BAI Ch 3

“I raised you wrong.”

“Father…”

“I won’t ask why. It’s all over anyway.”

“Don’t say that.”

Ha Shinsung pleaded.

“Don’t talk like that, Father. There’s no need to sacrifice someone else to protect my honor. Just let me contact Shin Haebeom first. If I can negotiate well, I’ll handle the aftermath myself. I can fix this…”

“Shut your mouth!”

Ha Shinsung swallowed dryly.

“You keep quiet. Don’t even think about trying to reach out to the Disciplinary Task Force. The last negotiation only worked because Gwak Hyeonwoo had no more information to give.”

Gwak Hyeonwoo was a rookie who hadn’t been with the organization long. But Ryujin was different. Ha Sungrok had personally brought him in, and Ha Shinsung had invested years molding him into a promising talent. Shin Haebeom would strip Ryujin to the bone to finally uproot <White Lion>.

“Then we need to save him! Before he spills everything he knows!”

“I’ve already moved the critical data. Talks with China are finalized too. You just get the crew packed up. Starting tomorrow, the club’s on indefinite hiatus.”

A phrase flashed through Ha Shinsung’s mind: cutting the tail.

“Father.”

“Each team leader will take their crew and meet in Shanghai. We’re heading to Shenzhen. I still own a building there. You remember it, don’t you?”

“Father!”

“Don’t make me say more!”

Ha Shinsung’s body trembled uncontrollably.

“Did you want him to die, Father?”

That was the only explanation.

“What?”

“Isn’t it obvious! From what you’re doing right now!”

Ha Sungrok wanted Ryujin dead. Dead and silenced for good. Cha Moeun and Baek Sayul had merely provided the excuse.

Ha Shinsung clenched his shaking fist. His nails dug into his palm.

“Father, do you remember the first time we met Jung Ryujin?”

“…”

“When you brought him into <White Lion>?”

“…”

“You asked me to take him on, said he had potential and to train him well—don’t you remember that?”

Ha Sungrok didn’t answer. He looked like a man incapable of hearing anything now. Ha Shinsung grabbed the arm of the man—his father and boss—passing by him.

“Just… answer one thing.”

Ha Sungrok sighed.

“What?”

“If Ryujin had come back alive, what would you have done?”

“…”

“If he’d killed Jin Chiwoo, stayed undetected, and returned safely—what would you have done with him?”

Ha Sungrok didn’t respond. Looking up at Ha Shinsung, he was no longer ‘Father.’ At this moment, Ha Sungrok was purely the ‘boss’—a man calculating gains and losses, making cold, analytical decisions.

✶⋆.˚

Jin Chiwoo was a sports car enthusiast. Every paycheck, aside from what went to his mother, was poured into buying, maintaining, and tuning cars.

His collection consisted of exorbitant imported vehicles most salarymen could only dream of. Sure, many were financed with loans, but regardless, as the Disciplinary Task Force deputy commander, Jin Chiwoo was a state-backed ‘hot’ celebrity. With a history of media appearances and various scandals, his fame even outshone Shin Haebeom’s.

Jin Chiwoo had a particular fondness for red. He loved its symbolism of wealth, passion, and blazing flames—that dazzling color. Last year, he’d splurged on a full repaint and interior tuning for his beloved ‘Valkyrie.’ Tailored perfectly to his taste, Valkyrie won his heart.

Valkyrie became Jin Chiwoo’s emblem. Gleaming vivid red under bright sunlight and blood-like in the dark of night, the warrior’s fame boosted red car sales. Jin Chiwoo flaunted his affection for Valkyrie across all kinds of media.

That car had now crossed the irreversible River Styx. Right in the Disciplinary Task Force parking lot, in front of Jin Chiwoo’s eyes.

For a while, Jin Chiwoo was dazed. As the shock wore off, rage surged. He burned with resolve to avenge his beloved car. If he couldn’t? He’d rather join it in the scrapyard.

So when Jin Chiwoo kicked open the interrogation room door, Major Gi Woohee, monitoring the situation, spoke.

“No entry right now.”

“You’re stopping me?”

“It’s the commander’s orders.”

“Then tell him I’m here. I’m the one who needs to beat that bastard down, so switch with me now!”

“That’s not possible. But if you wait here, who knows?”

