The Beginning of a Game

When Minjae stepped into his office that morning, shrugging off his coat, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled,it had been already a long morning.

Meetings. Deals. Handling men who didn't know how to follow orders. By the time he returned, it was nearly lunch, and all he wanted was a moment of fucking silence.

But no.

The moment he stepped inside, Joon was already there, arms crossed, looking half-amused, half-annoyed. Minjae raised a brow, loosening his tie.

"What?"

Joon scoffed, shaking his head. "Your little pet demanded to see you." Minjae stilled for a second. Then, slowly, smirked.

"Demanded?" "Yeah. Said she wouldn't eat unless you talk to her." Minjae huffed out a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

Fucking hell.

"Alright, then." he muttered, cracking his neck. "Why not?"

A little fun before handling business never hurt anyone.

When the little Han was finally out, Minjae exhaled letting the smoke curl between his fingers, his cigar resting lazily between his lips as he leaned back into the leather of his chair.

The room was quiet now.

The scent of burnt tobacco mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne, the air still lingering with the weight of his last conversation. She was back in that room. Locked away. Silent. Just where she belonged.

And yet—

He found himself still thinking about her.

Pathetic.

Minjae clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly. How much longer was he going to play with her? She was fragile. Too fragile. He never had much interest in breakable things.

And yet—Yet, she had managed to make him pause. She had stood in front of him, shaking, trembling, but still trying to negotiate. Still trying to offer him her little inheritance, her trust fund, her stupid, meaningless savings. She had no idea how this world worked.

And that was the problem.

Minjae laughed to himself, the sound dry, low, mocking.

How cute.

She really thought he would be interested in her little piggy bank money. Her father had left her a toy chest of cash and she thought that made her powerful?

Ha. Ha. Ha.

The amusement curled in his chest, sharp and dark, as he flicked the ash off the end of his cigar. Fucking adorable. At least women like Taeri knew how to play the game.

Yes, they were opportunists. Yes, they bled men dry, traded bodies for power, used affection as currency. But at least they weren't naive. At least they understood the exchange. At least they weren't so disgustingly innocent that they thought the world played fair.

He exhaled, shaking his head again. Maybe that's why Yeijin pissed him off so much. Because she still believed in things like fairness. Because even now—even after everything—she was still clinging to the idea that there was someone out there who gave a fuck about her.

Like her little boyfriend.

Minjae paused.

Ah.

The boyfriend.

His fingers tapped against the desk as he thought about it. Now that he really considered it.. He had never actually dug too deep into her background.

He knew the basics.

Daughter of Minister Han.

Twenty-two years old.

University student.

No criminal record.

A boyfriend from a decent family.

But that was surface-level shit.

And Minjae ?Minjae never settled for surface-level. His boredom faded slightly, his interest flickering back into place. If she was so desperate to protect this man, to keep him in the dark, to let him think she was okay—Then maybe he should find out exactly who the fuck he was. Maybe he should see what made him so fucking special. He smirked.

Maybe it was time to start playing with something other than her.

FIVE YEARS AGO

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of amber light casting long shadows against the polished mahogany of the table. The scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey hung heavy in the air, a quiet luxury that disguised the true weight of the conversation about to unfold.

Kang Minjae sat at the head of the table.

He was younger then—twenty-seven, still freshly seated as the official heir to the Kang empire, yet he already wore power like second skin. His tailored suit sat perfectly on his frame, broad shoulders draped in wealth and ruthlessness, every inch of him exuding the controlled precision of a man who had been raised for this. His fingers curled around the rim of his glass, swirling the dark liquid inside as he leaned back, his sharp eyes unreadable, calculating.

Across from him sat a man desperate to prove his worth.

Han Tae-Won.

Not yet the Minister Han, but already drowning in ambition.

He was older—forty-five, maybe closer to fifty, dressed in a suit that was expensive but not expensive enough, sitting with a posture that tried too hard to be confident. Minjae had seen his type before. Men who wanted power but had no real means of obtaining it. Men who had just enough intelligence to be dangerous, but not enough to know when to stop.

Men who eventually got themselves killed.

Tae-Won smiled—too wide, too rehearsed.

Minjae didn't smile back.

Instead, he let the silence stretch, let the weight of his presence fill the space between them. He had learned young—silence was a weapon sharper than any knife. And right now, he wanted Tae-Won to sweat. Because Minjae wasn't here for pleasantries. He was here because this man wanted something from him. And that made him weak.

Tae-Won exhaled, finally breaking the silence.

"I've heard a lot about you, Kang Minjae-ssi."

Minjae raised a brow, lazily bringing his glass to his lips. "Have you now?" The older man chuckled, but it sounded nervous. "You're quite the enigma.." Tae-Won continued. "A man running a multi-billion won banking empire by day, yet moving in shadows by night. It's… impressive." Minjae exhaled through his nose. He hated men who talked in circles. "Say what you want to say, Han." he said smoothly, voice calm but laced with authority.

Tae-Won hesitated.

Then, finally—he leaned in.

"I want to be Minister."he said.

Minjae didn't react.

Didn't blink.

Didn't even look surprised.

Instead, he set his glass down with a soft clink and tilted his head.

"And?"

Tae-Won exhaled, shifting slightly.

"And I think we can help each other."

Minjae's lips twitched. He didn't respond. Tae-Won took it as a sign to continue. "You and I both know that politics isn't about morals" he murmured, voice dropping slightly. "It's about leverage. Influence. The right people in the right places." Minjae hummed. "Go on."

Tae-Won's fingers tapped against the table. "If I become Minister, you gain a man on the inside" he explained. "Someone who can ensure your transactions, your operations—everything remains… undisturbed." Minjae exhaled, tapping his fingers idly against the wood. "And in return?" Tae-Won smiled.

