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One of the henchmen drags him into the unlit room with only one window in the back. Jongdae's knees hit the ground, the gravel digging into them and making him wince in pain. He looks up, pressing his lips into a thin line. He's done for good this time. His hands are tied, all his weapons probably confiscated. He's promptly ungagged and left alone to stare at his greatest enemy to date. Kim Minseok, also known as Xiumin to the public, the biggest current threat to Seoul's residents.
"Look who we've got here? Defeat looks beautiful on you," Minseok says with a wide smile that makes his eyes almost glow in the dark. He reaches out his gloved hand, the leather touching Jongdae's chin seconds later. "What do you plan on doing now?"
"I think you stole my line," Jongdae says, deciding that if he dies tonight, it's gonna be with a joke leaving his lips.
"Me?" Minseok raises his eyebrows, the black piercing glinting. "Oh, honey, I know exactly what I'm gonna do. You might think I'm a klutz, but that's about as far from the truth as it gets."
"You're gonna kill me?" he asks, the anxiety making his voice shake. He doesn't want to die, not yet. No, no, he made a single mistake and that's what's going to get him killed? That's so unfair. He's spent his whole youth chasing criminals, bringing karma onto them. He's Jongdae—the voice of the silenced, the hand of justice, the revenge of the broken.
"Why would I?" He cocks his head.
"Because you captured me, duh."
"I can untie you." He shrugs and snaps his fingers. The two henchmen listening to the conversation immediately walk up to Jongdae and free his hand. "Why do you still think I am the bad guy, Jongdae?"
"You have henchmen ."
"Oh, them? They are legally employed here. They even get 24 vacation days," Minseok says. "Look, I may be the bad guy, whatever that means," he says, rolling his eyes, "but I pay taxes! Unlike some of the people you work for."
"What are you getting at?" Jongdae asks, massaging his wrists. Even he doesn't get this many vacation days, hell, last year he had to work during the winter holidays.
"I don't think you're entirely in the right here, that's all." Minseok uncrosses his legs and stands up from his chair. He's wearing a black body suit that accentuates his physique, black leather gloves and heavy boots. If he weren't literally the enemy of the state, Jongdae would've said he looked handsome.
"The feeling's mutual then."
"I suppose… but what differentiates us is that you're wrong. Full stop. Basta." He once again reaches with his gloved hand and raises Jongdae's chin with the lightest touch.
Stepping away, Jongdae scoffs. "How can you say that?"
"My dear, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out by now. Especially after they left you to… well, die. Because let's be honest, that's what your team thought would happen to you if they let me capture you."
"They—they didn't have time to come back for me yet, that's all. They'll be here any minute."
"The cops? Oh, please, they're not coming for you. They've been using you to do the dirty work. And now you are the dirty work." Minseok spins in his place, a smile appearing on his face. "Wanna bet on it?"
"No funny tricks?"
Minseok huffs, "Who do you think I am? One of yours?"
It's obvious that Jongdae shouldn't trust him—this man is wanted by at least several international organizations. And yet, he's close to being right. No one will come for Jongdae, he's aware of this, but he clings to the hope, bites into it like a desperate animal being given its first meal in days. The police are just using him; it's the uncomfortable truth he's refused to swallow for years.
He's been injured countless times and then called in days later, his wounds still bleeding under his suit. They've shown disregard for his well-being, his health both physical and mental. It was his normalcy—being treated like trash. Even Minseok is a better… boss.
Something in Jongdae breaks. His knees buckle under his weight and hit the floor again. He looks up at Minseok—the person he was trained to see as the enemy. Minseok's white hair is illuminated from the back by the rays of the setting sun. He smiles and reaches out his hand. Jongdae stares at it, unable to comprehend his own feelings.
"Do you still think they are coming for you?"
"I never really did."
Minseok smiles and pats Jongdae's cheek with his hand. "You're a smart guy after all."
"I don't know what to do now," Jongdae says, he sounds broken and his voice shakes.
"Join me. I'll never do you wrong."
Declining is an option, Jongdae's aware of that, but it doesn't even cross his mind at first. "You promise?"
"I'll do whatever I can in my power to protect you, my dear."
Jongdae takes his hand, his grip strong as if he were really holding onto a lifeline. Minseok kneels next to him, still not letting go of Jongdae's hand, and looks deep into his eyes. "You're safe with me. We'll make something mesmerizing and powerful out of you. The whole world will regret the way they treated you. You deserve nothing less than worship."
Just a few hours ago Jongdae wouldn't believe him, he'd scream and disagree, but now he can't stop himself from agreeing with Minseok. He melts into his embrace, putting his forehead on his shoulder. It's pure defeat.
"Your new life has just begun, Jongdae," Minseok says, cupping his jaw. Jongdae stares at his pierced lips in awe.