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The mansion loomed against the night sky like a beast of glass and stone, its windows blazing with golden light that spilled across the manicured grounds. Jaeyun stood at the edge of the property, hidden among the carefully sculpted hedges, watching as luxury cars rolled up the circular driveway one after another. Men and women emerged in elaborate masks and designer clothes, their laughter carrying on the cool spring air as they disappeared through the massive double doors.
His fingers trembled as he adjusted his own mask, a sleek black half-mask adorned with silver filigree that covered the upper portion of his face. The suit he wore was borrowed, tailored hastily to fit his small frame, but it would pass inspection in the low lighting of the party. It had to. Everything depended on blending in tonight, on becoming just another faceless guest at Lee Heeseung's legendary Walpurgis Night celebration.
Jaeyun closed his eyes and took a slow breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. Behind his eyelids, he saw flames. Always flames. The orange glow consuming wooden houses, the acrid smoke choking the air, the screams of his neighbors as bullets tore through the night. His mother's face, pale and still, eyes staring at nothing. His father's hand, still warm when Jaeyun had held it, the small knife pressed into his palm as a final gift.
"For protection," his father had whispered with his last breath. "Keep it close."
Jaeyun's hand moved to his inner jacket pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of that same blade. It was small, easily concealed, but sharp enough to serve its purpose. By midnight, Lee Heeseung would know its edge. By midnight, Jaeyun would have his first taste of revenge against The Coven.
He opened his eyes and straightened his shoulders. The time for grief had passed. Tonight was about action.
Moving with practiced stealth, Jaeyun slipped through the gardens, following the route he had memorized from weeks of surveillance. The security was tight, but not impossible, guards stationed at regular intervals, their attention focused on the main entrances rather than the shadowed pathways between the rose gardens. He timed his movements between their rotations, his soft-soled shoes making no sound on the stone paths.
The servants' entrance was less guarded, just as his informant had promised. Jaeyun waited in the shadows until a group of catering staff hurried past, carrying trays of champagne glasses. He fell into step behind them, head down, movements casual. No one questioned him. No one even looked.
Inside, the mansion was a revelation of wealth and excess. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their light reflecting off polished marble floors. Priceless artwork adorned the walls, paintings Jaeyun recognized from his mother's art books, pieces that belonged in museums, not private homes. The air smelled of expensive perfume, fine wine, and something darker underneath. Power. Corruption. Blood money translated into beauty.
Jaeyun's jaw tightened as he navigated through the service corridors, following the sound of music and conversation toward the main ballroom. Each ornate decoration, each lavish detail was a reminder of what The Coven had taken from him. His village had been poor, struggling, but it had been home. These people had burned it to ash to prove a point, to punish some perceived slight, to remind the world that they were untouchable.
But they weren't. Not tonight.
He emerged into a grand hallway where other guests mingled, and immediately adjusted his posture, his expression. The rage that simmered in his chest was locked away behind a carefully constructed mask of polite interest. He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing server, letting it serve as a prop as he made his way toward the ballroom.
The double doors stood open, revealing a space that could have been pulled from a fairy tale. The ballroom was enormous, its ceiling painted with Renaissance-style frescoes of mythological scenes. Hundreds of candles flickered in wall sconces, their warm light mixing with the cooler glow of modern spotlights focused on a raised platform where a string quartet played. The music was beautiful, haunting, a waltz that seemed to echo with melancholy despite its technical perfection.
Guests swirled across the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of color and movement, their masks ranging from simple dominoes to elaborate creations of feathers and jewels. Everyone who was anyone in the underground world seemed to be here, arms dealers, money launderers, corrupt officials. The Coven's yearly gathering was legendary, an event where deals were made, alliances forged, and enemies marked.
Jaeyun stepped inside, letting himself be swept into the crowd. His eyes scanned the room, searching for his target. he had studied photographs of Lee Heeseung for months, memorized every detail of his face, but finding him in this masked throng would be…
His breath caught.
Across the ballroom, standing near a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the gardens, was a man who could only be Heeseung. Even with half his face hidden behind a white mask decorated with gold accents, he was unmistakable. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than Jaeyun's entire year of living expenses. His dark hair was styled back from his forehead, revealing sharp features and lips curved in a slight smile as he conversed with a group of older men.
But it wasn't just his appearance that made him stand out. There was something about the way he carried himself, a natural authority that made others unconsciously defer to him. People gravitated toward him, seeking his attention, his approval. Even from across the room, Jaeyun could feel the pull of his presence.
