minsung/skz one shots

played to lose.

Like the tongue I'm biting, and the thoughts I'm hiding, gotta stay silent. The demons on the side of my bed are telling me that, nothing to lose by rolling the dice tonight.

' ֶָ֢

Jisung had seen this guy before, an attractive guy who effortlessly drew attention, and Jisung wasn't immune to his charm. The sort of attractiveness that made it hard for him to look away. And the guy knew it, catching Jisung's gaze and holding it, as if daring him to keep staring. Maybe that's why he kept pushing his luck, thinking that if he flirted enough, if he played the part, Jisung wouldn't hurt him. He seemed to believe that his good looks and easy charm could get him out of anything, no matter what was coming for him. But Jisung could see through it, he knew the desperation hiding behind that cocky grin whenever they met at the gambling tables. The guy was playing a dangerous game, and Jisung wasn't sure how much longer he could keep bluffing before it all came crashing down. There was a confidence in the way he moved, the way he smirked whenever their eyes met. Not today though, not in a situation as desperate as this one. He was crumpled on the floor, his face a swollen, bruised mess of cuts. Blood dripped from his split lip, and every breath seemed to rattle through his broken ribs. The boss stood over him, calm and collected, with the same icy look in his eyes that Jisung had seen a hundred times before. There was no sympathy, no hesitation, just a chilling detachment. "You get one last chance to get my money", the boss said, his voice low but clear. It was the kind of tone that sent shivers down your spine, the kind that promised violence without needing to shout. "One week. If you don't have my money by then, you'll end up like the others; in the river, where no one will ever find you. Do you hear me?" The pretty boy on the ground, with his once-sharp features now masked by pain, tried to muster him. Pain and fear reflected in his eyes. He was clearly struggling, barely able to move without wincing, his hand gripping his side where he had likely cracked a rib, or several. A cough escaped his throat, bringing up more blood. Jisung noticed the way his eyes flicked up, a flash of that reckless bravado still lingering, but it was quickly swallowed down. The pretty guy in front of him knew better than to push his luck any further.

Jisung recognized the type all too well. The ones who lived for the thrill, the constant gamble with their lives. They were addicted to the adrenaline, always chasing that next high, even when it led them straight to the edge of the cliff. It was a dangerous way to live, one that ended more often in ruin than in any sort of victory. And Jisung knew it personally. He'd been caught in the same web, back when he was at Quantico, training to be an agent. The pressure had been immense, the need to prove himself overwhelming, and the lure of the gambling tables had been a release, an escape from the suffocating expectations. It had started small, just a few games, a bit of fun, but it quickly spiraled out of control. The stakes grew higher, the debts deeper, until he was risking everything, unable to walk away even when he knew the danger. Watching the pretty one now, Jisung could almost see a reflection of himself; a path he had narrowly avoided, but one that still haunted him. The memory of those dark nights at the casino, the thrill and the terror intertwined, came rushing back with vivid clarity. It had taken everything he had to claw his way out of that pit, and seeing this guy on the floor, broken and bleeding, reminded him just how close he had come to a similar fate. His boss had laid out two paths before him, both leading to drastically different fates. The first was simple but nearly impossible; repay the mountain of debts he had accumulated and earn back his freedom. The second was as final as it was terrifying; failing to pay and meeting a violent end, his body disposed of like countless others who had failed to meet his demands. But once his boss found out he was a trainee at Quantico, he offered him a deal; one that twisted the knot of fear in his gut even tighter. He could have his debts erased completely, but at a price that would bind him to the shadows forever. Jisung was given the chance to become a personal hitman, trained to kill with precision and ruthlessness, a weapon with a pulse, trained to eliminate any threat or obstacle with lethal efficiency. The training was brutal, designed to strip him of his conscience and forge him into a cold, calculated killer. He learned to handle weapons with deadly accuracy, hands became steady tools of destruction, whether he was wielding a knife, a gun, or his bare fists. He knew how to stalk his targets without being seen, to kill without a second thought and disappear without a trace. His life became a series of dark missions, each more dangerous than the last. There was no going back; the man he had once been was gone, buried beneath the weight of the lives he had taken. He knew that if he hadn't agreed to this twisted deal, his fate would have been sealed long ago, his body rotting in some forgotten grave, just another nameless victim in a world where money and power ruled.