chapter two

Chapter Two – Kiss of the Haunted

(~900 words)

The courthouse lights hummed faintly above Ji-an’s desk. Rows of case files towered around him, paper fortresses that smelled of ink, dust, and human ruin. Numbers lined the margins in his neat handwriting, every stroke controlled, every note precise.

He should have gone home hours ago, but perfection didn’t allow for sleep. Not when every mistake could cost a life.

Ji-an adjusted his glasses, leaning closer to the stack of documents. He’d always been this way—obsessed with details. It was the only way to survive in a system where merit meant less than connections. He had both brains and results, yet promotions slid past him like water. Everyone knew why.

Because I said no.

The memory of that smirk—oily, arrogant—burned at the back of his mind. Chief Prosecutor Kang. Head of the department, admired in public, rotten in private. A man who believed his power gave him the right to claim anything, anyone.

The door creaked open.

Ji-an froze.

“Still working?” Kang’s voice curled into the room like smoke. The older man strolled inside, the sound of polished shoes echoing against the marble floor. His tie was loose, jacket discarded, but the predatory gleam in his eyes was sharper than any courtroom speech.

“I have deadlines,” Ji-an answered, forcing his tone flat. Respectful. Careful.

Kang’s smile widened. “You always do. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

The footsteps grew louder until Kang loomed beside him. Ji-an tried to focus on the documents in front of him, but the man’s shadow spilled across the desk like a stain.

“You know,” Kang murmured, leaning down so close Ji-an could smell the faint trace of whiskey, “a man with your record should already be leading a team. You’re brilliant, Ji-an. Smarter than most of the fools in this building.”

Ji-an said nothing.

“And yet,” Kang continued softly, “no promotion. Strange, isn’t it?”

A chill slid down Ji-an’s spine. He gripped his pen tighter. Don’t answer. Don’t react.

Kang’s hand moved suddenly, slamming against the wall beside Ji-an’s head. The files trembled from the impact. Ji-an stiffened, trapped between the wall and that suffocating presence.

“You think you can keep rejecting me without consequence?” Kang’s voice sharpened, venom beneath the silk. “One word from me and you’ll never work again. Not here. Not anywhere in this city.”

Ji-an swallowed, jaw tight. His heart raced, but his eyes remained steady. “I came here to work. That’s all.”

Kang’s gaze darkened. “You’re wasted on paperwork.” His other hand reached down, tugging at the belt of his trousers. The sound of the buckle snapping open cracked through the silence like a gunshot.

Ji-an’s breath hitched. Every muscle screamed to shove the man away, to scream, but reason clawed at him. If I fight him, he’ll destroy me. If I yield… I’ll destroy myself.

He pressed back against the wall, fists trembling at his sides. “Don’t.” The word came out low, raw, but firm.

Kang smirked, delighted by resistance. “That’s what I like. Fire.”

The world narrowed to the space between them—Ji-an’s pounding heartbeat, Kang’s breath hot against his cheek, the cold wall biting into his spine.

And then—

A knock.

Both men froze.

“Chief Kang?” A secretary’s voice filtered through the door. “The District Director is asking for you.”

Kang’s eyes burned into Ji-an’s, a predator robbed of its meal. Slowly, with deliberate irritation, he straightened and refastened his belt. His lips curved into a smile that promised future cruelty.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered. “You can’t hide forever. Not from me. Not from anyone in this city.”

The door opened a crack, and Kang’s mask slipped back into place—charming, authoritative. “Coming,” he called out smoothly, before throwing Ji-an one last glance. A warning. A promise.

The door shut behind him, and silence crashed over the office.

Ji-an’s knees trembled, but he forced himself upright, chin high. He wouldn’t give Kang the satisfaction of breaking, even alone.

His reflection glared back at him from the dark window: pale, strained, furious.

I won’t bend. No matter what it costs.

Yet as he gathered the scattered files, his hands shook, and in the corner of his vision—just for a heartbeat—he saw it.

A pale figure, watching.

A woman’s face pressed against the glass of the window, lips moving soundlessly, eyes black and hollow.

Ji-an spun around, but the window was empty.

The whisper followed him anyway. Don’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone.

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End Chapter Two (~905 )

hope y'all liked it and could comment to advise even troll cause that's my best kind of way to improve but just kidding sweet nothings are more thrilling 😉🥰

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