Joon laughed, tossing the towel aside. “Run? You’ve got it backward. I don’t waste my time protecting guys like you.”
Yoon
Yoon took a step closer. “What do you mean by ‘guys like me’?”
Joon
Joon hesitated, then muttered under his breath, “You’ve always been like this, haven’t you, Yoon-ah?”
The name slipped out so naturally, it took a moment for both of them to register it. Joon froze, his eyes widening slightly. Yoon’s heart skipped a beat.
Yoon
“What did you just call me?” Yoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Joon
“Nothing,” Joon said quickly, turning away. “Forget it.”
But Yoon couldn’t forget it. The way Joon said his name felt like a memory—distant but vivid, like a fragment of a dream he couldn’t quite grasp.
The turning point came at a high-profile charity gala. Yoon was in attendance, dressed in his usual tailored suit, mingling with the city’s elite. The atmosphere was lively until chaos erupted.
Gunshots rang out, and screams filled the hall. Yoon’s security team scrambled, but their efforts were disorganized. Amid the chaos, a figure emerged—Joon, moving with the speed and precision of a seasoned fighter.
Joon
“Get down!” Joon barked, shoving Yoon behind a marble pillar.
Yoon
“What are you doing here?” Yoon asked, shocked.
Joon
“Saving your ass, apparently,” Joon muttered, landing a punch on an approaching assailant.
Once the attackers were subdued and the police arrived, Yoon and Joon found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the building.
Yoon
“You didn’t have to do that,” Yoon said.
Joon
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you die before you figured out how to take care of yourself,” Joon replied with a smirk.
Yoon
For the first time in years, Yoon smiled—a small, fleeting smile, but a smile nonetheless. “So does this mean you’re accepting the job?”
Joon
Joon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas. This is just business.”
Yoon
“Of course,” Yoon said, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise.
Weeks passed, and Joon settled into his role as Yoon’s bodyguard. Despite his initial reluctance, he found himself strangely protective of the CEO. Meanwhile, Yoon couldn’t shake the feeling that their connection ran deeper than he understood.
Joon
One night, over drinks in Yoon’s penthouse, Joon broke the silence. “Do you ever feel like… you’ve lost something? Or someone?”
Yoon
Yoon stared into his glass. “Every day,” he admitted.
Joon
“I don’t know,” Joon said, his voice softer than usual. “But when I look at you… it feels like I’ve known you forever.”
Yoon didn’t respond, but in his heart, he knew Joon was right. Their story was far from over—this was only the beginning.
Shadow of the past
The room smelled of wax and blood. The flickering candles cast long shadows on the stone walls, their dim light barely reaching the far corners of the room. Yoon clutched Joon’s trembling hand, his fingers ice-cold despite the heat of the flames.
Yoon
“It’ll be okay,” Yoon whispered, though his voice wavered. He didn’t believe the words, and he knew Joon didn’t either.
Their father stood at the altar, his face unreadable, the same man who had once told them bedtime stories and laughed at their antics. Now he loomed over them, his eyes alight with a zeal that turned him into a stranger.
Joon
“We’ll always be together,” Joon whispered back, his voice barely audible.
Yoon nodded, squeezing his hand tighter as their father began to chant. The words were ancient, incomprehensible, but the weight of them settled over the room like a heavy fog.
Yoon glanced at Joon one last time before the darkness consumed them both.
****
Yoon jolted awake, his chest heaving. The luxury of his penthouse surrounded him—polished floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline—but he felt none of its warmth.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to shake the lingering memory of the dream. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
Jade
“Sir,” his assistant’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Your 9 a.m. meeting is in twenty minutes.”
Yoon
“I’ll be there,” Yoon replied, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. He slipped out of bed and into his cold, unyielding routine, the dream already fading into the back of his mind.
But the emptiness lingered. It always did. ****
The crowd roared as Joon landed the final punch, his opponent crumpling to the mat. The referee stepped in, waving his hands, but Joon barely registered it. He stood in the center of the ring, his fists raised high, sweat dripping from his brow.
Another win. Another night. Another fight to keep the ghosts at bay.
Kim
“Han!” his trainer barked as Joon ducked out of the ring. “Good work out there.”