This was the man who controlled The Coven. The man responsible for countless deaths, including everyone Jaeyun had ever loved.
Jaeyun took a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles burn down his throat, and began to plan his approach. He needed to get close, to separate Heeseung from the crowd without raising suspicion. The knife in his pocket seemed to grow heavier, more insistent.
He was so focused on his target that he didn't notice when Heeseung's gaze shifted, and didn't see the moment those dark eyes found him across the crowded ballroom.
But he felt it.
The sensation was like electricity across his skin, a sudden awareness that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Jaeyun's eyes snapped up, meeting Heeseung's stare across the distance. For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade, the music becoming distant and dreamlike.
Heeseung was looking at him. Really looking, with an intensity that made Jaeyun's pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with his mission.
Then Heeseung smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of lips that promised trouble, and excused himself from his conversation. He began moving through the crowd, his path direct and purposeful.
He was coming straight toward Jaeyun.
Panic flared in Jaeyun's chest, but he forced it down. This was fine. This was better than fine. If Heeseung came to him, he wouldn't have to manufacture an introduction. He just needed to stay calm, stay in character.
He turned slightly, pretending interest in one of the paintings on the wall, making himself appear casual and unaware. His heart hammered against his ribs as he sensed Heeseung's approach, and felt the man's presence like heat at his back.
"I don't recognize you."
The voice was deep, smooth as aged whiskey, and closer than Jaeyun had expected. He turned slowly, composing his expression into one of polite surprise.
Up close, Heeseung was even more striking. The mask couldn't hide the sharp intelligence in his eyes, the way they seemed to catalog every detail of Jaeyun's appearance. He stood close, closer than was strictly polite, near enough that Jaeyun could smell his cologne, something expensive and understated with notes of cedar and bergamot.
"Should you?" Jaeyun asked, pitching his voice slightly higher than normal, affecting a lightness he didn't feel. "Recognize me, I mean. Is this not a masquerade?"
Heeseung's smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. "It is. But I make it my business to know everyone who enters my home." He tilted his head slightly, studying Jaeyun with unabashed curiosity. "Particularly beautiful strangers who appear out of nowhere."
The compliment caught Jaeyun off guard, sending an unwelcome flutter through his stomach. He pushed the reaction aside. This was manipulation, nothing more. Men like Heeseung used charm the way others used weapons.
"Perhaps I'm a ghost," Jaeyun said, meeting those dark eyes with what he hoped was an enigmatic smile. "Walpurgis Night is when the veil between worlds grows thin, isn't it? Maybe I slipped through."
"A ghost." Heeseung's eyes gleamed with amusement. "That would explain why you're the most captivating person in this room and yet I have no idea who you are." He extended a hand, long fingers that probably pulled triggers as easily as they signed death warrants. "Lee Heeseung. Though you probably knew that already."
Jaeyun hesitated for only a fraction of a second before placing his hand in Heeseung's. The touch was warm, firm, and when Heeseung raised Jaeyun's hand to his lips, the brush of his mouth against Jaeyun's knuckles sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.
"Jaeyun," he said, giving his real name because he had learned long ago that the best lies were wrapped in truth. No last name, nothing that could be traced. Just Jaeyun, mysterious and forgettable.
"Just Jaeyun?" Heeseung's thumb traced a slow circle on the back of Jaeyun's hand before he released it. "Are you here alone?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does if I want to monopolize your evening." Heeseung stepped closer, and Jaeyun found himself backed against the wall beside the painting, the cool plaster pressing through his suit jacket. "And I find that I very much want to monopolize your evening, Jaeyun."
The way he said the name, low and intimate, made it sound like a secret. Jaeyun's mouth went dry. This was not how he had imagined this encounter going. In his plans, he was the one doing the seducing, the one in control. But Heeseung had turned the tables without any apparent effort, and now Jaeyun found himself struggling to maintain his composure.
"Quite presumptuous," Jaeyun managed, forcing a coy smile. "What if I had other plans for the evening?"
"Then I'd convince you to change them." Heeseung placed one hand on the wall beside Jaeyun's head, leaning in. He wasn't quite touching, but he was close enough that Jaeyun could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I'm very persuasive when I want something."
"And you want me?" The question came out more breathless than Jaeyun intended.
