The Invisible Chains

FOUR YEARS AGO

The office smelled of expensive cologne, aged whiskey, and sin.

Thick curtains kept the world outside, dimming the light to a golden haze, casting shadows over the plush leather furniture and dark mahogany desk littered with discarded cigar ash. The scent of cheap perfume and sweat still lingered in the air, mixing with the sickly sweetness of half-eaten strawberries and spilled champagne.

Han Tae-Won was half-dressed, his silk robe barely covering his stomach, his shirt completely open as two women draped themselves over him like expensive jewelry. One traced a delicate finger over his chest, giggling as she lifted a strawberry to his lips, while the other whispered something in his ear, her nails scraping lightly against his throat.

The perfect image of corruption.

Then— A voice crackled over the intercom.

"Minister Han—Mr. Kang is here to see you."

The women barely had time to react before the doors swung open.

Kang Minjae stepped inside with the kind of presence that didn't need an announcement—it simply demanded attention.

Dressed in his signature black suit, perfectly tailored to his broad frame, he walked in like he owned the place—and in a way, he did.

Beside him, Joon followed in measured silence, towering over the room like a shadow, his sunglasses still on despite the dim lighting. The third man—a quiet, nondescript figure, a Kang enforcer—closed the door behind them, locking the world out.

And just like that—

The mood shifted.

Han froze for just a second.

Then, scrambling, he pushed the women off him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he straightened his robe.

"Ladies, out." he barked, his voice half-command, half-panic.

The women giggled, unfazed by the sudden change, too used to powerful men scrambling to save face.

One of them winked at Joon on the way out.

He didn't react.

They left, whispering, laughing—the sound fading down the hall until silence stretched once more.

Han cleared his throat.

Then, with forced composure, he smiled.

"Minjae-ssi!" he greeted, arms spreading wide as if he wasn't just caught being hand-fed fruit like some degenerate emperor. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Minjae said nothing.

His eyes swept over the room—the gold-trimmed decor, the obscene display of wealth, the tainted luxury dripping from every inch of the space.

Then, finally, his gaze returned to Han.

Cold. Unreadable.

"Sit!" Han gestured toward the sofa, the one covered in god-knows-what.

Joon gave it one glance before remaining where he stood, hands clasped behind his back.

Minjae, however, sat.

Not because he respected the invitation—but because he wanted Han to know that he wasn't above getting his hands dirty in his filth.

Han swallowed, taking a seat across from him, adjusting his robe again as he tried to regain control of the room.

Joon remained standing—silent. Watching. A presence that was impossible to ignore.

Minjae leaned back, crossing one ankle over the other, entirely unbothered.

"You have something for me?" he asked, voice smooth, slow.

Straight to the point.

Han forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Always so business-minded, Kang Minjae. No pleasantries?"

Minjae smiled, but it was sharp, empty.

Han swallowed.

"Of course" he muttered, reaching for a file on the table. He slid it toward Minjae, tapping it twice with his fingers before leaning back. "Latest updates. A few interesting movements in the Assembly."

Minjae took the file, flipping through it with lazy precision.

Numbers. Names. Deals.

Movements of politicians who thought they were safe. Offshore accounts disguised as government funding. Legislation being pushed by puppets who didn't even realize whose strings they were dancing on.

All things that would benefit Kang Minjae.

"Interesting." Minjae murmured, flipping another page.

Han's jaw tightened.

"Of course" he said smoothly, "I'm keeping everything in check. Your accounts remain untouched. Any bills that would interfere with Kang Banking's operations have been delayed or dissolved."

Minjae hummed, unimpressed.

"You're doing your job, then?"

Han smiled tightly. "Naturally."

Minjae turned another page.

Han's fingers tapped against the armrest. Because beneath the performance of compliance, beneath the fake smiles and carefully chosen words— Han Tae-Won was already plotting.

He had been for months.

The moment he became Minister, the moment he realized just how much power he could have—he had started to think about it.

How to free himself.

How to cut the leash.

Because Kang Minjae had given him this power.

And that meant Kang Minjae could take it away.

Han gritted his teeth, keeping his expression neutral.

Not yet.

Not now.

Minjae closed the file with a soft thump.

Han exhaled "So" he said, trying to shift the conversation, "how's business on your end?"

Minjae smirked.

Han was so fucking predictable.

"Business is thriving" he said simply. "Expansion is in progress. New contracts are being drawn."

Han nodded, pretending to be interested.

"Good, good. And… our previous arrangement?"

Minjae exhaled, amused.

"You mean the money?"

Han forced a laugh.

Minjae leaned forward slightly, his smirk fading just a little.

Han stilled.

"You haven't forgotten who put you in that seat, have you?" Minjae murmured.

Han's fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. "Of course not" he said smoothly. "I would never."

Minjae's eyes darkened.

"Good."

Because there was nothing Han Tae-Won feared more than losing everything he had climbed for.

And Kang Minjae? Kang Minjae was the only man who could rip it all away.

