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“What. Did. You. Do?!”
Hyunjin stood there with his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised expectantly. Felix half expected him to start tapping his foot impatiently, like an angry mother scolding her child.
Felix cringed at the question, ducking his head so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. He already regretted coming to work before it opened; no customers meant there was nothing to distract Hyunjin from interrogating him about the events of a few nights before.
“Nothing!” he protested feebly. “I just helped a guy out.”
“Helped a guy out?” Hyunjin echoed. “You got into a fight in the back alley, dragged a guy through here, jumped on your bike and took off! Then whoever you beat up came storming through the customers to chase after you!”
Guilt washed over him and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry the bar got involved. I was just trying to get him out of here.”
“Who is he?”
Felix hesitated. It was bad enough that Felix had made out with Chris; he definitely shouldn’t try to get more involved, and he definitely shouldn’t drag Hyunjin into it. “He’s no one! Just some mafia guy.”`
“Just some mafia guy?” Hyunjin repeated, sounding both exasperated and concerned. “Felix, the underground is buzzing about you. I don’t know who you saved—I didn’t see his face—but he wasn’t ‘just some guy.’”
It was an established fact that Hyunjin knew everyone, and always had an ear to the ground. A natural gossip, he managed to store away information from patrons and friends, and was highly regarded as one of the best information brokers in the Seoul underground. He was the one that suggested the fighting ring, District 9, to Felix, even if he didn’t like the idea of him getting hurt. Hyunjin made more money from dealing with information than he did with his bar, MIROH, but he always claimed the bar was where most of said information came from.
If Hyunjin said the underground was talking, then he meant it.
Hyunjin reached out to grasp him by the arm, his face full of worry. “Lix, Kim Seungmin asked me about you.”
He frowned at the unfamiliar name. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Kim Seungmin? Of Stray Kids? Bang Chan’s go-to information guy?”
Felix went still, goosebumps crawling over his skin. Everyone in Seoul had heard of Bang Chan and Stray Kids. Their power and influence extended all across South Korea; he had even heard whispers of them going global. Bang Chan, their leader, was a man shrouded in mystery. Enigmatic, dangerous, charming, wealthy; the police couldn’t catch him—not when he had them in his pocket.
What would Bang Chan and his group want with him? Was Chris an enemy of theirs? Did he inadvertently piss off the most powerful man in Korea?
“It was just some guy,” Felix repeated, trying to ignore the panic that was settling in his chest. “He said his name was Chris.”
Hyunjin went white. “Felix, that’s Bang Chan’s English name.”
Felix shook his head. “No way. He looked all nice and sheepish, not some mafia leader, and definitely not the leader of Stray Kids. Come on, Jinnie—be serious.”
“Did he speak English? Did he have an Australian accent? You of all people would recognise that.”
His breath caught. “I—yes, he did.”
There was no way. No way that Chris was Bang Chan, the most powerful man in Seoul, if not all of South Korea. Stray Kids were dangerous, they were mafia, they killed people, and he—he—
“Oh god, I kissed Bang Chan.”
“You what?!” Hyunjin shrieked, letting go of Felix to put his hands in his hair, looking seconds away from pulling it out. That would be a shame; he’d grown his dark hair out past shoulder length and it looked good.
Huh. Was Felix panicking? He was probably panicking.
Hyunjin took a deep breath and lowered his hands. “I’ve told Seungminnie that you’re a good person, that you’re a friend, but I don’t know if that means the Stray Kids will back off.”
“You call Bang Chan’s go-to information guy Seungminnie?”
Hyunjin blushed. “We…have a rapport.”
Despite the situation, Felix laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it these days? He wouldn’t be the puppy dog looking guy you’ve had sing here a few times, would it? The one whose tongue you’ve always got down—”
“Lix! This is serious!”
“Right—okay—sorry.”
“I have influence in the underground, but not a lot.” Hyunjin bit his lip. “If—if the Kids come for you, there’s not a lot I can do to protect you.”