"Can you blame me?" Heeseung's gaze traveled slowly down Jaeyun's face, lingering on his lips before returning to his eyes. "You walk into my party like some kind of dream, won't tell me your full name, won't tell me who you came with. You're a mystery, and I've always been terrible at leaving mysteries unsolved."
Jaeyun's mind raced. This was dangerous. Every instinct screamed at him to create distance, to deflect, to run. But this was also an opportunity. Heeseung was interested, very interested, and that interest could be the key to getting him alone.
"Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved," Jaeyun said, looking up through his lashes in a way he had seen girls do in movies. "Maybe that's part of the appeal."
"You might be right." Heeseung's free hand came up, fingers ghosting along the edge of Jaeyun's mask. "But I'm not very good at leaving things alone. Especially when they're this intriguing."
The music shifted, the quartet beginning a new piece, something slower, more sensual. Around them, couples began pairing off, moving toward the dance floor.
"Dance with me," Heeseung said. It wasn't quite a question, but it wasn't quite a command either. His hand extended between them, palm up, an invitation.
Jaeyun looked at that hand and thought about all the things it had done. The deals it had signed, the weapons it had sold, the orders it had given. This hand had probably personally killed people. It had certainly ordered the deaths of hundreds, including Jaeyun's family.
And now it was asking him to dance.
The irony was almost poetic.
"Yes," Jaeyun said, placing his hand in Heeseung's once more. "I would like that."
Heeseung's smile was brilliant, transforming his face from merely handsome to devastating. He pulled Jaeyun toward the dance floor, fingers intertwined, navigating through the crowd with easy confidence. People stepped aside for him automatically, their eyes following with a mixture of envy and fear.
On the dance floor, Heeseung pulled Jaeyun close, one hand settling at the small of his back while the other held Jaeyun's hand at shoulder height. The position was traditional for a waltz, but there was nothing traditional about the way Heeseung looked at him, hungry and amused and intensely focused.
They began to move, and Jaeyun was surprised to find that Heeseung was an excellent dancer. He led with confidence, guiding Jaeyun through the steps effortlessly. Jaeyun had learned to dance from his mother, who had insisted that it was an essential skill for navigating society. He had never imagined he would be using those lessons to waltz with his family's killer.
"You dance well," Heeseung observed, spinning them smoothly past another couple. "Training?"
"My mother taught me," Jaeyun said, the truth slipping out before he could stop it. "She said everyone should know how to dance."
"Wise woman. Is she here tonight?"
"No." The word came out harder than he intended. "She's gone."
Heeseung's expression shifted, something that might have been sympathy crossing his features. "I'm sorry."
Jaeyun almost laughed. Sorry. This man was sorry. The absurdity of it choked him.
"It was a long time ago," he said instead, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
They fell into silence, moving together to the music. Jaeyun tried to focus on his mission, on the knife in his pocket, on the plan. But it was hard to concentrate when Heeseung was this close, when he could feel the solid warmth of the other man's body, when those dark eyes never left his face.
"You're tense," Heeseung murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles against Jaeyun's lower back. "Relax. I won't bite. Not unless you ask me to."
The suggestive comment sent heat flooding through Jaeyun's cheeks. "You're very forward."
"Life's too short to waste time dancing around what we want." Heeseung pulled him infinitesimally closer, until their bodies were nearly flush. "And I'm finding that I want you quite desperately."
This was insane. This was wrong on every possible level. Jaeyun should feel nothing but hatred for this man, and should be repulsed by his touch. But his body was betraying him, responding to Heeseung's proximity with an attraction that made no sense.
It's just biology, he told himself. Just chemicals and hormones. It doesn't mean anything.
"You don't even know me," Jaeyun said, trying to inject some levity into his tone. "I could be anyone. A thief, a spy, an assassin."
Heeseung laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Darling, do you know where you are? Half the people in this room are thieves, spies, or assassins. That's hardly a deterrent."
"What if I'm here to kill you?"
The words were out before Jaeyun could stop them, dancing on the edge of the truth, testing.
Heeseung's eyes gleamed. "Then I would say you're doing a terrible job of it, considering you're currently in my arms on a dance floor surrounded by my people." He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Jaeyun's ear. "But if you were here to kill me, I think I would want to kiss you first. Just to see what I'd be missing."
Jaeyun's breath caught. The casual way Heeseung discussed his own potential murder, the easy confidence, the shameless flirting, it was disorienting. This wasn't how villains were supposed to act. They weren't supposed to be charming and funny and make you forget, even for a moment, what they'd done.