Joon grunted in response, pulling off his gloves. He didn’t fight for glory, and he didn’t fight for applause. He fought because it was the only thing that made sense.
Mr. Eun
As he walked toward the locker room, his manager intercepted him. “Hey, got a job offer for you. Some big-shot CEO needs a bodyguard. Pays well.”
Joon
Joon snorted. “Bodyguard? Not my thing. Tell him to find someone else.”
Mr. Eun
“Think about it,” his manager pressed. “This guy’s loaded. Could set you up for life.”
Joon shook his head and walked away. Babysitting rich men wasn’t in his plans. He had enough problems of his own.
Later, as he sat alone in the dimly lit gym, wrapping his knuckles for the next round of training, a face flashed in his mind—a face eerily similar to his own. He paused, the image slipping away as quickly as it came.
Joon
“Just tired,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head and returning to his routine.
But deep down, a spark of unease lingered, one he couldn’t quite explain.
Encrypted alliances
Tae stepped into the dimly lit office, the faint smell of burnt coffee hanging in the air. The space was cluttered with wires, monitors, and the faint hum of computer servers. He was used to working in chaos, but this felt different—like stepping into someone else's world entirely.
Seated at the far end of the room was Seok, his face lit by the glow of multiple screens. He didn’t look up as Tae entered, his fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced ease. His sharp suit seemed out of place amidst the disarray, but the calm, focused energy he exuded made it clear he was entirely at home.
Tae
Tae cleared his throat. “You’re Seok, right? The hacker?”
Seok
Seok finally looked up, his expression unreadable as he sized up the man standing before him. “Detective Tae. You’re late.”
Tae
Tae smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Sorry if I didn’t sprint over the second they told me I’d be meeting a guy who probably breaks more laws in a week than I solve in a month.”
Seok
Seok’s lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. “And yet, here you are. So, what’s the case?”
Tae
Tae stepped forward, dropping a file onto the nearest desk. “Corporate fraud. Big company, big money, and a digital trail that’s gone cold. My tech guys couldn’t crack it, so I’ve been told you’re the guy who can.”
Seok
Seok flipped open the file, his eyes scanning the contents with practiced efficiency. “This isn’t just fraud,” he said after a moment. “It’s layered, intentional. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
Tae
“Yeah, well, that’s why I’m here,” Tae said, crossing his arms. “You’re supposed to be the best at pulling threads. Think you can handle it?”
Seok
Seok glanced up, meeting Tae’s eyes with an expression that bordered on amused. “Handle it? This is child’s play. The real question is whether you’ll be able to keep up.”
Tae
Tae laughed, low and sharp. “Funny. I was just about to say the same thing to you.”
Without another word, Seok turned back to his computer, pulling up a series of encrypted files. Tae moved to stand behind him, watching the screen as lines of code scrolled by faster than he could follow.
Seok
“Most people don’t realize how much of their lives they leave online,” Seok said, his tone casual. “Passwords, purchases, conversations... You’d be amazed how much you can uncover if you know where to look.”
Tae
Tae raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how much of my life do you know already?”
Seok
Seok’s fingers paused for just a moment before resuming. “Enough to know you’ve got a bad habit of drinking too much coffee and skipping sleep before major cases.”
Tae
Tae blinked, then snorted. “Great. My whole life story.”
Seok
“Relax, Detective,” Seok replied, his tone as smooth as ever. “You’re not that interesting.”
As Seok worked, Tae couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the man felt... familiar. Not in the way you recognize someone from the news or from a file, but in a way that lingered, tugging at the edges of memory.
Seok, for his part, found himself glancing at Tae more than he should. There was something in the detective’s sharp gaze, in the way he carried himself, that struck a chord he couldn’t quite place.
Neither of them said anything about it, though. They were here to work, nothing more.
Seok
“I’ve got something,” Seok said suddenly, breaking the silence. “The encryption key leads to a shadow server. I can crack it, but it’s going to take time.”
Tae
“How much time?” Tae asked.
Seok
“A day, maybe two. Depends on how well it’s hidden.”
