Màu nền Màu tối Mặc định Xám nhạt Xanh nhạt Xanh đậm Vàng nhạt Màu sepia Vàng đậm Vàng ố

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Seoul's night gleamed like a sea of flames.
The Baek brothers — Jiho, Jiwoon, and M/n — had abandoned their bloody past, quietly building a hidden world within this unfamiliar city.
A world made only for three.

Jiho ruled the underground racing circuits.
Jiwoon controlled the black markets with his deadly charm and ruthless mind.
And M/n — their precious one, their treasure — was kept safe above all.

Always protected, always shielded.

But tonight... M/n had slipped away.

He craved the wind on his face, the freedom in his lungs.
Riding his familiar bike, M/n darted through Seoul’s shimmering streets, heart soaring.

He didn’t notice the black van tailing him.
Didn't see the gleam of steel from above.
Didn't sense the killshot locking onto him.

One gunshot split the air.

A sharp, merciless sound—
—
And then blood exploded across the street.

M/n's body jerked violently, collapsing onto the cold, merciless asphalt.

At a nearby convenience store, Jiho stared at his phone GPS — M/n’s signal had frozen.

"Why did he stop..." Jiho muttered.

Jiwoon, casually browsing snacks, glanced up at the tiny TV.

Breaking news flashed:
"—teenager shot near Hongdae, identity unknown—"

Everything inside Jiwoon froze.

His hands dropped everything he was holding.

"M/n..." Jiwoon breathed out.

Jiho turned.
One look at Jiwoon’s face, and he knew.
No words needed.

They bolted outside, throwing themselves onto their bikes, racing through red lights, through crowds.

"Hold on, M/n...!" Jiwoon yelled against the wind.

"Just a little longer!" Jiho snarled.

But when they arrived...

They saw him.

Small.

Still.

Bleeding out onto the cruel concrete.

Jiho dropped to his knees, gathering M/n’s limp body.
Jiwoon grabbed M/n’s hand, sobbing uncontrollably.

"M/n... wake up...!" Jiho whispered hoarsely.

"You said you’d stay..." Jiwoon choked out.

The sirens, the shouting crowd — it all faded away.

There was only the three of them, trapped in a nightmare.

Paramedics tried to intervene, but Jiho shoved them off.

"Get away! You failed him!" he roared, his eyes feral with grief.

"Our M/n..." Jiwoon wept.

Above them, the sky remained silent.
The city moved on, uncaring.

But something inside Jiho and Jiwoon —
— shattered forever.

And a darkness began to bloom in its place.

•

•

The sky was overcast that day.

As if the heavens were mourning with the living, light rain drizzled quietly, sliding through the leaves surrounding the new Baek family mansion—the place where the funeral was being held for someone who should never have left so soon.

M/n lay still in a dark wooden coffin placed in the center of the mansion's grand hall. No one dared to approach the two men standing beside the framed photo. They were Baek Jiho and Baek Jiwoon—the twin heirs of the Baek family, and the older brothers who had just lost their only younger sibling.

Their subordinates—racing team members, strategic advisors, personal aides—remained silent, not daring even to breathe too loudly. No one spoke. Every eye in the room was fixed on the two figures standing like frozen statues before the casket.

The soft sound of funeral music echoed through the hall, accompanied by the gentle patter of rain.

One of the racers stepped forward, intending to place a white flower next to the coffin, but Jiho raised a hand to stop them. His cold gray eyes were unwavering as he said:

“No need. M/n didn’t like the scent of white flowers.”

A simple sentence. But it silenced the entire room.

Jiwoon remained rooted in place, eyes reddened, clutching the worn sketchbook that M/n had once used. On the last page was an unfinished drawing—the Baek mansion swallowed in red flames. M/n’s final words echoed endlessly in his mind:

“I don’t want you two to be tied down by something called ‘duty.’ I just need both of you.”

Jiwoon bowed his head, lips trembling.

“I still couldn’t save you…”

[...]

The funeral home was drenched in a cold, sterile whiteness. The air was still—so still that even the softest footsteps echoed like cracks across the polished floor. Pale curtains swayed gently in the breeze that slipped through the half-open window, brushing against the silk ribbons tied delicately around the photo frame.

M/n lay within the casket, lifeless. No more warmth. No more sweet voice murmuring to his brothers, no more gentle hands clinging to Jiho's coat or hiding behind Jiwoon while whispering, "I just want to stay with you... forever."

Now he was still. Beautiful, fragile, but cold.

Jiho and Jiwoon knelt before the altar. Their heads bowed, their bodies tense with silence—but within, a storm brewed.

Jiho clenched his fists, nails cutting into his palms until they bled. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet each word carried frost:

"He shouldn't have gone out alone... He shouldn't have been allowed to leave..."

His voice cracked slightly. Red-rimmed eyes stared into the flickering candlelight, the scent of incense biting his throat.

Jiwoon remained silent beside him.

"Jiwoon..." Jiho muttered. "Why... why didn't you watch him? You knew he wasn't supposed to leave—so where the hell were you?!"

The word "you" turned into a venomous "you bastard" in Jiho's tone.

Jiwoon looked up, face still and unreadable. "What did you just say?"

Jiho rose to his feet, fire in his eyes. "He was everything to me. I told you to keep him safe! What the hell were you doing while he slipped out the damn door?!"

Jiwoon stood up, meeting Jiho eye to eye, his own anger beginning to surface:

"And where were you, Jiho? You were too busy with the crew, too busy negotiating shipments—so don’t pin this on me like you were there for him either."

"YOU—!"

Jiho lunged, shoving Jiwoon back toward the altar. The picture frame nearly tipped over. Gasps echoed through the room as subordinates stepped aside. No one dared interfere.

Jiwoon grabbed Jiho by the collar. "You think I don't feel the pain? He's my brother too! I wanted to die when I saw him lying in that alley!"

Jiho spat: "AND YOU STILL LET HIM GO!"

Fists flew. One hit Jiho’s jaw. A knee drove into Jiwoon’s side. Their fight wasn’t a brawl—it was grief made flesh. Rage wrapped in sorrow. But it didn’t last long.

They collapsed, side by side, breathing heavily in front of the coffin that held their most precious person.

Outside, rain began to fall. The scent of lilies and burning incense mingled in the air.

Jiho clutched his wrist, where a makeshift bandage wrapped over wounds he inflicted on himself in a fit of rage. His voice cracked:

"I promised him... I swore I'd protect him. And now... he’s here. Because I failed."

Jiwoon crouched next to him, trembling. "He never wanted to leave us. He just wanted a bit of air. We... we smothered him so much he had to sneak out."

Silence fell once again.

Then Jiho whispered, like a prayer swallowed by guilt:

"We should’ve walked away from the family... long ago. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have..."

Jiwoon nodded slowly, tears finally falling.

"But he always said... he couldn’t breathe without us."

In that moment, they both knew.

They had loved him so fiercely, so obsessively, they forgot that love without air is suffocation.

Author:...I..uhmm..PLEASE let me know if there are any mistakes in chapter 4!! I don't remember if I forgot anything or not and I woke up early at 5:30 am to release chapter 4 and then got my things ready to get on the car, I promise to release the next chapter today. Remember to vote and comment ♡