"You're impossible," Jaeyun said, pulling back slightly to look at Heeseung's face.
"I've been called worse." Heeseung spun them in a tight circle, and Jaeyun had to clutch at his shoulder for balance. "Tell me something real, Jaeyun. Something true."
"What makes you think I've been lying?"
"Everyone lies at these parties. It's expected. But I want something real from you." His hand tightened at Jaeyun's waist. "Just one thing."
Jaeyun considered. What could he give that was true but wouldn't expose him? "I haven't danced like this in years," he said finally. "I had almost forgotten what it felt like."
"And? What does it feel like?"
"Like flying," Jaeyun admitted, surprising himself with honesty. "Like I'm somewhere else entirely."
Heeseung's expression softened into something that looked almost tender. "Then let's fly together, just for tonight."
They danced through three more songs, barely speaking, just moving together in perfect synchronization. Jaeyun tried to maintain his focus, to remember why he was here, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The warmth of Heeseung's body, the skill with which he led, the way he looked at Jaeyun like he was something precious and rare, it was intoxicating.
Other guests watched them, whispers spreading through the crowd. Jaeyun could feel their stares, could sense the speculation. Lee Heeseung, dancing for half an hour with the same mysterious stranger. It would be the talk of the party.
When the quartet finally took a break, Heeseung led Jaeyun off the dance floor, keeping their hands linked. "Champagne?" he offered, snagging two glasses from a passing server.
"Thank you." Jaeyun accepted the glass gratefully, his throat dry from exertion and nerves. He sipped carefully, trying not to drink too much. He needed to keep his wits about him.
"Tell me more about yourself," Heeseung said, guiding them toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. "Where are you from? What do you do? Why have I never seen you before?"
"So many questions." Jaeyun smiled behind his mask. "Maybe I like being mysterious."
"And maybe I like solving mysteries." Heeseung's finger traced the stem of his champagne glass thoughtfully. "You're not from Seoul, are you? Your accent, it's subtle, but there's something there. Somewhere south?"
Jaeyun's stomach clenched. he had worked so hard to neutralize his accent, to erase any trace of his previous life. The fact that Heeseung had noticed meant he was more observant than Jaeyun had given him credit for.
"I've moved around a lot," he said vaguely. "Never stayed in one place long enough to call it home."
"Mm. A drifter. I can understand the appeal." Heeseung studied him over the rim of his glass. "Must be lonely though."
"Sometimes." The admission slipped out unbidden, more honest than Jaeyun intended. "But it's safer this way."
"Safer?" Heeseung's eyebrow rose. "What are you running from, beautiful stranger?"
Everything, Jaeyun thought. Grief. Memories. The past. And now, inexplicably, he was also running from the confusing feelings this man stirred in him.
"Ghosts," he said aloud. "Isn't everyone running from something?"
"Fair enough." Heeseung set his empty glass aside. "I won't press. Part of your mystery, I suppose." He glanced toward the windows, where the gardens were visible in the moonlight. "It's getting warm in here. Would you like some air?"
"Yes, actually." This was it. This was the opportunity Jaeyun had been waiting for. Get Heeseung alone, away from the crowd, and strike when the moment is right.
But even as he thought it, something uncomfortable twisted in his chest.
Heeseung led him through the ballroom, past clusters of masked guests, toward a set of French doors that opened onto a terrace. The night air was cool and refreshing after the warmth of the crowded ballroom, carrying the scent of roses and jasmine from the gardens below.
"Better?" Heeseung asked, watching as Jaeyun took a deep breath.
"Much." Jaeyun moved to the stone balustrade, looking out over the illuminated gardens. They were extensive, paths winding between sculpted hedges and flowerbeds, fountains gleaming in the moonlight. In the distance, he could see the preparations for midnight, fireworks ready to launch, their silhouettes stark against the sky.
Heeseung came to stand beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "I love this view," he said quietly. "Sometimes when these parties become too much, I come out here just to breathe."
It was such a human thing to say. Such a normal confession. Jaeyun found himself looking at Heeseung's profile, studying the strong lines of his face in the moonlight. Without the mask, would he look different? Would there be signs of the monster underneath?
"Do you throw parties like this often?" Jaeyun asked, genuinely curious despite himself.
"Once a year. Walpurgis Night tradition." Heeseung turned to face him, leaning one hip against the balustrade. "It's expected. I'm expected to play the gracious host, to smile and shake hands and make deals. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just... didn't."
