Chapter 3 – Light in Darkness

The mansion was always too quiet at night. The silence pressed down like a weight, broken only by the hum of distant city traffic or the occasional echo of footsteps in the hall. Tae sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the faint scars that trailed across his arms. He never liked looking at them, but sometimes it felt impossible to look away. They reminded him of what he had survived, of what he could never escape.

For someone so feared in the mafia world, he felt small when he was alone. Cold. Fragile. Like the darkness would swallow him whole if he blinked too long.

And then, like he always did, Jimin walked in.

“Tae.” His voice was soft, almost like he was afraid to break something delicate. He leaned against the doorframe, his presence instantly filling the emptiness of the room. Jimin never needed to say much—he just was. Light, calm, warm in ways Tae didn’t know he needed until it was there.

Tae didn’t look up. “What do you want?” His tone was sharp, defensive. That was how he always covered himself. Push before you could be pushed. Hurt before someone could hurt you.

But Jimin didn’t flinch. He never did. Instead, he walked closer and sat beside him, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. Tae could smell the faint scent of soap on his skin, clean and comforting, like Jimin carried a piece of peace wherever he went.

“I don’t want anything,” Jimin said simply, his lips curving into that soft smile that always seemed to cut through Tae’s walls. “You looked… lost. So I came.”

Tae let out a bitter laugh. “I’m always lost. You should be used to it.”

Jimin shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t get used to seeing you like this.”

Something in his voice made Tae’s chest tighten. Jimin wasn’t pitying him. It wasn’t sympathy. It was something stronger, something that felt terrifying—like Jimin saw him, the real him, under the scars and the cruelty and the layers of ice he had built to survive.

And the scariest part? Jimin didn’t run away.

Tae finally glanced at him, and for a moment, it was too much. The way Jimin’s eyes held him, steady and unwavering, like he could carry all of Tae’s pain without breaking. It was both comforting and suffocating.

“You shouldn’t care about me this much,” Tae muttered, almost whispering. “I’ll ruin you.”

But Jimin only leaned back, resting his arms behind him casually, as if they weren’t sitting in the middle of all the shadows Tae dragged everywhere. “Maybe I don’t mind being ruined,” he said softly, but there was something in his tone—something dangerous, something that didn’t match the warm boyish smile.

It was moments like this that reminded Tae: Jimin wasn’t as simple as he looked. There was an edge under the softness, a sharpness hidden beneath the light. He could be kind, yes, but he was no stranger to darkness either.

That made him even harder to push away.

Tae swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to tell Jimin to leave, to stop making him feel things he had buried so deep. But instead, all he could whisper was, “Stay.”

Jimin’s smile widened, and he nodded without hesitation. “Always.”

And for the first time that night, Tae didn’t feel completely alone.

The shadows in the room didn’t vanish, but they softened—just a little. And maybe, just maybe, Jimin was the only light strong enough to remind him that even in darkness, there could still be warmth.

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