Gi Woohee pointed to the chair across from her. Jin Chiwoo grumbled but sat down.

A sharp-witted NCO brought coffee. The spot Gi Woohee offered had a prime view through the one-way mirror, but the blinds were down, and the speaker was off.

“Why’s the sound off? Turn it on. I want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Commander’s orders. No interference from outside.”

His insides boiled. He hadn’t dragged his weary legs here to sip tea leisurely. Jin Chiwoo stared at Gi Woohee, who sat stiffly facing forward.

“You know something, don’t you?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Don’t play dumb. You think Haebeom stuck you here for no reason?”

“If you mean Jung Ryujin, he’s undergoing a physical exam right now.”

“Still? How long has it been since we caught that bastard…”

Jin Chiwoo’s voice trailed off. Gi Woohee silently stared ahead.

“Is what I’m thinking right?”

“…”

“Damn it, guess it is.”

Jin Chiwoo recalled Shin Haebeom glaring at the monitor. That expression, unable to tear his eyes away from Jung Ryujin’s strikingly pretty face. That look.

A chill ran down his spine. He could more than understand why the interrogation was dragging on. Why he hadn’t been called in yet, why the serious and tight-lipped Gi Woohee was posted as gatekeeper—it all made sense.

“How old is Jung Ryujin?”

“If his birth record’s accurate, twenty-one. Young.”

“That’s a relief, at least.”

Jin Chiwoo swallowed the rest, but Gi Woohee caught the implication. With Yu Mihyun at Jeokrim Department watching like a hawk, even Shin Haebeom couldn’t escape criticism for raping a minor. Social backlash was a separate beast from legal punishment.

Jin Chiwoo glared at the firmly shut iron door. He’d grown up with Shin Haebeom since childhood. They were as close as brothers. Yet sometimes, even he couldn’t fathom Shin Haebeom’s intentions. Looking back, it started when they arrested Gwak Hyeonwoo. Shin Haebeom had been interested in Jung Ryujin since then.

Was it curiosity about Ryu Yeonbi?

“How long has Ryu Yeonbi been dead?”

Jin Chiwoo calculated silently. Gi Woohee beat him to it.

“Six years.”

“She’d be thirty if she were alive.”

Jin Chiwoo muttered.

“Quite an age gap with Jung Ryujin.”

“Her parents died early too.”

“Yeah?”

“Usually in cases like that, a younger brother clings blindly to his Noona.”

“How do you know that?”

“…Wouldn’t anyone think so? It’s not a small age gap, and growing up without parents—Ryu Yeonbi was probably like a mother to Jung Ryujin.”

“Maybe…”

Jin Chiwoo let his words fade. He had an older sister with a big age gap too, but he didn’t see her as a mother. Was it just a difference in circumstances?

“Deputy Commander? Are you unwell?”

“No. Just lost in thought for a sec.”

Jin Chiwoo lifted his head and glared at the iron door again. He didn’t want to dwell on what his friend might be doing to Jung Ryujin right now.

Shin Haebeom had said most terrorists hide another lethal weapon in their bodies in case they’re caught.

“I hope you’ll cooperate.”

Waving a latex-gloved hand, Shin Haebeom approached Ryujin.

“The more you cooperate, the faster this ends.”

“N-No, I won’t.”

Ryujin, slumped on the floor, scooted back with his hips. Shin Haebeom matched his pace, stepping closer. He stretched the glove tight against his hand and snapped it.

“Listen. Want your head dunked in there again?”

“No. No! Stop it!”

“You think you have the right to refuse?”

Ryujin hunched his shoulders. His back hit the cold wall.

Shin Haebeom’s polished black combat boot came into view. Tears blurred the sight.

A rough hand grabbed his waistband.

“Let go!”

Ryujin instinctively resisted. A wild punch struck Shin Haebeom’s calf. His face crumpled in anger.

Shin Haebeom’s boot slammed into Ryujin’s solar plexus.

“Guh!”

“Get on your stomach.”

Shin Haebeom straddled Ryujin’s lower back. He yanked the struggling hands above his head and cuffed them. As the cuffs clicked, Ryujin thrashed harder. Shin Haebeom pressed his knee between Ryujin’s hips, rubbing up and down.

“What went in here, huh~? Let’s find out step by step~! A fun and thrilling adventure game~!”