Felix felt gratitude rush through him. Only a few months older than him, Hyunjin was his best friend, and had always looked out for him ever since he’d stumbled into MIROH years ago and asked for a job in his awkward, broken Korean. It meant a lot that Hyunjin was trying to use what limited influence he had to make sure Felix was okay.
He pulled Hyunjin in for a hug. “It’s okay, Hyunjinnie,” he murmured. “Thank you for looking after me.”
“Well, someone has to—the only person you worry about is Innie.”
Felix pulled back, gripping his friend urgently by the shoulders. “If—if something happens to me, please—Jeongin-ah—”
“I’ll look after him,” Hyunjin promised, reaching up to squeeze one of Felix’s hands reassuringly. “You know I will.”
He sighed in relief, thanking him and letting his hands and head drop. God this was too much; Felix just gave the guy a lift, for fuck’s sake. Just beat up some guys for him. Surely that didn’t mean mafia guys coming for him in the dead of night? Yeah, he may have called the Bang Chan untrustworthy, but they’d also made out, so that had to be a good thing, right? Hell, Chris had suggested wanting to do more than that, so surely that meant he had to like him enough to not want him dead.
You’ve caught my attention, Lee Felix, Chris’s voice echoed in his mind. I hope I’ve caught yours.
Felix really hoped being the centre of Bang Chan’s attention wasn’t a bad thing.
As if he could read his thoughts, Hyunjin spoke up. “Seungminnie says Chan is a good person, aside from the…you know.”
“The murder and other assorted crimes?”
“Yeah. That.”
He laughed, a sharp bitter sound. “Well at least he’s a murderer with morals.”
“Lix.” Hyunjin’s expression was pained. “It’ll be okay.”
He wasn’t sure if Hyunjin believed that any more than Felix did.
“This is what we’re gonna do,” Hyunjin said. “You’re gonna go home, spend time with Innie, and stay there. You’re not going to go District 9 and get the shit kicked out of you for money—”
“Hey,” he protested halfheartedly. He didn’t get beaten up that bad at the underground ring. He was undefeated, thank you very much.
“You’re not going to go there,” Hyunjin repeated, ignoring him entirely. “I’m going to contact Seungmin again and find out exactly what, if anything, Bang Chan wants with you, then I’ll call you with what I find because for fuck’s sake, you’re not leaving your house with Stray Kids interested in you.”
“Hyunjin, I need to work—”
“I will pay you personal leave, Felix, just go home. So far, I don’t think they know where you live; I managed to dodge Seungmin’s questions about that. That said, please keep an eye out for anyone tailing you on your way back to the house.”
“I—”
“Go home, Lee Yongbok.”
Oh, the Korean name. Now Felix really did feel like a scolded child.
A scolded child with the most dangerous man in South Korea interested in him, whose heart had been hammering since he realised who exactly he had rescued. Nerves churned in his stomach, making his palms sweat and his breath quicken.
Okay, maybe it was a good idea to just go home.
He gave Hyunjin one final hug and walked back out to his bike, eyes darting nervously around for any guys in suits that seemed like they were there to follow him. He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean no one was there. They were Stray Kids, for crying out loud; they had people inside the police force. For all he knew, they could be using the goddamn traffic cameras to trace him.
The thought made his skin crawl.
He put his helmet on, kicked his bike in gear, and took off towards home, making sure to take a long, winding route there.
Hopefully this would all blow over soon.
Chan stared across his desk at the man in front of him, his face an expressionless mask. He had learnt the hard way to never let anything show; to hide how he really felt or else it would be used against him. Moreover, it was always satisfying to keep his displeasure hidden until the optimal moment to let it show, so his enemies didn’t see how badly they’d fucked up until it was too late for them to weasel their way out of it.
Like now, for instance, and the stupid idiot who thought he could take some of the profit of their drug run. As if Chan didn’t know the man was stealing from him; as if he’d let him actually get away with it.
