Marked by Blood

The cold night air hit Yeijin like a slap as they stepped out of the ruined building. Her breath came in short, shaky bursts, her wrists still aching from the steel cuffs biting into her skin.

But the moment she saw them, her stomach twisted into knots.

A line of men—Kang's men—stood waiting, dressed in black, their expressions impassive. They weren't just soldiers. They were killers.

This wasn't some back-alley gang. This was a machine, well-oiled and disciplined.

And she was about to be swallowed whole by it.

Mr.Kang barely slowed his pace. With a single, effortless shove, he threw her forward.

Yeijin stumbled, gasping as she collided against one of the men's chests. He barely reacted, grabbing her by the arm to steady her. His grip was firm, impersonal.

"She's yours." Kang said, his voice calm, almost disinterested. "Take her."

The man gave a slight nod, already moving to haul her away.

Yeijin twisted in his grip, panic rising. 

"N-no! Let me go—"

No one reacted.

Because no one disobeyed Kang Minjae.

She turned back to him, her vision blurring with fear. "P-please" she whispered. "Where are you taking me?"

Kang didn't answer.

Because it didn't matter.

She wasn't a person to him. She was his. And when a man like Kang decided something belonged to him, there was no pleading. No mercy.

But then—

The moment the man gripping her wrist shifted, just slightly, Kang moved.

It was so fast Yeijin almost didn't process it.

A sharp, metallic click.

A gun.

And then—

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

Yeijin screamed as something wet splattered against her skin.

The man who had been standing to her right crumpled instantly, a bullet hole clean through his head.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The others stood completely still, waiting.

Yeijin gasped, her chest rising and falling too fast, her body trembling violently. The corpse hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

The stench of blood was thick.

She turned, wide-eyed, barely able to comprehend what had just happened.

Kang exhaled, lowering his gun, flicking the safety back on with a casual, almost bored motion.

"Now" he said, voice dangerously even. "Let's make something very clear."

He lifted the gun again, pointing it directly at the rest of his men.

"You touch her—" He jerked his chin towards the body, still warm on the pavement. "—that's what happens to you."

The weight of his words settled over them like a death sentence.

No one spoke.

No one breathed.

Yeijin's knees felt weak.

The man had done nothing. He had barely moved.

And Kang Minjae had shot him like he was nothing.

A sick realization sank in.

This wasn't about punishment.

This was about ownership.

Kang had marked her—not with bruises, not with a chain, but with the death of a man who had barely even glanced at her.

Not because he cared about her.

But because she was his to command, his to control, his to do with as he pleased.

Not theirs.

Only his.

Kang tilted his head, watching her reaction, as if waiting for the fear to fully settle in.

Yeijin wanted to scream. To run. To wake up from this nightmare.

But it was real.

And him?

Kang was smiling.

"Take her" he repeated, voice smooth. "You know where."

This time, when the men grabbed her, they were careful. Not out of kindness.

Out of fear.

And as they dragged her into the waiting car, her pulse racing, her hands still bound—

She finally understood.

She wasn't walking into a trap.

She was the trap.

And Mr. Kang had just closed the door.

༺♰༻

The phone buzzed in Kang's pocket as he stepped over the last of the bodies. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as the scent of gunpowder and blood still clung to the air around him.

A mess.

But a necessary one.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone, glancing at the caller ID.

Joon.

His most trusted man.

Kang answered on the second ring, pressing the phone to his ear as he moved toward the sleek black car waiting for him. "Talk."

Joon's voice was steady, efficient. "We've arrived."

Kang hummed, opening the car door but not stepping inside yet. "And?"

A pause. Then—

"She's out."

Kang stilled.

Not struggling. Not crying.

Out.

Joon, ever the professional, continued before Kang could speak. "She lost consciousness about ten minutes before we arrived. Probably from exhaustion, maybe stress." A beat. "She's breathing fine. No fever, no signs of injury. Just… gone."

Kang tilted his head slightly, fingers tightening around the phone.

Stress.

His gaze flickered toward the bloodstained

pavement at his feet.

Yeah. He supposed it was a lot for someone like her.

Joon cleared his throat. "We placed her in the room you assigned. She didn't wake when we moved her."

Kang leaned against the side of the car, the faint glow of neon lights reflecting off his polished shoes. He wasn't sure why that detail irritated him.

"Good" he said finally. "Leave her there."

"She's still cuffed."

"I know."

Joon hesitated. Kang heard it, that brief, rare pause—one Joon almost never allowed himself.

"…You want us to take them off?"

Kang's jaw ticked.

He considered it for all of three seconds.

No.

Not yet.

"She stays like that." he decided, his voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. "Until I get there."

Joon didn't question him. He never did.

"Understood."

Kang Minjae exhaled slowly, tilting his head back. The sky above was an inky black, the city stretching out in all directions—chaotic, merciless. His world.

She wasn't built for it.

She was made of silk and softness, of whispered words and gentle hands.

He was made of fire and ruin.

And yet, here she was. His.

How amusing. 

Kang clicked his tongue, pushing himself off the car. "I'm finishing up here. I'll be there in thirty."

"Yes, Boss."

The line clicked off.

Kang slipped the phone back into his pocket, smoothing a hand over the fabric of his suit. He should've gotten into the car by now. Should've left without another thought.

But for some fucking reason, his mind lingered.

On her.

On the way her blue eyes had shined with unshed tears, on the way she had flinched under his touch but still looked at him like he was something beyond comprehension.

On the way she had whispered, terrified and trembling—

'I belong to him now.'

A small, satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

She had said it.

She had accepted it.

Even if it wasn't real yet.

It would be.

Kang stepped into the car, shutting the door behind him.

Thirty minutes.

Then he'd see for himself.

And the game continues.