Tae
Tae nodded, stepping back. “Fine. Just keep me updated. And don’t go digging into anything you’re not supposed to.”
Seok
Seok shot him a sly look. “No promises.”
As Tae left the office, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be working with Seok. Something about the hacker intrigued him—beyond his skill, beyond his arrogance. It was something deeper, though Tae couldn’t put his finger on it.
Seok, watching the door close behind Tae, felt much the same. For reasons he couldn’t explain, the detective’s presence lingered in his mind, stirring echoes of something he’d long forgotten.
Neither of them knew it yet, but this case was only the beginning of a connection that would soon uncover far more than either of them expected.
The sound of the city at night was a constant hum, filtering through the half-open window of Tae’s small apartment. He sat at the edge of his unmade bed, the faint glow of a table lamp casting shadows across the room. His tie was loosened, his shirt wrinkled after a long day at work, but Tae hadn’t even bothered to kick off his shoes. His gaze was fixed on the framed photo on the bedside table.
It was a simple picture—a younger Tae with his sister, Hyejin. They were standing on a beach, smiling, carefree in a way Tae barely remembered. He ran a hand over his face, sighing deeply. It had been weeks since she last picked up his calls.
His phone buzzed on the table, dragging him out of his thoughts. Tae grabbed it, hopeful for a moment, but his face fell when he saw the screen. It wasn’t her. It was a message from a colleague about an ongoing case. Another robbery, another long night ahead.
He thought about ignoring it, just for a few hours, but the idea felt foreign. Tae wasn’t the kind of man who let work wait. Work was what kept him grounded—or at least, that’s what he told himself.
In the kitchen, the coffee pot was still half-full, the brew from this morning gone cold. Tae poured a mug anyway, drinking it black and bitter. His eyes drifted to the pile of unopened letters on the counter. Most of them were bills, but a few were from Hyejin. She liked to write letters, even in a world dominated by texts and emails. It was her way of reminding him to slow down, to think, to feel.
But Tae had stopped reading them months ago. Not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t have answers to the questions she always asked. *Why do you work so much? When will you take a break? Do you even care about yourself anymore?*
The truth was, Tae didn’t know how to answer her. He’d buried himself in his work for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d recognize himself outside of it. The cases, the puzzles, the chase—they gave him purpose. They were something he could control in a world that often felt out of reach.
Later that night, Tae found himself at his favorite late-night diner, a place that smelled of grease and old coffee. The waitress, a woman in her sixties who’d been working there since before he became a detective, gave him a knowing look as she poured his usual.
Nancy
“Rough day?” she asked.
Tae
“Something like that,” Tae replied, stirring sugar into his coffee.
She didn’t push. She never did. That’s why he came here—it was one of the few places where he didn’t have to explain himself.
As he stared out the window, watching the occasional car pass by, his thoughts drifted to the recurring dreams that had plagued him for weeks. The flicker of firelight, shadows dancing on walls, the faint echo of voices he didn’t recognize but felt he should. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they meant something, though he didn’t have the time—or energy—to figure out what.
**** At two in the morning, Tae returned to his apartment, the city quiet now except for the occasional siren in the distance. He turned on the bedside lamp, pulled off his tie, and sat down on the bed again. The photo of him and Hyejin caught his eye once more, and this time, he picked it up.
The smile on her face was so bright, so full of life. It made him ache in a way he couldn’t put into words. He thought about calling her, about trying again, but he knew it wouldn’t end well. Hyejin wanted answers, and Tae only had excuses.
Instead, he grabbed the pile of letters from the kitchen counter and brought them to the bed. The first one was dated months ago. He opened it carefully, as if the paper itself might crumble under his touch.
*Tae,* it read, *I know you think work is the only thing that matters, but it’s not. You’ve got people who care about you—me, your friends, your team. Stop pretending you’re fine all the time. Stop pushing us away.*
He folded the letter neatly and set it aside. He didn’t need to read the rest. He already knew what she was going to say.
As the city outside began to stir with the first hints of dawn, Tae lay back on the bed, his arm over his eyes. He told himself he’d call her tomorrow, that he’d make time to talk.
But deep down, he knew tomorrow would come, and the phone would stay silent.
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