The sky was bruised purple when Ryu-jin returned.
Not in a car, not in a convoy.
Alone.
Bleeding.
So-yeon's breath caught in her throat the moment she saw him stumble through the front gates, one hand pressed to his side, his white shirt soaked red. He didn't call out. Didn't make a sound. He just looked up at the mansion with eyes that searched for only one thing.
Her.
She ran to him barefoot.
When she reached him, he collapsed into her arms.
"Ryu-jin!" Her voice cracked. "Someone help me!"
The guards rushed in too late — but she was already cradling his face, her hands trembling. "What happened to you?"
"Seoul… betrayal…" he rasped.
"Don't speak. Don't—just hold on, okay?"
She hadn't touched blood like this before — not like this. Not warm, not soaking her palms, not belonging to someone whose heart she had started to care for.
And it terrified her.
Not the blood.
But how much she feared losing him.
---
For the next eight hours, she didn't sleep. She didn't blink. She didn't breathe unless he did.
She cleaned the wound herself — refusing to let the mansion's doctors touch him. Her hands were precise, her voice calm, but her heart was in chaos.
He had taken a knife for someone.
No — for her.
The news came from his second-in-command while she stitched him up: a deal in Seoul had gone wrong. Someone had sent an assassin to the hotel suite.
Ryu-jin had killed the man — but not before being stabbed under the ribs.
And yet he returned home.
To her.
As the night darkened, she sat beside his bed, fingers laced with his, head resting lightly against the mattress.
"You idiot," she whispered. "You could've died."
He didn't answer. His sleep was restless, lips twitching with pain.
She tightened her grip. "I'm still mad at you."
A pause.
"...But I need you to wake up."
He woke just past dawn.
So-yeon had fallen asleep in the chair beside his bed, still in her blood-smeared clothes, head slumped forward, lips parted slightly with exhaustion. The light from the window kissed her cheeks, softening the shadows under her eyes.
Ryu-jin's body throbbed. Pain pulsed from his stitched side. But more than that — there was an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the wound.
He turned his head, and there she was.
Sleeping beside him like she'd never leave.
Something fragile flickered in his gaze.
For the first time in a long, brutal life, he felt something he couldn't name. It wasn't possession. It wasn't control.
It was the terrifying feeling of being seen.
Wanted.
Not as a boss.
Not as a tyrant.
But as a man who could bleed.
"…So-yeon," he rasped, his voice gravel and smoke.
She stirred instantly.
Their eyes met — and her expression broke into something raw and furious.
"You're awake," she whispered, the tremble in her voice betraying everything she'd tried to hide. "You scared me."
"I told you…" he said, each word costing breath, "I always come back."
She slapped his arm — gently, but enough to make him wince.
"Don't joke."
"I'm not."
She looked like she wanted to cry. But she didn't. She just leaned in, brushing a strand of his dark hair back, and stared down at him like she was memorizing his face.
"I should hate you," she murmured.
"I know."
"But I don't."
He let that hang between them.
Then, hoarsely: "That's dangerous."
"So is loving a man like you."
His jaw clenched.
Her confession didn't sound like a plea. It sounded like a fact. A surrender she had fought against for days — weeks — and finally couldn't deny.
And still, she stood by his side.
Still, she chose him.
"Do you regret it?" he asked.
Her fingers brushed over his hand, careful, delicate. "I regret not hating you enough."
He stared at her, something wild and silent burning in his eyes. "Then don't love me."
But she only smiled — sad and defiant.
"It's too late for that."
By the next evening, the compound had quieted, but the tension in the air hadn't. Guards patrolled with more urgency. Orders were whispered like secrets. The aftermath of the ambush had left everyone rattled — except Kang Ryu-jin, who lay still recovering, and So-yeon, who refused to leave his side.
So-yeon paced his room now, arms crossed, lost in thought.
"You've barely eaten," Ryu-jin said.
"You almost died," she snapped, her voice sharper than she meant. "Forgive me if I've lost my appetite."