“What the hell, you bastard! Undo this!”

“I’m genuinely curious.”

Shin Haebeom pressed Ryujin’s head down firmly.

“Your back’s nice and slender.”

“Undo it…!”

“What? Can’t hear you. Say it louder?”

“Undo it, you crazy pervert bastard!”

“Got it.”

Shin Haebeom stepped back smoothly. Ryujin gasped roughly, trying to stand. At that moment, Shin Haebeom’s leg sliced through the air, striking Ryujin’s side.

“Agh!”

A full-force kick.

“Ah… ah.”

Shin Haebeom looked down at Ryujin, sprawled on the floor. It sounded like a bone cracked—or maybe not.

He flipped Ryujin onto his stomach. He stripped off the limp body’s pants and underwear. Bruises marked his waist and hips vividly. Those weren’t from him.

The moment he slid his hand between the cheeks, suspicion turned to certainty. Shin Haebeom snickered.

“I think I get what your role was in <White Lion>.”

“Hnngh…”

“You had sex pretty recently, huh.”

Ryujin sobbed. Shin Haebeom’s fingers digging inside were vivid. One, two, three… no mercy, probing deep. Barely healed wounds tore open again. Even seeing blood on his fingers, Shin Haebeom didn’t flinch.

“Here?”

“Ah, ah, aah, ngh…”

“You like getting fingered?”

“It hurts. Hurts! Stop, ah, ahh… ugh!”

“How many guys a day?”

A sly whisper. Shin Haebeom ignored Ryujin’s gagging.

“No pajamas for you, right? No need. Sleeping naked after sex every night. Who’s the best in <White Lion>? Ha Shinsung, I bet?”

“Get… lost…!”

Shin Haebeom chuckled. His fingers were long and thick. Knobby joints scraped and dug like they’d rip out his insides.

“No foreign objects.”

As Ryujin’s tensed body relaxed, he heard Shin Haebeom unbuckling his pants.

“Ah, ah…”

Ryujin shook his head. He couldn’t bear to look back. He could guess what was coming.

A hard mass pressed between his cheeks. Fear raced through him. As he crawled forward frantically, Shin Haebeom’s hands grabbed his hips and yanked him back.

“Ah, no, don’t!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Let go! Let go! Aagh! No!”

“I said okay. Just stay still.”

A fist dug into his side—where Shin Haebeom had kicked earlier.

“Huk!”

His limbs went limp. His jaw trembled, tears soaking his cheeks.

“If you stayed still, it’d be over quick. Why make it hard?”

Shin Haebeom said, smacking Ryujin’s ass with his gloved palm.

“Relax. Loosen up. It won’t hurt if you let go.”

“No. No. Stop. Get away!”

“Don’t make this tough for me, huh?”

Shin Haebeom’s smile didn’t fade. He gripped Ryujin’s hips with both hands, lifting the thrashing lower body. The scarred hole was in full view.

“Pretty color…”

Shin Haebeom licked his lower lip, pressing his tip against the entrance. It glistened with precum.

“Uh, ah…!”

“Relax.”

Ryujin’s thighs quivered. Shin Haebeom’s hot breath hit his back. The relentless tip, the thick shaft, pushed in. Tender flesh tore apart.

“Aagh…!”

Blood trickled down his inner thighs. Shin Haebeom’s giggle echoed.

“I said relax…”

“Pull it out. Out. Please, ugh, please, stop, ah, ah, ah!”

“Stop whining!”

Shin Haebeom raised a hand. He grabbed the trembling cheek and twisted. His red palm print bloomed over the purple bruises.

“Bite mine off, and I’ll let you live with it in your mouth forever.”

Shin Haebeom thrust his hips. Flesh ripped audibly.

“Aaaagh!”

Shin Haebeom’s closed eyes twitched. He reached out, grabbing the red hair swaying before him.

✶⋆.˚

Jin Chiwoo, who’d stepped out saying he’d use the bathroom, returned with a large pizza and cola.

“What’s that?”

“What else? You not eating?”

Loaded with meat, potatoes, tomatoes, and mushrooms, the pizza was perfect for Jin Chiwoo’s taste. The rich cheese was divine.