“Do-joon-ssi,” he said, interrupting a nervous, rambling excuse about being underpaid by clients. “Do you know what I hate most about this business?”
“N-no.” Do-joon swallowed anxiously. “What is it, Hyungnim?”
Chan finally let his anger show on his face. “I hate liars.”
He ignored Do-joon as he blabbered more desperately to prove his innocence and instead held a hand out to Minho, who had been standing quietly at his side since the moment Do-joon had been brought into his office. Without a word, Minho handed him a file.
“Save your breath.” He dropped the file on his desk. “We have all the information here that proves you’ve been stealing from us.”
“Please, Bang Chan-ssi, please, I just needed a little extra, that was all. I can pay it back—”
Chan grinned, savage and victorious. “Ah, thank you for admitting your guilt, Do-joon-ssi.”
Do-joon slammed his mouth shut.
“See, we didn’t have concrete proof, just an idea, but thank you for falling for my bluff.”
“No, wait, please—”
Chan continued, apathetic to Do-joon’s continued begging. “I value honesty and loyalty the most, Do-joon-ssi. If you had needed money and simply asked for it, I would have given it to you. But this? This proves you’re no longer trustworthy.”
“Please, I’m sorry—”
“There is no room for untrustworthiness in Stray Kids.”
“Hyungnim, please—”
“I am no longer your hyungnim,” Chan said coldly, leaning back in his chair to stare indifferently at the man before him. “And the only reason you are still breathing is because I don’t care to get your blood in my office’s carpet.”
“No, no, please!—”
He waved a hand at Minho. “Lee Know, take him away.”
Silently, Minho nodded and grabbed Do-joon by the arm, dragging him kicking and screaming out the door. Finally alone, Chan waited until Do-joon’s cries faded into the distance before letting the mask of Bang Chan drop completely. Gone was the emotionless, immovable mafia leader, and in his place was Chan, exhausted twenty-five year old.
He didn’t enjoy sentencing people to die, but examples had to be made. He couldn’t be seen taking pity on people who had crossed him; it would make other people believe they could get away with the same thing. No, Do-joon had to die—that was best. An example would be made and he wouldn’t have to worry if he could trust one of his men.
Trust meant everything in this game.
Chan had only got to where he was by making sure he only had the most reliable people by his side. When he had first started out, watching gangs rise and fall, no one expected him to get this far. Especially not Park Jin-young, who all but dared Chan to choose members to take with him before they were kicked out of the JYP family; cast aside for daring to suggest an alternative to what was arguably a plan that would get them all killed.
“Choose whoever you want, I have no need for young upstarts who think they know better than me. If you want to lead, Bang Chan, then lead.” Jin-young waved a hand dismissively at him. “I look forward to watching you fail. Perhaps then you will learn to respect your elders.”
Chan gritted his teeth, bowed low, and walked out. Outside of Jin-young’s office stood Jisung, Changbin, Minho, and Seungmin, as if they were waiting for him. He hadn’t even said a word, just looked at them, before Jisung broke out into a smile and slung an arm over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Hyung,” Jisung said, leading him off while the others fell into step behind them.
“I never liked Jin-young anyway,” Changbin agreed.
“Please at least wait to badmouth our ex-leader until we’re out of the compound,” Seungmin sighed, long-suffering.
“Eh.” Minho shrugged. “I think we could take whoever tries to give us a hard time.”
Chan smiled, utterly grateful for their support. “Thanks, guys. Let’s go start a gang.”
“Be gay, do crimes,” Minho deadpanned.
He laughed. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
It had taken them less than three years for them to crush JYP under their foot. In five, they stood as the most powerful mafia group in Korea. Some still called them upstarts, but their influence couldn’t be denied and any who tried to cross them were quickly shown why that was a bad idea.
