The drive to "S" Shopping Mall was smooth, the hum of the car engine steady and comforting, almost lulling. Outside, the city slipped by in a blur of glass towers, neon signs, and bustling pedestrians, but inside the vehicle, everything was quiet. Shan sat in the backseat of Kang's sleek, black luxury car, the soft leather cool beneath him. Jain lay nestled in his lap, the child's small head tucked into the crook of Shan's arm, asleep, breathing in slow, even rhythms. The gentle weight of his son steadied Shan, even as an undercurrent of tension threaded through him.
Beside him, Davey filled the silence easily, talking animatedly about trivial things—funny stories from the estate, small details of his week, and plans for what they might buy once they reached the mall. His voice was a warm, constant stream, meant to keep spirits light. Shan nodded occasionally, smiling faintly, grateful for Davey's presence, though his own mind was half elsewhere.
Through the tinted window, Shan caught sight of another car trailing them, almost identical in model but darker, heavier. Inside it were four of Kang's most trusted bodyguards, armed and alert, their eyes sweeping the streets even during this uneventful ride. It was routine now, this shield of protection, and yet as they rolled into the sprawling mall parking lot, Shan felt a familiar unease coil in his chest. Two cars, an entourage of trained men—it all felt excessive. But he understood. It was for Jain. Every precaution was a reminder of the danger that still loomed unseen.
The car eased to a stop, and Shan carefully shifted Jain into his arms, carrying him as they stepped out into the bright afternoon. The massive shopping complex loomed ahead, glass walls glinting in the sun, banners fluttering at the entrance announcing new seasonal sales. Shoppers streamed in and out of the revolving doors, arms heavy with bags, laughter spilling freely. It all looked so ordinary, so normal.
But their arrival was anything but ordinary.
Walking through the mall, Shan quickly noticed the stares. Not at him or Davey, dressed casually in simple clothes, blending easily into the crowd. No—the attention was on the phalanx of men in black suits, moving in formation around them, faces hard, eyes scanning constantly. The presence of bodyguards drew whispers, turning heads, sparking speculation. Some people edged out of their way, curiosity written across their faces, while others boldly pointed or murmured behind their hands.
Davey chuckled softly, leaning close enough to nudge Shan with his elbow. "Feeling like royalty, huh?"
Shan managed a thin, weak smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. If only it felt like royalty. To him, it felt like a cage with invisible bars, a constant spotlight that made him uneasy. The eyes of strangers burned against his skin, prickling at his nerves. Still, he reminded himself: this was for Jain. Always for Jain. He adjusted the child in his arms, shielding him slightly as they moved deeper into the mall.
They drifted from shop to shop, Davey keeping the mood light, teasing Shan over ridiculous luxury items, pointing out silly designs, and laughing when Shan actually cracked small smiles. In the children's section of a high-end department store, they lingered longer, drawn into the aisles filled with miniature clothes almost too perfect to be real. Tiny shoes that cost as much as grown men's, shirts stitched from fabrics softer than silk, and rows of jackets designed as if for little royalty. Shan and Davey stood together, caught between oohs and aching disbelief.
Jain stirred faintly against Shan's chest as he debated between two miniature leather jackets—each one absurdly adorable, each one equally unnecessary but impossible to ignore. His brows furrowed, torn between the choices, when suddenly the sharp vibration of his phone broke through his concentration.
He glanced down. Kang.
Shan shifted Jain slightly, holding the child more securely as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Jin-ho?"
"Shan, are you at the mall already?" Kang's voice carried through, distant and slightly muffled, as though there was interference on the line.
"Yes, we just got to the kids' section," Shan replied, distractedly, eyes still flicking between the jackets. Jain stirred again, his small fingers curling into Shan's shirt, and Shan turned slightly away from Davey, lowering his voice to keep the call private.
And then—
A shrill, piercing alarm shattered the air.
The cheerful background music of the mall cut off mid-note, replaced by the blaring, merciless screech of the fire alarm. The sound ricocheted off walls, deafening and sharp, making Shan flinch. Before he could react, the lights above flickered once, twice, then went out.
Darkness.
The mall plunged into a near total blackout, save for the dim red glow of emergency lights that flickered uncertainly to life. Shadows stretched long and distorted, painting the walls with jagged streaks. For a heartbeat, silence hung, as if the whole building inhaled at once—then came the screams.
Chaos erupted.
People shouted, panicked, surged in all directions. The neat lines of shoppers dissolved into frantic, crashing waves as bodies pushed, shoved, desperate to escape the unseen danger. Bags were dropped, belongings forgotten, shoes slapped against marble floors as the crowd became one living, surging tide of fear.
"Hello? Shan, what's happening?" Kang's voice, suddenly clearer, broke through the noise in Shan's ear. Urgency sharpened his tone now. "What's that noise?"
But Shan barely heard him. His heart pounded in his chest, the alarm blaring through his skull. All around him, the bodyguards struggled to hold position, but the flood of panicked people overwhelmed even them.