"Why don't you find out?"
"Because that's not how this world works." Heeseung's smile was wry, self-aware. "We all have our roles to play, don't we? Mine just happens to involve expensive parties and dangerous people."
"And what's my role?" Jaeyun asked. "In your world?"
"Tonight?" Heeseung reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair back from Jaeyun's forehead. "Tonight you're the beautiful mystery who's made me forget about everything else. Tomorrow..." He shrugged. "Tomorrow you'll probably disappear like Cinderella, leaving me with nothing but questions."
The comparison to Cinderella made Jaeyun's lips quirk. If only Heeseung knew how apt it was. Except Jaeyun's midnight deadline wasn't about carriages turning into pumpkins, it was about knives and blood and revenge.
"Would that be so bad?" Jaeyun asked. "Disappearing, I mean."
"Yes." The answer was immediate, certain. "Because I'm not ready to let you go yet."
Heeseung's hand cupped Jaeyun's cheek, thumb brushing across his cheekbone just below the mask. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and completely at odds with everything Jaeyun knew about this man.
"You shouldn't say things like that," Jaeyun whispered. "To someone you just met."
"Why not? What if tonight is all we have?" Heeseung's eyes were dark, intense. "What if you really are a ghost, and by morning you'll be gone? Shouldn't I at least be honest about wanting you while you're here?"
Jaeyun's heart was racing. This was spiraling out of control. He was supposed to be seducing Heeseung, manipulating him, getting close enough for the kill. But instead, he felt like he was the one being seduced, like he was the one losing control.
"Walk with me," he said suddenly, needing to move, to do something other than stand here drowning in Heeseung's gaze. "In the gardens. Please."
"Of course." Heeseung offered his arm like a gentleman from another era, and Jaeyun took it, letting himself be led down the terrace steps into the gardens.
The paths were lit with subtle ground lighting, creating pools of illumination among the shadows. The sounds of the party faded as they walked deeper into the gardens, the music becoming a distant melody. They passed a fountain where water trickled over marble figures, their faces serene in the moonlight.
"It's beautiful here," Jaeyun said, and meant it. "Like a different world."
"That's the idea." Heeseung guided them down a path lined with rose bushes, their blooms heavy and fragrant. "Out here, I can almost pretend I'm someone else. Someone normal."
"Do you want to be normal?"
"Sometimes." Heeseung's smile was sad. "Other times, I wouldn't know what to do with a normal life if I had one. This is all I've ever known."
"This life? The... business?"
"My father's legacy." Heeseung's jaw tightened slightly. "I was born into this. Raised for it. I didn't choose it any more than you chose where you were born."
Jaeyun thought about his own father, about the choice his parents had made to build a life in that small village, to try to stay clear of the criminal underworld that dominated so much of the country. They'd tried to choose peace, and it had gotten them killed anyway.
"We always have choices," Jaeyun said quietly. "Maybe not about where we start, but about where we go. What we do."
"Do we?" Heeseung stopped walking, turning to face him. "Because right now, I feel like I don't have a choice at all. Like every path leads me straight to you."
The intensity in his voice made Jaeyun's breath catch. This was too much, too real. He needed to end this, to complete his mission and get out before he lost himself completely.
They had reached a more secluded part of the garden, where a small pavilion stood surrounded by weeping willows. The structure was elegant, white columns supporting a domed roof, with a bench inside facing a koi pond.
"It's almost midnight," Jaeyun observed, checking the time on his watch. Fifteen minutes. He had fifteen minutes.
"Is that significant?" Heeseung asked, but there was something knowing in his eyes.
"Isn't midnight always significant on Walpurgis Night?" Jaeyun moved toward the pavilion, and Heeseung followed. "The height of magic. The moment when anything is possible."
"And what do you want to be possible, Jaeyun?"
They were inside the pavilion now, shadowed and private. Jaeyun could hear his pulse in his ears, loud and insistent. This was it. This was the moment.
He turned to face Heeseung, stepping close, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. "I want..." He let the sentence trail off, reaching up to touch Heeseung's mask. "May I?"
Heeseung's hand caught his wrist, gentle but firm. "Only if I can remove yours too."
It was a test, Jaeyun realized. A challenge. Who would be brave enough to reveal themselves first?
"Together then," Jaeyun said.
