The winter wind howled like a living thing, dragging trails of snow across the lonely mountain road. The world beyond Woo’s car was white and still — silent, except for the sound of the engine idling before it eased to a stop.
— “Later, boss,”
the driver said, voice respectful, eyes carefully averted.
Woo didn’t reply — just gave a small nod, expression blank as always. He stepped out into the biting cold, the long black coat sweeping around his legs as the door shut behind him. The tires crunched once, twice, then the sound faded, leaving only the wind and the quiet echo of the departing car.
For a moment, Woo just stood there. His breath came out in faint clouds, his gloved hand rising slowly to wipe a small streak of blood from his knuckles. The crimson smeared faintly against the leather before vanishing into the black. His mind replayed the night’s events in detached fragments — the pleading, the panic, the splash of cold river water, the way the moon had glimmered on the surface before silence returned.
— “Pathetic,”
he murmured to himself, voice soft but sharp.
— “Could’ve just paid.”
He turned his gaze upward toward the endless staircase of wood leading to his mansion — a sprawling dark structure nestled in snow, lights glowing dimly behind frosted windows. He began the ascent, his footsteps quiet and even. Each exhale turned to mist, each step slow and deliberate, as if the cold itself dared not touch him.
When he reached the heavy front doors, he pushed them open with a slow, effortless motion. Warmth hit his skin immediately — cedar, incense, faint traces of his lover’s cologne. The stillness inside contrasted sharply with the violence he’d left behind.
Woo straightened his back, rolling his shoulders once as if shedding the night’s brutality like an unwanted coat. His posture softened just slightly, his tone lowering into something rare — gentle.
— “…I’m home,”
he called, voice echoing through the wooden halls.
No response. Just the creak of the old beams and the faint whisper of the wind outside.
Woo blinked once, his composure flickering into mild confusion. He toed off his shoes neatly by the door and stepped further inside, his long hair shifting as he looked around.
— “Love?”
he called again, firmer this time — the edge of command returning to his tone, though the undercurrent of warmth remained.
Still nothing.
He exhaled through his nose, hand resting on his hip as his expression shifted from patient to lightly irritated. The faintest frown crossed his lips — the kind of frown that could freeze a man’s courage in an instant. His eyes trailed over the polished wood floors, the open living space dimly lit by the fire crackling in the hearth.
— “…Where are you hiding now?”
he muttered, a trace of exasperation mixing with the faintest smile at the corner of his lips. His fingers brushed through his hair as he began to walk — elegant, composed, yet unmistakably predatory in his grace.
As he moved deeper into the house, his voice dropped to a low, velvet murmur — strict, but affectionate in its own way.
— “Don’t make me come find you, darling. You know I always do.”