"Davey!" Shan shouted, clutching Jain tightly, struggling against the crush of bodies. He twisted, trying to keep his footing as the crowd pressed from all sides. "Davey! Stay close!"
Someone rammed into his shoulder, jarring him hard. He stumbled, his grip on Jain faltering for a terrifying second. He fought for balance, teeth clenched, lungs burning. And in that single, awful moment—he lost him.
Jain was gone.
The weight in his arms vanished, leaving only emptiness and horror.
Shan froze, every vein in his body turning to ice. His heart lurched into his throat. He spun wildly, searching, the crowd a blur of distorted faces under the stuttering lights. "Jain!" His scream tore through the chaos, but it was swallowed instantly by the storm of other voices. "Jain!"
No Davey. No bodyguards. No child. Nothing.
Panic surged through him like fire, hot and merciless. Adrenaline flooded his limbs, forcing him forward. He shoved through the surging masses, his voice breaking as he called Jain's name again and again. The crowd pushed back, crushing, but Shan fought, eyes darting desperately, refusing to give in to the terror clawing at him.
And then—he saw him.
Not Jain. Not Davey. A man.
A figure moving against the current, striding with purpose while everyone else fled. He didn't run. He didn't stumble. He moved like he knew exactly where he was going, a large duffel bag slung over one shoulder, heavy and deliberate. His demeanor was wrong, glaringly wrong, in the chaos. Instinct, sharp and primal, screamed in Shan's gut. That man was no ordinary shopper. That man was dangerous.
Shan's breath hitched, his grief twisting into fury, his fear into steel. He changed direction, tearing through the crowd with single-minded focus, every step driven by the desperate need to find Jain. He ran, his pulse hammering in his ears, eyes locked on the duffel bag.
Kang, still on the line, heard everything—the wail of alarms, the swell of terrified voices, the sharp distortion of static. "Shan? Hello? Shan, what's going on? Where is all that noise coming from?" His voice climbed in urgency, on the edge of panic.
Then came a sudden, raw sound that cut through: Shan's voice, strained, commanding, not the soft, hesitant Shan he knew, but something different, fierce, sharp like a blade.
"You stand up! You stand up, stand there! Don't move a single step!"
Kang froze, his breath catching in his chest. That voice—it wasn't Shan's usual tone. It was harder, colder, something hidden deep within him finally breaking loose.
And then—silence.
The call cut dead. The line went blank, leaving only the hiss of static in Kang's ear.
"Ron!" Kang barked, his palm slamming the desk as he shoved the phone away. His voice carried the weight of command, sharp enough to cut through the silence of the room. "Call Davey! Find out which mall they are in!"
Without pausing, Kang snatched up his other phone, fingers moving with a speed that betrayed his mounting rage. He dialed the bodyguard's number with such force it was as if the pressure alone could drag the truth out faster.
On the third ring, a ragged voice answered, trembling and weak. "M-Master… Master, we're in great danger…" The man's breath came in gasps, the words breaking apart between wheezes. "I think… Little Master… attacked today…"
Kang's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles blanching. His voice dropped into a deadly calm, the fury beneath controlled but simmering. "What? What happened? Where are you? Where's jain? Where's Shan?" Every word was a demand, sharp and precise, as if sheer force could keep them safe.
The bodyguard coughed, his voice cracked with pain. "Master… attacked… fire alarm… six… seven people… suddenly… attacked us… very skilled… well trained…"
The words detonated in Kang's chest. His eyes narrowed into slits, fury seething into something colder, more dangerous. "Which section?" he hissed, his voice low, venomous, each syllable measured like the cocking of a gun. "Which shop are you in?"
"K… kid section…" the bodyguard choked, his last breath of duty, before the line fell into an empty, chilling silence.
Kang's fist came down hard against the table. He didn't waste a second. "Ron! Let ready! Now! We're going to S Mall, kid section—NOW!" His voice was thunder, and his men moved instantly, as if lightning had struck.
Ron, his ever-loyal right hand, already had his phone to his ear, issuing orders in a clipped, rapid-fire tone. His grim face betrayed nothing, but his movements were exact, efficient, a man who knew the severity of what his master had just unleashed.
Within seconds, three black SUVs roared to life outside the estate, engines growling like beasts ready to hunt. Kang strode forward, his frame radiating lethal intent, his bodyguards snapping into formation at his sides, their gazes hard and unwavering.
Sliding into the back of the lead car, Kang leaned forward, voice sharp. "Did you get through to Davey?"
Ron nodded tightly, though his jaw was set like stone. "Yes, Master. But… jain and Mr. Shan… they're gone. Lost in the chaos. The mall is a madhouse."
Kang's chest rose and fell with controlled fury. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned bone white. Jain. Shan. Lost. Taken. His gut screamed at him—this was no coincidence. This was orchestrated. A trap. A theft.
His voice became a growl, low and guttural. "Faster. Drive faster."
The SUVs surged forward, tires screeching, cutting through the city's streets with terrifying precision, sirens silent, a convoy of predators headed straight for the S Mall—the epicenter of a nightmare.