Half a day had passed since the interrogation began. Shin Haebeom hadn’t taken a single minute’s break. True to being his direct aide, Gi Woohee hadn’t left either. Jin Chiwoo tore off a slice and offered it.

“Here.”

“No thanks.”

“Picky.”

Gi Woohee stared at the closed iron door.

“Isn’t it taking too long?”

Jin Chiwoo chewed his pizza nonchalantly.

“He won’t make the same mistake I did.”

Self-deprecating tone. Gi Woohee agreed. If Shin Haebeom had handled Gwak Hyeonwoo, the outcome would’ve been far different.

But it was pointless. Thinking “if only” about the past was foolish and meaningless. For now, she’d be grateful the deputy commander survived.

Gi Woohee changed her mind and sat closer to Jin Chiwoo’s table.

“Why?”

“Give me a slice.”

“Hungry, huh? Should’ve taken it earlier. It’s cold now.”

“Pizza’s good even cold.”

Gi Woohee bit into it. The claim held true. Forgotten hunger hit, and they demolished the pizza in no time.

“What about the car?”

“Ugh, don’t ask.”

Scrapyard bound, then. Gi Woohee nodded inwardly. She’d expected as much.

Jin Chiwoo wiped his fingers with a tissue.

“Guess I’ll owe Haebeom for a while.”

“Aren’t you on suspension?”

“They’re resending the notice. Both me and Haebeom—punishments on hold.”

“Oh…”

“What? Disappointed? Happy you won’t see my face for a few days?”

“No way.”

It felt like a cheap price for a life, and now even that wasn’t happening. Poor Jung Ryujin.

Gi Woohee returned to the monitor.

“What was he thinking, Jung Ryujin?”

“Why bother imagining? He was just obsessed with killing me.”

He didn’t seem that irrational. Ha Shinsung kept him close, and being in the intelligence team meant he had some brains.

Gi Woohee glanced at Jin Chiwoo sipping cola.

“Could it be a shift within the organization?”

“What shift?”

“Any group that grows big develops factions. Ha Sungrok’s old. It wouldn’t be surprising if there’s a succession struggle.”

Jin Chiwoo looked puzzled.

“Ha Shinsung’s his only son. No one’s better suited to be the next boss. That’s why he’s worked so hard on his image.”

“He’s definitely well-known, but…”

Gi Woohee trailed off.

“That’s just fame. He doesn’t have standout achievements, does he?”

“Doesn’t he?”

Jin Chiwoo tilted his head.

“So what, you’ve got your eye on some other officer?”

“Not anyone specific. Five teams in one organization—anyone would want their leader at the top.”

“No clue.”

Jin Chiwoo sank into the sofa, arms crossed, eyes closed.

“Ask Haebeom later. He’ll gut Jung Ryujin to find out.”

Shin Haebeom twisted the hand gripping the red hair back. Painful groans dripped from Ryujin’s lips. It wasn’t his first blowjob—closing his eyes and sucking would end it fast—but trembling and just holding it frustrated Shin Haebeom.

“Don’t want to make it easy?”

Was this ignorance or sheer stubbornness? Shin Haebeom sighed heavily.

“Think holding out will get you mercy?”

“Ugh… uh.”

“Don’t count on it.”

He thrust deep into Ryujin’s throat. Ryujin squeezed his eyes shut. Shin Haebeom stroked the tear-soaked cheek.

The small face, swollen and smeared with fluids, wasn’t pretty even as a lie. Yet it stirred him. His heart.

Shin Haebeom eyed the torture tools on the wall. This guy tried to assassinate the Disciplinary Task Force deputy commander—chopping off a limb or two seemed fair.

He imagined pinning the thrashing Ryujin down. Cut off an arm, no more punches. A leg, no running. Either way, he’d scream in pain—delightful to eyes and ears just thinking about it.

“Mmm…”

Shin Haebeom shuddered, releasing into Ryujin’s mouth. He gripped the hair tight to keep him from pulling back.

“Urghh!”

Shin Haebeom watched Ryujin gulp down his semen, gasping. It was a pity some spilled past his lips. So sloppy…

The moment he let go, Ryujin collapsed, vomiting on the floor.

“Ugh! Hic!”

Shin Haebeom’s face hardened. He raised his foot.

“Aagh!”

The boot crushed Ryujin’s head.

“You… damn… bastard… what are you doing!”

