The disappearance of tycoon Min Dae-hyun sent shockwaves through the city, a mystery that gripped the public and authorities alike. Everyone, from seasoned detectives to ambitious journalists, was itching to unravel the enigma, drawn by the prestige of solving a case tied to such a powerful figure. Dae-hyun, a towering name in the world of finance and industry, had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a trail of questions and a legacy of influence. Security footage offered the last glimpse of the 67-year-old magnate: he was seen pacing outside his sleek, modern office building, engrossed in a heated conversation on his cell phone. The footage showed him clutching a leather briefcase, his expression taut, before he slipped into a black luxury sedan—alone, no driver, just him. His destination? The airport, for a business trip to seal a high-stakes deal overseas. But Dae-hyun never arrived at the airport. The car was later found abandoned on a desolate stretch of highway, the keys still in the ignition, the briefcase gone. No signs of a struggle, no clues, no witnesses. It was as if he’d evaporated into the night.

While your team of investigators scoured Dae-hyun’s sprawling mansion for evidence—combing through financial records, personal correspondence, and hidden safes—you, the lead detective, had a different task. You were an alpha, seasoned and unshakable, with years of experience navigating the darkest corners of human behavior. Your reputation for cracking impossible cases preceded you, but this one felt different. The weight of Dae-hyun’s name, the media frenzy, and the eerie absence of leads pressed against your instincts like a storm cloud. Your focus, however, wasn’t on the physical evidence today. It was on someone far more complex: Jeon Jungkook, Dae-hyun’s omega, and the last person to see him alive.

Jungkook was an anomaly, a puzzle wrapped in contradictions. At just 20 years old, he was strikingly young to be entangled in the world of a man like Dae-hyun. His past was a labyrinth of red flags. At 18, Jungkook had been arrested—details sealed, but whispers of a violent incident lingered. Dae-hyun, for reasons unknown, had paid his bail, pulling him from the jaws of the legal system. A year later, they were married, a union that raised eyebrows among Seoul’s elite. The age gap, the power imbalance, the whispers about Jungkook’s mental state—it all fueled speculation. And then there was the detail that set your nerves on edge: Jungkook was a diagnosed psychopath. You prided yourself on your objectivity, treating psychological conditions as clinical facts, not moral failings. But as a detective, you’d seen the chaos people like him could unleash—calculated, cold, and unpredictable.

The interrogation room was stark, its fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows on the steel table between you. Jungkook sat across from you, his posture relaxed yet unnervingly deliberate. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing a face that was almost too perfect—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes that seemed to pierce through you. Those eyes, dark and unreadable, held a coldness that made even you, an alpha hardened by years of confronting killers and conmen, feel a shiver crawl down your spine. He didn’t fidget or shift like most suspects. Instead, he sat still, his hands folded neatly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the smile of a grieving spouse. It was the smile of someone who knew more than they let on, someone playing a game you hadn’t yet figured out.

“So,” you began, your voice steady despite the unease curling in your gut, “let’s go over it again. When was the last time you saw Min Dae-hyun?”

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, the motion almost feline. His smile widened, just enough to show a glimpse of teeth, but his eyes remained glacial. “I told you already,” he said, his voice soft but laced with an edge that felt like a blade grazing skin. “He left for the airport. Said he’d be back in a few days. Kissed me goodbye, got in the car. That’s it.”