---
Inside the mall, the shrill clang of the fire alarm still pounded in Shan's ears, each note an accusation, a false cry that masked something darker. His heart hammered, his instincts screaming. The moment his eyes had caught sight of the man—slipping through the chaos, a bulky duffel bag swinging at his side—he knew.
This wasn't panic. This was abduction.
Clutching jain's absence in his chest like a wound, Shan shouted, his voice cutting through the echoing klaxon. "Stop!"
The man didn't flinch. He moved faster, weaving through the scattering crowd, eyes fixed on the exit.
"Stop, I said!" Shan's footsteps thundered against the polished floor, chasing the man's retreat. Desperation lent his voice an edge sharper than steel.
But the man ignored him. The crowd thinned, the chaos funneled into escape routes, and Shan maneuvered, calculating. He cornered him—pushing him into a dead-end corridor, the kind where service doors stood locked and boxes blocked escape.
Shan's breath came in ragged bursts, adrenaline searing through him. Without hesitation, he lunged. A raw roar ripped from his throat as he tackled the man into the wall, their bodies crashing together in a violent tangle.
The duffel bag slammed hard against Shan's ribs. He wrestled, his fingers clawing for the zipper, tearing it open—
And then he froze.
Jain.
His son lay crumpled inside, pale, unconscious, a tiny fragile form nestled among discarded clothes. For a heartbeat, the world fell silent. A wave of cold terror surged through Shan, colliding with something deeper, stronger—an explosion of primal protectiveness.
He scooped the boy into his arms, clutching him against his chest, his heart threatening to shatter from both fear and relief. A certainty rang through his bones, undeniable. This was his child. His boy. His blood. His purpose.
"Never again," Shan whispered to himself, face buried in jain's soft hair. "I'll never let you go."
But the moment shattered.
The man lunged forward, steel glinting in the dim corridor light. A knife. Long. Wicked. Hungry for blood.
Shan twisted, turning his body into a shield, pressing jain's small frame tightly against his chest. His back bore the first strike, white-hot fire ripping through his flesh.
"Give the child back," the man hissed, his voice calm, cold, almost polite. His eyes gleamed with fanatic devotion. "Give him back, or you die today."
Shan didn't answer. He couldn't. His lips sealed in silent defiance, his arms tightening around jain.
The knife plunged again. And again. Each strike tore him open, pain blazing through his chest, his stomach, his lungs. His knees trembled, his body breaking, but still—he held on.
Blood poured down his shirt, soaking jain's blanket. His legs gave way, dragging him slowly to the ground, but even on his knees, Shan remained a wall of flesh, a human barrier between his son and the blade.
The man raised the knife high for a final strike—when his phone rang.
He froze, annoyed, then pressed it to his ear. "Yes, Master Kang," he said instantly, his voice shifting into a disgusting, sycophantic tone. "Yes… the work is almost done. I'm bringing the Little Master… Shan interfered. I've half-killed him. If you'd like, I can finish him completely…"
The words echoed in Shan's fading consciousness. Master Kang.
The pieces slammed together. The fire alarm. The ambush. The abduction. Kang—behind it all.
Shan's vision blurred, his blood pooling beneath him. The voice on the phone faded, replaced by a rushing roar in his ears—until suddenly, footsteps.
A shout. A figure charging forward.
Davey.
Like a storm, Davey crashed into the corridor, fury etched into every line of his face. A brutal thud echoed as he struck the man down, the knife clattering to the floor. The attacker collapsed, motionless.
Davey dropped beside Shan instantly, his hands trembling as he shook him. "Shan! Shan, wake up! What happened?" His voice cracked with desperation.
Shan gasped, blood bubbling in his throat. He clutched jain tighter before pushing the boy weakly into Davey's arms. His voice rasped, shredded by agony. "Davey… bro… save jain… please… save him…"
A violent cough wracked his body, crimson staining his lips. "Maybe… maybe I trusted… the wrong person…" His eyes clouded, words faltering, but the weight of his revelation hung heavy.
Davey's face crumpled, torn between fury and terror. "No. Shan, hold on. Don't you dare leave me! We're getting out of here!" His words came fast, frantic, a lifeline he tried to throw across the widening gap.
He ripped a strip of his own shirt, fumbling to tie Shan's wounds, his hands slick with blood. His movements were desperate, but Shan was fading, slipping away.
Then—boots thundered. Voices barked orders. And through the haze of pain, Shan heard it.
Kang's voice. Cold. Commanding. Deadly.
"Clear the area! Secure the perimeter! Find Shan and the boy!"
Moments later, Kang himself appeared. He strode into the corridor, Ron and his men at his heels. His eyes widened as they fell on the sight before him: Shan, bloodied and broken, Davey kneeling at his side, cradling the child.
Kang dropped to his knees, face twisted into a mask of authority and concern. His voice rang out, commanding yet tender.
"Shan! Are you alright? Don't faint, Shan! We'll get you to a hospital, right now!"