“Lick it.”

“What?”

“Lick it up! All of it! Right now!”

Ryujin gritted his teeth.

“You do it.”

“What?”

“You lick up what you spilled, you bastard!”

Stars exploded before his eyes. Ryujin rolled to the opposite wall. Hitting it, his breath caught, unable to scream.

“You’re asking for it.”

Shin Haebeom tapped the floor with his boot.

“My type.”

“Damn bastard… go die.”

His vision blurred, head spinning. Ryujin struggled to get up. But Shin Haebeom approached first. Now smoking, he stomped Ryujin’s head again.

“Just kidding about the type thing. Jung Ryujin, you’re my ideal.”

“Bullshit!”

“You’re pretty when you cry, sexy when you curse. You’ll be cute spreading your legs yourself, huh? Can’t wait.”

Ryujin glared through slitted eyes.

“I’ll kill you. I’ll… kill you. I’ll murder you. Kill you! You!”

“What? Kill me in bed? Wow, you’re bold too?”

“Aagh! Damn bastard! Asshole! Rapist! Die!”

“Guess I’ll mark you as mine.”

Shin Haebeom kicked Ryujin’s shoulder. He sat on the limp body.

“Hnngh…!”

Ryujin groaned. Shin Haebeom’s solid thighs squeezed his chest. His ribs felt like they’d snap.

Semen-stained lips quivered.

“Get off… bastard, get away from me…!”

“Where should I put it?”

Shin Haebeom brushed back Ryujin’s wet bangs.

“Your forehead’s like a third eye—hilarious.”

“Don’t, don’t, you crazy bastard!”

“No good? Somewhere more visible?”

“You fuck…! I said don’t!”

Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s chin.

“Why so scared? A scar or two on a guy’s face is a badge.”

“Fuck, fuck! Move!”

“I’ve seen lots of guys hurt on the job—turns out you don’t need both eyes.”

Ryujin squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming.

“Stay still, and it’s over quick.”

Shin Haebeom brought the cigarette to Ryujin’s temple.

A tearing scream, the smell of burning protein. Shin Haebeom tossed the dead butt aside and hugged the sobbing Ryujin tightly. He ditched the gloves, sliding bare hands between his cheeks. He prodded the bloody, semen-slick hole.

Ryujin screamed hysterically.

“Stop, stop… please stop.”

“Wet enough to slide right in.”

“Enough… it’s enough. No more…”

Shin Haebeom licked Ryujin’s neck, murmuring.

“I really like you.”

Burning Ryujin’s temple had already left him painfully hard. He pressed his throbbing length against the gaping entrance. Rubbing the red flesh lightly, he slid the tip in.

“Ah… agh.”

Ryujin’s head snapped back.

“I’m Shin Haebeom. Nice to meet you, Jung Ryujin.”

“Hnngh… ugh, hic…!”

“Me, my name, remember it. Shin Haebeom. Shin Haebeom. What… we’re doing now, remember it. Don’t forget.”

Ryujin wanted to block his ears.

A sweat drop dangled from Shin Haebeom’s chin, then fell. It seeped between Ryujin’s lips.

“Aagh.”

His body folded completely. Ryujin couldn’t move a finger. A red-hot iron rod churned his guts. Below his waist, he felt nothing.

Ryujin turned his head, sobbing. He hated himself for instinctively recalling Ha Shinsung’s touch.

“Look here. At me.”

Shin Haebeom’s hand gripped Ryujin’s chin. Each thrust rocked Ryujin’s limp body. Shin Haebeom saw his face in those cloudy pupils. A vile thug.

He liked his method. Breaking someone’s spirit was like this.

“Hic! Ah! Ah! Hnngh, ugh!”

No chance to breathe, just relentless pounding. The tight walls clung to him.

Spread legs shot toward the ceiling. Shin Haebeom thrust deep and came. Ryujin’s thighs shook violently.

“So good… really.”

Shin Haebeom adjusted his grip behind Ryujin’s knees, lifting his lower body higher. Ryujin trembled like an aspen.

Shin Haebeom stared straight at Ryujin’s pale face.

“Chiwoo’s alive.”

He slammed in hard, a wet squelch. Blood-mixed semen splattered the interrogation room floor.

Shin Haebeom laughed.

“You’re totally screwed.”