Living up to their name, Chan took in anyone he thought had promise and could be trusted. Anyone who life had dealt a bad hand, the desperate ones with no one else to go, he took in, trained and gave them a chance. His people were loyal, they worked hard, and Chan was glad he had them behind him.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t tired.
With an empire as large as his, he barely had time to breathe, let alone rest. There was always something that required his attention. He delegated, of course, with Minho, Changbin, Jisung and Seungmin overseeing a lot of the general management of Stray Kids, but Chan preferred doing most of it himself. The group was his responsibility, and he had to live up to that.
That didn’t stop Minho from dragging him out of the office and demanding he sleep, or from Changbin and Jisung nagging at him to come to the music studio when they thought he needed a break from all the death and violence. Or from Seungmin just flouncing into his office to tease him, when he thought he needed a bit of reminding that he was human.
(“Knock knock, Hyung.”
Chan raised an eyebrow. “Who’s there?”
“Bang Chan.”
He sighed. “Bang Chan who?”
“Bang Chan is so old!”
“Yah, Kim Seungmin!”)
So when Seungmin walked in not long after Do-joon’s wails had faded into the distance, he was really expecting some crack about his age, not a report.
“What’s up, Seungmin-ah?”
Seungmin handed him a folder and sat down in the chair across from him. “His name is Lee Felix, Korean name: Lee Yongbok.”
His interest caught, he immediately opened the folder to find a picture of Felix staring back at him. He really was breathtaking; those freckles were gorgeous.
The photo was pinned to a report on all the information Seungmin had gathered, but Chan always liked to hear his personal take on it. “What did you find?”
“He was born on the 15th of September, 2000 in Sydney, Australia. He was orphaned at age ten and lost his whole family in a car accident; a drunk driver. The only reason he survived was because he was at a karate class at the time. He was sent here to live with his uncle, Yang Hae-bom, and his cousin, Yang Jeongin.”
Chan’s heart went out in sympathy for Felix. It must have been hard to lose his family and move overseas at such a young age.
“Is he close with his uncle and cousin?” he asked.
“By all accounts, he treats Jeongin like his little brother, and vice versa, but his relationship with his uncle is strained.”
“How so?”
“Yang Hae-bom is a chronic gambler and alcoholic.” There was a tone of disapproval in Seungmin’s voice. “Felix is the primary breadwinner for the family, and often his attempts at saving are spent by his uncle. Felix has worked numerous jobs since childhood to provide for them and is currently struggling to send Jeongin to university.”
“A dedicated brother.”
“And kind.” Seungmin’s eyes softened. “Hyunjinnie vouched for him. He asked—he asked us not to hurt him.”
Chan baulked at the idea of hurting Felix; that was the furthest thing on his mind. He was interested in his potential to be a Stray Kid—and perhaps, something more personal—but he wouldn’t hurt him. Not when Felix had saved him. Not when Chan wanted nothing more to get to know him better, and hold him close.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts. “He knows Hwang Hyunjin?”
Seungmin nodded. “They’re best friends and he works for him at MIROH. I’ve seen him there a few times. He’s a good worker; a hard worker. But there’s something else you should know.”
“What is it?”
“Felix routinely takes part in District 9, our underground fighting ring. His fighting name is the Luck Dragon.”
Chan raised his brows, impressed. Stray Kids ran District 9 and kept tabs on the regulars who fought there. He had heard of the Luck Dragon, who was currently undefeated. If his fighting in the ring was anything like how he’d fought when he’d saved Chan, it was little wonder no one had beat him yet.
“Good to know.” He nodded and closed the file, putting it back down on his desk. “And what’s your personal recommendation?”
Seungmin grinned. “I think you were right, Hyung. I think he’d make a good Stray Kid.”
Chan stood, filled with purpose, excitement thrumming in his veins. Gone was the exhaustion of earlier, replaced with enthusiasm at the thought of adding another member to their ranks.
“Well then, let’s go find out.”
Felix wasn’t an idiot—he wasn’t.