The Minister forced another chuckle, standing. "Well, I'm sure you're busy, Minjae-ssi. I appreciate you stopping by."

Minjae didn't move. Didn't even blink. He just tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. Then, finally, he stood. Han exhaled quietly. Minjae's smirk returned as he brushed past him.

"Oh" he murmured, pausing at the door, his voice light, teasing—deadly. Han turned. "Yes?"

Minjae glanced at the half-empty champagne flute on the table.

"Next time" he said, "wipe your fucking mouth before inviting me in."

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving behind only the scent of cigars, control, and the weight of a debt Han Tae-Won would never be able to repay.

༺♰༻

The ride back to Kang Headquarters was silent. Joon sat beside him in the back of the sleek black sedan, arms crossed, posture relaxed—but Minjae knew better. Joon was thinking. Calculating.

So was he.

The meeting had gone as expected. Han Tae-Won was still a dog on a leash. But that didn't mean he wasn't trying to chew through it. Minjae had seen it in his eyes—the flicker of greed, the subtle defiance. Han thought he had power now.

That was his first mistake.

Minjae exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the leather seat as he drummed his fingers against his knee.

"You saw it too" Joon finally spoke, his voice low, casual. Minjae smirked slightly. "Saw what?"

Joon huffed, reaching for a cigarette.

"He's thinking about it."

"Thinking about what?"

Joon gave him a flat look. "Cutting the leash."

Minjae chuckled.

Of course, he was.

That was the nature of men like Han Tae-Won. Give them power, and they start to believe it's theirs. Let them taste control, and they start to think they own it.

"He's not stupid." Joon continued, flicking his lighter. "He knows he's in debt to you."

"That's the point." Minjae murmured.

Joon exhaled smoke, watching him. "You gonna tighten the chain?"

Minjae smirked.

"Tighten?" He tapped his fingers against his thigh. "No."

Joon arched a brow.

"I'm going to make sure he's wrapped in so many chains, he won't even realize he's bound until it's too late."

Han Tae-Won thought he was playing a game. But the game was never his to play.

Minjae had started setting the pieces years ago.

Step one had been money.

Han's rise to power had been funded by Kang Banking.

The bribes to key officials, the under-the-table transactions, the off-shore accounts hidden under Kang-owned shell companies—all of it had been orchestrated, approved, and supplied by Minjae.

Han owed him everything.

But Minjae never asked for repayment.

Because asking meant acknowledging the debt.

And Han wasn't supposed to feel indebted.

He was supposed to feel entitled.

Entitled to the money.

Entitled to the power.

Entitled to his position.

Minjae had given him just enough rope to believe he climbed on his own. So when Han eventually started scheming, when he started looking for ways to cut ties— Minjae would remind him that there was no way out. Not without falling.

Step two was dependency.

The laws Han passed? They benefited Kang Banking. The economic policies? Crafted by Minjae's team, signed under Han's name.

Every financial decision Han made was shaped, influenced, or directly controlled by Minjae's people.

If Han suddenly tried to remove Kang Banking from the equation?

The economy would collapse.

Public trust would plummet.

Han's administration would be buried under scandal.

Because Kang Banking wasn't just a bank.

It was the backbone of Korea's financial system.

And Han had unknowingly woven it into every aspect of his own power.

Step three?

Leverage.

Minjae didn't just control Han's career.

He controlled his secrets.

The affairs. The embezzlement. The hidden bank accounts. The connections to criminal organizations.

All of it documented. Categorized. Organized.

Waiting.

Minjae never used threats.

Threats made men desperate. Unpredictable.

He preferred assurance.

"You don't have to worry about anything" he had told Han more than once, always with that smooth, practiced smile. "As long as we're on the same page."

And Han had nodded, smiled back, played along. But Minjae had seen the way his fingers twitched. The way he clenched his jaw when he thought no one was looking.

The frustration. The resentment.

Han wanted out.

He wouldn't get out.

And when he finally realized that?

When he finally understood that he wasn't a king—he was just another piece on Minjae's board?

That was when things would get interesting.

Joon took another slow drag from his cigarette, tapping the ash out the window.

"He's gonna snap."

Minjae smirked. "Of course, he will."

Joon gave him a look. "And you're just gonna let him?"

Minjae exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded.

"There's nothing more entertaining than watching a man build his own grave."

Joon huffed a quiet laugh. "You're a sadistic fuck, you know that?"

Minjae chuckled. "I do."

The car slowed, pulling into the underground parking of Kang Banking's headquarters.

Joon stretched, rolling his neck. "So what now?"

Minjae checked his watch.

"Now?" He smirked. "We let Han think he's still in control."

Joon scoffed, stepping out of the car as the doors unlocked. "And when he realizes he's not?"

Minjae's smirk widened slightly.

"Then, we put him down."

Because Kang Minjae didn't just own Han Tae-Won. He owned everything Han Tae-Won had ever touched.

And that?

That meant the Minister was already dead.

He just hadn't realized it yet.