They reached for each other's masks simultaneously, fingers working at the ribbons that held them in place. The silk slid free, and the masks fell away, leaving them face to face with nothing between them.
Heeseung was even more handsome without the mask, his features sharp and aristocratic, with intense eyes that seemed to see straight through Jaeyun. And Jaeyun, he felt naked without the mask's protection, exposed.
"Beautiful," Heeseung breathed, his free hand coming up to trace Jaeyun's jaw. "I knew you would be."
"So are you," Jaeyun admitted, because it was true and because he was tired of lying.
Heeseung's smile was soft, almost vulnerable. "Come here."
He pulled Jaeyun close, wrapping an arm around his waist. Their faces were inches apart now, and Jaeyun could see flecks of gold in Heeseung's dark eyes, could count his eyelashes if he wanted to.
"I should tell you," Heeseung murmured, "that I don't usually do this. Let strangers get this close. It's dangerous in my line of work."
"Then why am I here?"
"Because you make me want to be reckless." Heeseung's thumb brushed across Jaeyun's lower lip. "Because the moment I saw you, something in me recognized something in you. Like calling to like."
Jaeyun's hand slid around Heeseung's neck, fingers threading into the hair at his nape. His other hand moved toward his jacket pocket, slow and subtle.
"Kiss me," he whispered, because he needed Heeseung distracted, needed him not to notice what Jaeyun was doing.
And because, God help him, some part of him actually wanted it.
Heeseung made a soft sound, almost pained, and closed the distance between them. His lips met Jaeyun's in a kiss that was gentle at first, questioning. When Jaeyun responded, opening to him, it deepened into something more urgent. Heeseung's hand fisted in Jaeyun's jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, while his other hand cradled the back of Jaeyun's head.
Jaeyun's fingers found the knife in his pocket. The smooth handle was familiar, comforting. His father's last gift. His instrument of revenge.
The kiss was making his head spin, making him forget why he was here. Heeseung tasted like champagne and something darker, something addictive. His hands were everywhere, in Jaeyun's hair, at his waist, tracing the line of his spine, and Jaeyun found himself responding with equal fervor, pressing closer, wanting more.
This was wrong. This was so wrong. He wasn't supposed to feel this, wasn't supposed to want this.
But he did.
And that's why he had to end it.
Jaeyun's hand slid from Heeseung's neck, wrapping around the front of his throat instead, tilting his head back. Heeseung made a pleased sound, clearly interpreting it as part of their passionate embrace. His eyes were closed, his expression almost blissful.
In one smooth motion, Jaeyun pulled the knife from his pocket and drove it toward the side of Heeseung's exposed neck.
The blade never connected.
Heeseung's hand shot up, catching Jaeyun's wrist in a grip like iron. His eyes snapped open, and the look in them was no longer soft or vulnerable. It was sharp, calculating, and utterly unsurprised.
"Did you really think," Heeseung said quietly, his voice dropping to something cold and dangerous, "that I didn't know?"
Jaeyun's blood turned to ice. He tried to pull back, but Heeseung's grip was unbreakable. With his free hand, Heeseung twisted Jaeyun around, slamming him back against one of the pavilion's columns. The impact drove the air from Jaeyun's lungs.
"I'm not stupid, Jaeyun, if that's even your real name." Heeseung pinned both of Jaeyun's wrists above his head with one hand, his body pressed against Jaeyun's from chest to hip, effectively trapping him. "Did you think I wouldn't notice a stranger appearing at my heavily guarded party? That I wouldn't have you followed from the moment you entered my home?"
Horror washed through Jaeyun. He had been made from the beginning. Every moment, every word, every touch, Heeseung had known.
"The dancing, the flirting, the kiss?" Heeseung's laugh was bitter. "All of it real, unfortunately. But I'm not fool enough to let my guard down completely. Not even for someone as captivating as you."
He plucked the knife from Jaeyun's grip, examining it in the moonlight. Something flickered across his face, recognition? "This knife... where did you get this?"
Jaeyun said nothing, his jaw clenched tight.
"Fine. Don't answer." Heeseung pocketed the blade and leaned in close, his lips brushing Jaeyun's ear. "Now I have a question for you, beautiful ghost. What am I going to do with you?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Jaeyun's mind raced through possibilities, none of them good. He had failed. His mission had failed. And now he was at the mercy of the man he'd come to kill.
From somewhere in the distance, the first firework exploded, painting the sky with gold and red. Midnight had arrived.