He said nothing. He watched her — the tight way she moved, the war playing behind her eyes.
"Tell me everything," she said at last, turning to him. "Who were those men? Why were they after you?"
Ryu-jin's jaw tightened. "Rivals. Ghosts from the past. One of them used to work for my brother."
So-yeon's brow furrowed. "Your brother?"
He hesitated. "I never told you how he died."
"No. You didn't."
"He trusted someone he shouldn't have. Someone who sold him out. I was the one who found his body." His voice dropped lower. "I was twenty-one."
She stepped closer. "That's the age I am now."
Ryu-jin looked at her then — really looked. The realization landed between them like a ghost: she was still so young. Still capable of walking away.
"I took his place," he said. "Cleaned up the blood. Silenced the traitors. Built something he'd never finished."
"You became a tyrant."
"Yes." A pause. "Because softness gets people killed."
Her voice lowered. "And yet you let me in."
That truth lingered.
She knelt beside the bed, her hand finding his.
"I want to understand you, Ryu-jin. Even if it terrifies me."
"Don't try too hard," he said, voice rough. "I'm not someone who can be saved."
"I'm not trying to save you," she whispered. "I just don't want to lose you."
He swallowed hard.
And then — for the first time — he lifted her hand and kissed it.
Not as an order. Not as a claim.
But as a man barely holding himself together.
The silence that settled between them after Ryu-jin's gesture wasn't empty — it was full of emotion, of everything they didn't yet know how to say. Ahn So-yeon stayed by his side for the rest of the night, neither one willing to pull away.
But peace was a fleeting illusion.
The next morning, an urgent knock rattled the bedroom door.
"What is it?" So-yeon asked, standing protectively as Ryu-jin remained lying down.
Jung Hyuk, Ryu-jin's most trusted lieutenant, entered. His usual cold expression was etched with unease.
"We've found the traitor," he said flatly.
So-yeon's heart clenched. Ryu-jin's expression darkened.
"Who?" he asked.
Jung Hyuk glanced briefly at So-yeon, then spoke.
"Choi Joon. The one who delivered the files last week. He was in contact with the rival gang behind the ambush."
"I want him brought here," Ryu-jin said. His voice was ice.
Jung Hyuk bowed and left.
So-yeon turned toward Ryu-jin. "Are you going to kill him?"
He met her eyes. "If I don't, the others will think I've gone soft. That's how more people end up dead."
She stepped closer. "And if you do… you're one step deeper into a life that's killing you from the inside."
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Finally, he stood — slower than usual, still healing, but tall and commanding. "Then help me find another way."
The plea in his voice was buried, but it was there.
So-yeon looked up at him, fire in her chest. "Then let's end this cycle. Let's expose him without blood."
They came up with a plan — one that involved truth, not death.
When Choi Joon was dragged into the room, So-yeon stood beside Ryu-jin, calm and unmoving. Instead of a bullet, the traitor was shown the recordings of his betrayal — caught red-handed.
Ryu-jin leaned forward. "You betrayed me. And yet you still have a choice."
Choi Joon sobbed, falling to his knees. "Spare me, and I'll testify. I'll expose the others."
It was So-yeon who stepped forward. "If you lie, you won't get another chance."
The man nodded desperately.
Ryu-jin gave the signal. Jung Hyuk took the traitor away.
As the door closed, Ryu-jin sat back heavily. His body ached, but it was the emotional weight that truly showed.
So-yeon stepped to his side. "You didn't kill him."
"No," he said quietly. "But I might have… if you weren't here."
She reached for his hand. He didn't resist.
"I'm here," she said.
"And I'm afraid of what I'll become… if you leave."
Her breath caught. "Then don't give me a reason to."
He pulled her closer, forehead resting against hers. No violence. No power games. Just closeness.
Outside, the city buzzed — dangerous and alive.
But inside that room, for the first time, something sacred bloomed between them.
Not ruin.
But hope.
End Of Chapter 5.