But he was desperate for money; the watch Chris give him—Bang Chan gave him, what the fuck—could only take him so far. Felix would always need more money, which was why he made Jeongin stay at home and promise not to answer the door to anyone, while Felix returned to District 9.
He’d win a few fights, go home with a pocket of cash, and apologise to Hyunjin later about not doing what he was told.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Lee Felix,” a frighteningly familiar voice called out from behind him. “Or should we call you the Luck Dragon?”
As he turned around, heart hammering in his chest, Felix took a moment to admit that he was, perhaps, an idiot. Why the hell did he leave the house?!
Bang Chan stood in front of him, flanked by a handful of men that could only be members of Stray Kids. Oh—yep—he recognised Kim Seungmin; he’d seen him with Hyunjin enough times to know his face. He didn’t know the rest, but they were all unfairly attractive. There was a short guy with rather ridiculous arm muscles, another guy with an impish grin and adorably round cheeks, and an ethereal looking guy who looked like he could kick his ass and Felix would thank him for it.
Was being pretty a prerequisite to joining the mafia?
Hm. It probably wasn’t the best moment to be checking out people who could kill him.
Returning his attention to Chris was a mistake. Now that he wasn’t running for his life or in the middle of a fight, he was remarkably more put-together than the last time Felix saw him. Of course, the last time he had seen him, they’d also made out, which—okay—bad brain! Don’t think of hot make out sessions when there’s a very real possibility you could die!
Felix took another moment to consider that he also, maybe, needed to sort out his priorities.
Chan walked towards him, motioning for his members to stay where they were when they went to follow. He stopped right in front of Felix, as close as he’d been when they’d kissed. God, don’t think of the kiss! Don’t think of the kiss! Don’t—!
Chan reached out and cupped Felix’s cheek, his thumb trailing lightly over his lip. “Hello, Felix.”
He swallowed heavily. “Hi, Chris.”
“Damn,” Cheeks Guy muttered behind them, catching Felix’s attention. “Right in front of my salad?”
Chan sighed, exasperated, and looked over his shoulder. “Jisung.”
Cheeks Guy—Jisung, apparently—nodded, unfazed at annoying his leader. “Right, okay, going away from here for reasons unrelated to whatever Hyung and Freckles have going on over there.”
The ethereal guy groaned and put his head in his hand. “How the hell anyone thinks we’re intimidating when you pull shit like this is beyond me.”
“Like you and Minho-hyung are any better at toning down public affection,” Muscles said, elbowing Jisung in the ribs.
Ethereal Guy’s head snapped up, indignant. “Don’t lump me in with Jisungie, Changbin-ah! I am the picture of restraint.”
“Oh my god,” Seungmin groaned, shepherding them away. “Let’s go before Hyung loses his mind.”
They walked off, heading in the direction of one of the fights that had started around them. Felix blinked after them, because the Minho dude was right, how the hell did anyone think they were intimidating if they acted like that?
“Ignore them,” Chan said, sounding fond and drawing Felix’s attention back to him. “They’re brats, but they’re my brats.”
Chan shook his head as if to clear it, and focused back on Felix. In a second, he turned from an annoyed older brother to a hot mafia leader, and, yeah, Felix could see how people would be intimidated when Chan looked at them like that: head tilted, assessing, and predatory.
“You must have spoken to Hyunjin—do you know who I am now?” Chan asked, soft and dangerous.
Felix took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. “You’re Bang Chan-ssi, leader of Stray Kids.”
“That’s right,” Chan said, leaning in close, his words spoken into Felix’s lips, making it very hard not to give into temptation and kiss him.
“What do you want with me?” he whispered. “Do you want the watch back?”
Chan smiled, dimple on display. “No, that’s yours to keep.”
“Then what?”
Chan stepped back, his expression shifting to something serious, formal, and somehow Felix knew what he was going to say next.
“I want you to join Stray Kids.”