"You fund me. Back me. Help me rise to power. And when I do, I make sure the Kang name stays untouchable."

Minjae laughed.

Soft, sharp, mocking.

Tae-Won stiffened.

Minjae leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his dark gaze locking onto the older man's. "And why the fuck would I do that?" Tae-Won blinked. Minjae smirked. "You came here to ask for my help" he murmured. "You think I need yours?"

Tae-Won swallowed, his jaw tightening. Minjae chuckled, swirling his drink again. "I already own half this city," he continued. "The police. The courts. The financial sector. What do I need a Minister for?" Tae-Won gritted his teeth. "I can give you more!" he pressed. "More power. More control. More—"

"I already have power."

Minjae's voice was sharp. Final.

Tae-Won stopped.

Minjae exhaled, tilting his head.

"You're a desperate man, Han Tae-Won" he murmured. "And I don't make deals with desperate men." Tae-Won's expression tightened.

And then— "You may own half the city now" he said, voice measured, "but you don't own the government."

Minjae's smirk stilled.

Tae-Won leaned in. "If you want to secure your future, if you want to ensure that your empire doesn't fall under the weight of new laws, new restrictions, new hands reaching for your wealth—you need someone inside."

Silence.

Minjae didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Tae-Won pressed on. "With me in power, you control not just the streets, not just the banks—but the entire fucking country." Minjae's fingers stilled.

Ah.

So he wasn't completely stupid. He saw the game for what it was. He understood that the real war wasn't in the streets. It was in policy.

It was in laws, in negotiations, in the men who signed the papers that dictated who thrived and who fell. And for the first time Minjae considered it.

Tae-Won smiled, sensing the shift. "So?" he murmured. "Do we have a deal?" Minjae inhaled slowly, letting the tension stretch, savoring the way the older man was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Then— He smirked. He reached for his glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down again, and finally—

He extended his hand. Tae-Won exhaled, gripping it immediately.

The deal was sealed.

And just like that—

The future Minister Han became his pawn.

A desperate man who owed him everything.

The grip of the handshake lingered for just a second too long.

A moment of agreement.

Of complicity.

Of a deal that could not be undone. Minjae let his fingers loosen first, letting Tae-Won retract his own hand, watching with quiet amusement as the man exhaled, as if the hardest part had just been done.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Minjae leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, his movements slow, deliberate. His sharp gaze did not leave Han's face.

"So" he murmured, tapping a single finger against the glass in front of him, "tell me, Han Tae-Won…"

He tilted his head slightly, voice light, almost casual—but not really.

"Why?"

Han's brows furrowed slightly. "Why?" "Yes." Minjae smiled, but it was sharp, mocking. "Why do you want to be Minister?" Tae-Won blinked, then let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Power, of course. Influence. The same reasons all men want it." Minjae sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. Then he set it down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the table, his dark eyes suddenly more intent.

"That's the answer you give other men" he said smoothly. "Not me." Tae-Won's jaw tightened. Minjae smirked. "I can smell desperation, Han" he continued, voice dropping slightly. "And I can tell when a man is lying to me. You don't just want power. You don't just want money." He leaned in further, his voice lowering into something far too soft, far too dangerous.

"You want revenge."

Silence.

For a second, nothing moved.

Tae-Won's breath hitched—barely, but Minjae caught it.

Then—finally—he sighed, rubbing his temple, his mask slipping just enough for Minjae to see the truth underneath. "You're right" Han admitted, voice quieter now. "It's not just about power."

Minjae didn't respond. He just watched. Waited. And Tae-Won continued.

"I want him gone" he muttered. "The current Minister. I want him out of the picture. Permanently." Minjae hummed, intrigued now. "And why is that?" Tae-Won's expression hardened. "He's a disease to this country."he muttered. "A corrupt, incompetent bastard playing puppet to international interests. Korea is—"

He stopped himself.

Then exhaled.

"Korea is crumbling" he continued, voice lower now, sharper. "We've been nothing more than a pawn for decades, torn between superpowers, dependent on others for our economy, our defense, our identity." His fingers tapped against the table, his eyes dark, serious. "I want to change that." he said simply.

Minjae laughed. Sharp, cruel, mocking. Tae-Won's expression didn't shift. Minjae shook his head, smirking. "Do you actually believe that shit?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement. Tae-Won tilted his head.

"Do you really think" Minjae continued, eyes glinting, "that you—you, HanTae-Won—are going to be the great savior of Korea?"

Silence.

Minjae laughed again.

It was so fucking ridiculous.

But Tae-Won didn't flinch.

Didn't laugh.

Didn't even blink.

Instead—he leaned in.

"Yes."

Minjae stilled. Just for a second. And then— He grinned. Because this was it. The exact moment. The precise second when men like Tae-Won sold their souls without even realizing it. And Minjae? He loved it.

He loved watching the way they thought they were still in control, the way they believed they were making their own decisions, the way they told themselves they were the ones pulling the strings— When in reality they were already wrapped around his fingers.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

"Alright" he murmured, smirking. "Say you do become Minister. Say you get your dream of a better, independent Korea." His voice dipped lower."What do you need me for?" Tae-Won met his gaze, eyes unwavering. "I need you" he said "because I need him gone."

Minjae smirked.

"Ah."

He tilted his head slightly, mock thoughtful. "You want me to kill him?" Tae-Won inhaled. "Yes."

Minjae chuckled. Low, dark, satisfied. "Ah" he sighed, shaking his head with amusement. "And just like that, you sold yourself to me."

Tae-Won didn't respond.

Didn't even argue.

Because he knew it was true.

And Minjae?

Minjae loved nothing more than a man who didn't even realize he had already lost.